ã€ŠLiars Calledã€‹


 Book 1, Rule 1

    Book 1, Rule 1

    Establish Boundaries & Do Your Homework

    Statement: I feel that much of this won¡¯t make sense without some shared baseline. This means my first order of business is to explain who I am and what has happened. Logically, most information about my past is pointless; save for that which clearly affect prime motivations. I will share a brief bit of my situation prior to ¡®The Event¡¯ as it impacts all results after the fact.

    Would the events listed herein have occurred without the car accident? Would knowing make a difference in my choices? Would avoiding an accident in the first place, but being part of ¡®The Event¡¯, result in a better outcome? This sounds possible but I¡¯ve survived where others, undamaged, have not.

    Three months ago I¡¯d been in a car accident. The short version of the results is as follows; all passengers in the car with me walked away with minor bumps and bruises. I lost part of my foot, broke seven bones, and tore muscles in my arm and hip. This is due to the other party failing to slow down and turning into me. In exchange, I gained a wheelchair, crutches for easier days, and money that only existed in theory. Insurance had not paid out.

    On this day, I needed to limp into my physical therapy appointment. As I wished not to bother my brother, I called a county service then arranged a door-to-door bus with wheelchair access. Taking the bus allowed me a small measure of independence.

    At two in the afternoon, I waited on the corner. The bus was late. At two twenty it arrived and lowered a ramp for me roll up. I wheeled on. This may seem trivial but I took a small amount of pride in being able to move the wheelchair without assistance.

    A man with closely cropped hair smiled at me. He wore faded clothes, a dark cap, and two pins displaying the golden with red mixture representing the Forty-Niners. Blond hair poked out from under the cap.

    ¡°Welcome aboard,¡± the driver said. ¡°I¡¯m Leon. I¡¯ll be driving you today.¡±

    I nodded to the driver, turned, and briefly studied my companions. Two older ladies sat in the best seats.

    ¡°Yeah, just watch the corners,¡± said the one on the right. The giant of a woman coughed wetly and swallowed. This disgusted me.

    The more heavyset one had loosely hanging skin and smelled like cigars. Her thinner partner lay back in the seat and snored. Neither one moved to make room for my wheelchair. I checked the bus driver for assistance. He shrugged.

    ¡°What can you do? There¡¯s enough room for the chair over here, I¡¯ll help you bolt it in,¡± Leon said. He unbuckled himself, got out of the driver¡¯s side and walked around.

    The physical therapist advised me that a near full recovery might be possible. Right now I could barely hop from one seat to another. Switching spots while disabled was one of the first tasks they taught me during rehabilitation. Technically wheelchairs were meant to be support objects since my legs were partially functional.

    Post Note: I used to be able to run. I played disc toss at college between classes. Post accident, I was told my hip would always hurt and running will be agony. Furthermore they also said at some point I may need to replace the hip.

    Leon was kind enough. I fumbled around with buckles and loops to help anchor the wheelchair into place. Leon checked the ends twice. His hat slipped off revealing a balding head.

    ¡°Make sure he double checks,¡± the woman with phlegm in her throat said. ¡°He¡¯s new. They don¡¯t train them right.¡±

    Her companion continued to snore.

    ¡°You¡¯re as secure as I can get,¡± Leon commented while shaking his head. He scanned the front seats of our small bus, exited the vehicle through the still extended ramp, and got back in. We left the neighborhood and hit every pothole between my house and the main street.

    The bus stopped suddenly. My head slammed into a rack of bus schedules. I groaned.

    ¡°Ought to sue the county. These drivers are crap,¡± the large woman muttered. The driver grunted in response. Our old companion snored.

    ¡°Sorry, everyone, the light suddenly changed,¡± Leon said.

    ¡°Sure, blame the light. Or maybe it¡¯s because you¡¯re hung over.¡± The bus resumed motion as she coughed wetly and wiped her face. The driver either didn¡¯t hear her, or chose not to rise to an obvious insult.

    Our bus ride went on for an hour. I drifted in and out due to medication. It made me sleepy and the doctors gave me less with each refill. I stretched the pills thin in case. The phlegm coughing woman got off at a supermarket, parting with a ¡°Shitty driver¡± comment. Our snoring companion left at a government building downtown. I arrived ten minutes late for my physical therapy appointment.

    ¡°Mister Underwood, we¡¯re here,¡± Leon said.

    I nodded and worked on loosening the straps holding me in. Some were too difficult to get and required the driver¡¯s help. Once free, I wheeled off but gave the driver no parting message. The man¡¯s tardiness bothered me.

    Leon was older than I but not beyond thirty. He wore a wedding ring and had bags under his eyes. I suspected he worked himself silly but also had to stay up nights. It was not likely to be due to drinking.

    Thinking about the driver kept me safe while wheeling into the building. I signed a check-in sheet and got myself ready for a few rounds of torture. The jacket came off. My knee brace rattled against the wheelchair. Each motion resulted in a tweak of pain.

    ¡°Hey, Lance, how long have you been waiting?¡± a physical therapist asked.

    ¡°Three minutes,¡± I answered.

    Post Note: My full name is Lance Hawthorn Underwood. My parents couldn¡¯t have picked a more phallic name if they¡¯d tried. Crataegus (Hawthorn) comes from the Greek kratos (strength) and akis (sharp). This does not help my phallic name, or my impression of my parents¡¯ foresight.

    Admission: It did assist in getting laid during the final year of high school. ¡°Hercules¡± is a good nickname; despite it being about my¨Cas of this moment¨Ctemporarily unusable ¡®junk.¡¯

    I didn¡¯t know my physical therapist¡¯s name. He weighed more than a fitness instructor should. It bothered me. My body never filled out like my older brother¡¯s. He adapted well to muscle while I ¡®slunk around.¡¯ These were observations made by my brother¡¯s wife. She bothered me as well.

    Thirty minutes later, after exercises that wore me out, I lay on a cushioned bed while the overweight physical therapist worked on my leg. It hurt each time he stretched my leg, not a lot, but enough to make my bladder jump. Peeing would have delayed our session by at least ten more minutes and the bus driver would likely be early to pick me up.

    ¡°Have you lined up a therapist? You told me you needed to find one,¡± he asked.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I said mechanically. The hospital gave me a list of objectives to accomplish and none of them were simple. There were forms, websites, and endless pamphlets full of positive messages that bored me senseless.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Post Note: I had not found a therapist for my mental health. I do not believe in psychology as a practice. If I am unable to figure out my own problems, then anything a psychologist states will be pure speculation. I do not like needing help.

    ¡°Good. Recovery isn¡¯t easy, especially when you¡¯ve got so many spots to work on. How¡¯s your arm?¡±

    ¡°Functional,¡± I said.

    ¡°The stretches?¡±

    ¡°I do them every day. They hurt. I do them anyway.¡±

    ¡°Be careful not to push yourself. If it hurts, stop there. We¡¯re trying to ease into recovery. Pushing too hard will cause more damage if you¡¯re not careful.¡±

    I nodded.

    A dozen other people were in the room. Each of them had been broken in some fashion. One woman wore braces on both knees. She limped around better than I could. She peeled an orange that tainted the air with its spicy smell.

    The therapist prodded me both verbally and physically. Muscles were stretched slowly as he struggled to ¡°improve blood flow in damaged areas.¡± He spoke about sports, muscle structure, and movies. I played his silly game and engaged in conversation with the same calm detachment. In the lulls between topics I studied other patients and wondered which of us were better off.

    Doctors stated that younger people bounced back quicker with fewer complications. Their words did not fill me with confidence. The pills did not help. Painkillers lowered my appetite, resulting in additional weight loss, which slowed recovery since I couldn¡¯t build muscles. The longer my condition wore on, the more I learned about how complicated a human body could truly be.

    We were a nightmare of muscles, nerves, blood and bone. Studying online medical journals kept me up at night. There were too many names to properly memorize given my mental delays from drugs. I reviewed pictures and video files. It helped to compare common condition results to my own.

    ¡°All right, we¡¯re all set,¡± the overweight man massaging my leg said. He removed pads from my thigh which used electrical currents. ¡°Are you coming back tomorrow?¡±

    His unprofessional attitude bothered me. An effective employee would be able to reference a simple schedule. I assisted his memory and nodded. Recovery, per the doctor, required three visits a week. Due to limitations, two visits were done in a row.

    I stumbled on a crutch back to my wheelchair. Moving my legs, sitting down, and bending to check my knee brace all hurt. A glance at the time showed me there were two hours before the next round of pills. After that I should be able to drift in and out comfortably until exhaustion put me down. Each day, theoretically, brought me closer to recovery.

    One of the front desk women waved me down at the door. ¡°Mister Underwood?¡±

    Leon, the same bus driver from before, sat outside waiting for me. I saw his face through layers of clear glass. I turned my wheelchair around to face the woman.

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Have you had an opportunity to check with your insurance?¡±

    My insurance came from work. Work had let me go since this was an ¡®at will¡¯ state. They were allowed to release me whenever they wished without explanation. My insurance should be picked up by other sources due to a universal health care law. I understood my own wounds far better than the legalities behind this entire process.

    ¡°Yes. I¡¯m trying to figure out the correct coverage. Send me the bill and I will have it paid,¡± I said.

    The hospital provided a helpline for low income individuals who needed someone to hold their hand. I had not called them yet either. Such necessary actions slipped away from me. My analytical nature didn¡¯t include a sense of urgency. The hospital provided a pamphlet which explained that as well. They had assistance connections for everything.

    ¡°All right. I¡¯ll call the insurance company again to make sure everything is accurate. Chrissy should have it ready for you tomorrow when you come in.¡± She smiled and waved good-bye.

    I pressed the door assistance button and waited for it to open. Leon lowered the bus ramp. The beeping drove my brain into retreat. My head dipped to stare at another patient¡¯s feet through the window to my right. That woman with her oranges paced slowly. Her feet were functional but each step made her wince.

    I wished to close my eyes and wake in the morning, finding all these wounds were simply a dream. I desired to glance down and find my foot whole once more. That was impossible, but hopeful denial made each morning absolute terror.

    ¡°Hello again. The left seat is open if you want it.¡±

    I nodded and wheeled on. The sleeping woman from before must have finished her business at the government building. She sat on the right side sleeping. We continued in silence while my thoughts bent toward a mental checklist. There were too many topics I¡¯d put off from denied depression. The bus dropped me off first. The beeping stirred me out of the fumbled list. Medication and throbbing pain were distracting.

    I pushed myself off the bus then headed back to the family home. My cell phone rang. I paused at the door and dug through my wheelchair pack for the delicate object. The ring tone went with my brother¡¯s phone number.

    Post Note: The cell phone also survived the car accident unhurt.

    For two rings, I contemplated letting it roll to voice mail. He cared. We only had each other, at least in terms of family. Mother passed away two years before from cancer. Our father was overseas on an ¡®around-the-world¡¯ tour. Dad had not called once since the accident.

    The ringing got to be too much. ¡°Hello.¡±

    ¡°Little L, I thought you were ignoring me still.¡± My brother¡¯s voice was light but strong. He raised it to be heard over a crying baby in the background. That was Stella, she was six months old and loud.

    ¡°I was tempted,¡± I said while using my other hand to open the front door.

    ¡°Just getting home?¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    ¡°You know dad¡¯s really happy you¡¯re using the place, right?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I said.

    ¡°Dad still hasn¡¯t called you?¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    He barely qualified as a father at this point. He had become distant since mom passed, which hurt us all in different ways. Richard, perhaps, was the luckiest one. My brother had a wife and kids.

    I had a girlfriend. Now, I did not. I didn¡¯t even have Kent, my father, around to help.

    ¡°Jesus,¡± Richard said. His name was as bad as mine. I assumed our father had a perverse sense of humor. ¡°He said he was coming home this weekend. Not sure why he wouldn¡¯t at least call you once to tell you.¡±

    ¡°Maybe he wanted to surprise me.¡±

    The inside of this house would be too messy for my dad. I¡¯d been a terrible housekeeper, saved only by a general lack of desire for food. There were dirty clothes to wash but getting into the garage required going down a step and over bumpy pavement. I¡¯d tackle that first.

    My brother asked all sorts of nonsense about my current status while I wheeled around to clean up the place. By the time he wound to the end of our conversation my shoulders and ear hurt nearly as much as the rest of me.

    ¡°Rich, I have to take my pills.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± he said. His word drifted away as if distracted. My niece made gurgling noises that were hard to make out. One of my nephews was shouting about food with the self-absorbed tone only an eight year old could have.

    ¡°Are you still praying?¡±

    I lied. ¡°Yes.¡± Prayers were further from my mind with each day. Helping people get home safely had cost me. I firmly believed any God who rewarded good deeds with physical punishment was an asshole.

    ¡°That¡¯s good. And you be careful with those pills. They¡¯re habit forming and doctors say they cloud the mind. I don¡¯t want¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m doing okay. I¡¯m performing the exercises my therapist orders. Dad¡¯s house is still standing. I have not ordered a pizza, even once.¡±

    ¡°What about work?¡±

    ¡°I will find a job once my life has settled down. Unemployment will cover me until then. You are my brother, but not my keeper. Please focus on your children first and foremost. I will be okay.¡±

    He snorted in amusement. ¡°Listen, you little shit¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not little.¡± He was shorter than me by two inches. Richard grew out with muscles while I got our dad¡¯s height.

    ¡°You¡¯re a bean pole. Still. Once you get better I¡¯ll start picking you up for the gym. You can go with me. There¡¯s a yoga class in the afternoon. The ladies there, my goodness. Some of them give a man thoughts, you know?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a what class?¡± my brother¡¯s wife, Violet, shouted loud enough to be heard. She and Richard had met in a gym as well. At least, that¡¯s how their story went. Married straight out of high school then promptly had three children.

    ¡°Darn it. All right, I¡¯ll let you go. I¡¯ve stepped in it now and need to do damage control.¡±

    The clothes were hard to lift off the ground. It took three attempts to get the small basket up to my lap. The prior round of painkillers had mostly faded.

    ¡°I wish you luck,¡± I said while checking the time on a microwave. It was late enough that another dose of pills wouldn¡¯t hurt me. The doctors and pharmacy people were very insistent about how much to take in a day.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah. And maybe one of these¡ª¡± My brother¡¯s tone dipped slightly.

    ¡°What were you saying?¡± Violet¡¯s volume increased. Her footsteps creaked loud enough to be heard through the phone. ¡°What yoga class?¡±

    Richard¡¯s words rushed. ¡°Look. God may say no children out of wedlock, but talking to a girl might help. There¡¯s this one¡ª¡±

    ¡°This one what?¡± Violet said.

    ¡°Anyway, Little L, we¡¯ll hit the gym once you feel better. Exercise can help stabilize someone¡¯s mood. Right? When you get better¡ª¡± The phone clicked off.

    My brother¡¯s words were intended to be positive but left me feeling pale instead. My body had essentially been crippled and constant hip pain would make copulation difficult at best. Being invested in spending time with another person would never happen in the short term. Not this month, not next, or even the next year.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I said to the empty house. The pills were pulled out of a pouch on my wheelchair. I pushed myself to the sink, got water from the one cup not in a cabinet, and wheeled to bed.

    My body heaved in a large sigh. I lifted the latest pain management dosage and swallowed back the pills. The afternoon sun hit shades just right, casting an orange glow to the room. I wondered about using the computer to do more research, calling around for financial aid, and waiting for the drugs to wash away my pain.

    ¡°It will all be okay,¡± I said to an empty room. ¡°I need time to heal. That¡¯s all.¡±

    The silence in response didn¡¯t bother me. Since my accident, I preferred being alone. After all, driving home drunk friends is what caused this physical damage. They pretended to care, but each one of them had this expression on their face, a twitch in their mouths and ears, plus avoiding eye contact; they were ashamed. I was willing to bet they were happy that they¡¯d gotten off so lightly.

    For their reminders and part in the accident, I hated them. Pity or shameful glances were not helpful. They didn¡¯t cause the other man to crash into us, but by the same token, I wouldn¡¯t have been out there if not for them. Their feelings did not make my body suddenly work.

    ¡°I¡¯ll heal from this. I need time.¡± My self-assurances were useless. Both shoulders stayed bunched until the drugs kicked in. I climbed into a pile of blankets on the bed and hoped for sleep.

    It did not come easily.

 Book 1, Rule 2

    Book 1, Rule 2

    Follow Directions & Get Onboard

    Statement: This is when the world went crazy. In this I, and an unknown quantity of others, are taken from our homes in the dead of night. In normal situations a tour guide would have human teeth, but these ladies have mouths full of sharp edges and pointed grins. This implies they are carnivorous.

    Do I want to know what they eat? Most likely people, but this feels unwise to confirm. There may be an unwritten rule that results in death if I know the wrong details. Still, this entire event strikes me as odd, without long term purpose, and whimsical. Yet, it¡¯s widely impacting, which implies time and effort.

    Two weeks later our dad still hadn¡¯t arrived. He had not called. My brother walked around with worry in his voice as other men wore clothes. This probably had more to do with being a father than any sort of filial care.

    As for me, insomnia, a wheelchair, and constant doubt about my future kept me company. Physical therapy felt useless and only caused me pain. Dad¡¯s house had too many challenges to getting around for a half-crippled man. I managed to clean some but many places were beyond my reach.

    After the accident, my brother offered to house me, but with three children he didn¡¯t have an extra room. My nephews did not need to bunk together when dad¡¯s house sat completely empty.

    Savings left over from my job were drying up. I¡¯d finally put in for disability and reviewed healthcare plans but none of them moved quickly enough. The government took forever. Worry kept me up at nights, or the medication they gave me, or pointless pride.

    I existed alone, staring out my window at the unkempt lawn. Dark skies overhead were broken by twinkling stars. A full moon smiled down and lit the neighborhood. Soon I¡¯d be out of money, the mortgage would forfeit, and I barely went outside as it was.

    The pills kicked in at long last. My head drifted forward. Soon there¡¯d be no more worry. I would sleep and in the morning be one step closer to the end. Whether that end involved dying, getting government approval, or suddenly being healed were all unlikely.

    The phone rang. I automatically answered it.

    ¡°Hey, Little L.¡± My brother used an annoying nickname. It barely bothered me. I preferred Little L over the one his little league team used to use.

    ¡°Hello,¡± I responded.

    ¡°How was your day?¡±

    Everything existed in a cloud. The dark skies were out of place for central California. Rain would be welcome. Midday buses smelled funny due to old people and sweat. I hoped the nodder, who had been on the door-to-door service bus every single day, would stop wearing as much perfume. I suspected she wore it to drown out the coughing woman¡¯s foul scent.

    ¡°I am fine,¡± I said.

    Richard paused. Historically, this meant he was about to ask a question that would be annoying. ¡°Have you heard from Dad?¡±

    Post Note: It was an annoying question. Still, this entire situation will turn out to be more important than you may originally believe. In classical terms we would call this an ¡®ill omen.¡¯ People reading this journal should also take note of the following; omens need to be heeded, or else. <u>Learn this quickly</u><u>.</u>

    He had asked me this every night for the last two weeks. The answer remained unchanged but the house kept getting cleaner. Time to straighten out the house was not in short supply. Were my body fully functional, the family home would be even better and I could reseal the kitchen sink.

    ¡°I have not. Nothing has changed.¡±

    ¡°Drat. I called him yesterday but he didn¡¯t answer. Maybe it¡¯s me. There¡¯s a lot of people that aren¡¯t answering calls or sick. It¡¯s flu season, I guess. Have you had your shots yet? You know Stella¡¯s too young to be around you if you get a cold.¡±

    I paused and waited for my sister-in-law to say anything. She did not. I assumed Richard called me at night to keep his wife from overhearing in case he triggered her again. Relationships confused me, which is why I remained mostly unattached to anyone.

    ¡°I will get shots from the pharmacy, tomorrow.¡± I took a breath and fought a losing battle against dizziness. ¡°Have you called the police?¡±

    Richard sighed. ¡°Yeah. I wasn¡¯t sure if I should file a full report. But, they said they will do what they can. I guess dad isn¡¯t the only person missing.¡±

    My fingers idly ran along one of the scars. Richard believed that honoring one¡¯s father also meant looking after him. He loved his family. I would help my brother bury a body, but love felt too strong a word for our relationship.

    He noted my silence and asked, ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re okay? I thought they were giving you less drugs. But you¡¯re still not better?¡±

    ¡°It is late at night, and recovery takes time.¡±

    ¡°You okay dropping by tomorrow? Violet thinks you¡¯re dying in a ditch somewhere,¡± Richard said.

    ¡°Tell her I am not dead in a ditch. But it would be best to call back tomorrow. I will need time to wake properly,¡± I said.

    These were rude lies disguised as truth. My brother believed inviting me over helped my mental stability. It did not. Sleep helped when it finally came. Drugs made the pain distant. They turned my entire mind in an absently distracted creation that barely understood time.

    Relating to people felt easier before the accident. Now, life conspired to make my already distant personality more detached. This also annoyed me, as did many situations.

    My brother kindly let me go. Having an older sibling must be a type of curse. Ancient cultures likely shared warning tales about having too many children. I continued to stare out the window while musing about foolish parents willing have multiple progeny.

    The night passed slowly. My surroundings were dull and gray. The clouds overhead rolled while I stared out dad¡¯s wide front room windows. Underneath my feet the carpet tingled. Drugs magnified the feeling and stretched in odd directions. I blinked and the walls flickered.

    Drugs caused all sorts of effects. Sanity served as the sole bystander in an effort to pass time quicker. I¡¯d rather be whole and healed while remaining ignorant of all the ways my life could go wrong. Children, teenagers, and perhaps even adults, should never be made aware of how close death sat.

    Mom¡¯s passing had been one blow. My accident another. Dad¡¯s abandonment prior to my trip simply compounded problems on top of each other. Life, it turned out, only increased in difficulty.

    Time passed unevenly as a diluted perception took note of the storm overhead. Each time I woke from a spurt of sleep, the clouds were in a new position. The bits of fluff formed faces and bodies of people, who danced along a distorted gray backdrop.

    An ear shredding noise screeched wildly around the corner. Disjointed music played. I immediately glanced at the clouds, searching for a hint of sunlight to explain the rudeness. Not an ounce poured through.

    The streetlamp outside my house flickered and cracked. Sparks faded under a downpour. The rumble of an engine grew. I tightly screwed my eyes shut to block the noise. Naturally, this did not work. Pitch increased yet again another street lamp burst, then three more down the row popped. My television flickered.

    A giant double decker bus careered down the road. Brakes howled as the vehicle slammed to a stop. My heartbeat jumped with worry that it might tip over.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    But it didn¡¯t. The huge bus stayed upright and the remaining lights on the street sparked as they blew. Power in my house died. A background hum, normally tied with electricity, was replaced by a new noise. Laughter, delighted wildly loud amusement that threatened to drive me mad, filled the empty silence.

    ¡°Come one, come all!¡± a muffled voice from outside shouted.

    A woman stood in front of the bus¡¯s main door. Her hair struck me as odd because it was untouched by rain. The poofy do she wore reminded me of old family comedy shows from the sixties. Her clothes were a dull blue only visible because of the light inside the vehicle.

    ¡°Hurry along! Come on! Those who wander are losers!¡±

    ¡°You can stay if you want, but I don¡¯t recommend it. This place is sure to attract the wrong kind of attention soon.¡± A second woman had appeared next to the first. They were identical. I wondered how such a thing was possible and realized they might be twins.

    The rain cleared away making their bus shine like a beacon. A third woman sat on the top, and how she got there I did not see. They all wore the same blue and white clothing. They reminded me of airline stewardesses, but rode on a bus.

    This entire event made no sense. Triplets showing up out of nowhere was a statistical improbability. The more likely answer was extreme makeup or surgery. I swung with dizziness. The drugs were screwing with me. A giggling noise echoed right behind me, and when I turned it became obvious how dark dad¡¯s house had become.

    I¡¯d never felt more alone, or scared. Heavy doses of medication kept me in a numbed state. The corners were darker and it seemed as though tiny creatures skittered across the walls that paused to stare at me. But such a thing would be impossible. Realism did not loosen my tensing shoulders, but medication did.

    Post Note: At the time, I believed this to be a dream, or drug-fueled nightmare. It was not. Having an analytical and detached outlook does not equate to intelligence. In my defense, no one expects such nonsense to derail the world.

    My neck locked, leaving me facing a corner of the room. A shadow there moved in a way that reminded me of a man smiling. Suddenly the depths of my house were alien. I blinked, reminded myself to tighten my groin, and recalled the house should be empty. The delusion resulted from deep pain in my hip and torn muscles still on the mend.

    ¡°There¡¯s money to be had! All those joining us on the tour bus will get free money! Six hundred moneys just for joining us on a relatively short trip,¡± the woman excitedly yelled.

    I turned quickly but couldn¡¯t ignore the feeling of disconnect with the location. The abrupt change, both in my house and outside in the neighborhood, made my skin crawl. Power outages had happened before. Summers were full of them, hot, dry, and without a spark of electricity.

    ¡°This is a dream,¡± I said quietly.

    One of the women looked across the street at me. She crooked a finger while smiling.

    ¡°Come on, everyone, quickly, or be lost forever,¡± the first one shouted. She bent at the waist and pulled her arms back and stomped in joy.

    My head dropped again. I took steadying breaths to assist in separating out the sensations. The bus honked. I lifted my head. People left their houses and walked toward the giant double decker parked in the street.

    They muttered to each other. I could hear them better because I¡¯d opened my own door. The street was full of people in pajamas. Many wore stupefied expressions.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t this exciting, everyone?¡± The woman¡¯s voice reminded me of a peppy tour guide cheering us on. ¡°Come on. Come on, everyone!¡±

    ¡°No exceptions now!¡± Her friend sounded much the same. I could not tell the difference between of them. They were busy smiling at people and handing out money. People had skeptical expressions but came closer.

    I grabbed crutches from near the door and propped myself up. No other disabled individuals were going to the bus and the slight hill in front of my house and partial sedation would make using the wheelchair dangerous. The sky remained cloudy but the rain had stopped. A clear and disturbingly perfect path down the hill helped show me where to plant the crutches.

    ¡°There are lots of prizes for winners. Participation prizes, free money, you all like money right? Plus you won¡¯t be a quitter. Simply get on the vessel and join us for a chance at a lifetime.¡± Their cheery encouragement continued unabated.

    It felt as if my feet were gliding along the ground. Even after noticing, I continued crutching over with freakish ease. My body wanted to go to the giant bus that filled the entire street. Cars were crushed to make room for the vehicle. Slick liquid dribbled off the tires but the color couldn¡¯t be determined. The lights on the bus continued to flicker, as a bonfire might.

    ¡°Form an orderly line, everyone.¡± I did, taking up a spot near the end. More people filed in behind me as the woman continued speaking. ¡°Those stepping outside of the lines will be treated as quitters. Quitters never win! Plus everyone will need the practice. There¡¯s a long line ahead, but it¡¯s so worth it.¡± Her voice didn¡¯t feel as amplified as a loudspeaker. Despite the lack of assistance, their words projected clearly.

    ¡°The chance at a lifetime! Money for everyone, free to spend for great items,¡± she said.

    Ahead, a man shouted with a slight drawl, ¡°Y¡¯all are weird. Don¡¯t you mean ¡®of a lifetime¡¯?¡±

    Their conversation threw me for a loop. Drugs kept me dull but my steps faltered. The lit path faded. Rain sputtered as the halo surrounding this strange vehicle dimmed.

    I glanced over a shoulder. The wheelchair sat in my door. It spun slightly in the open doorway. Then the wheelchair caught a gust of wind and rolled back into the house¡¯s lightless depths. I adjusted my crutches to go back and figure out what had happened. A second gust slammed the door shut. I stood there wondering what sort of madness this dream had spun from.

    ¡°Not at all! But well asked.¡±

    My vision slipped away from noticing the important details. Holding my body up grew harder with each step. I took labored breaths and continued to the bus.

    ¡°Holy shit, twenty bucks for asking a question?¡± The man shoved his fresh cash into a pocket and eyed our neighbors.

    I struggled to keep up with the line. Dozens of people were on the bus. The exact number was impossible to tally, at least for me. Once inside it would be easier to see. Out here, I could only worry there might not be room.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you mean of a lifetime?¡± another man repeated with a raised eyebrow. People piled on, and most of us wore the wrong clothes for a night jaunt. I wanted to go back to the comfort of my house, but that had been robbed. The house would be there, untouched until I got back.

    Post Note: I knew this, but couldn¡¯t say why I knew this. It would not be touched by another person. I¡¯ll explain later.

    Crutches crushed skin under my armpits. In front of me a family with three children fidgeted. Their movements wild, eyes wide, and they kept saying stuff to their parents which I didn¡¯t hear. The crowd moved onward while the others continued to talk.

    ¡°How come he got money for asking a question? Why didn¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°Repeating words with no thought makes you a bird, and birds don¡¯t need money. Thusly, Adamschild, we don¡¯t pay for the same observation twice. Furthermore, as a warning to you dear departing, pointing it out too often has consequences. Remember that, everyone. There is money to be had, and a price for everything. Abuse will not be tolerated.¡± Compared to the children, the stewardess¡¯ voices were extremely clear.

    ¡°Not from you lot,¡± another triplet said.

    While she talked, I walked. Another three had gone onto the bus.

    ¡°From who then?¡± I whispered quietly, struggling to keep up.

    One of the three stewardess turned in my direction. I tensed. Her eyes a distinct green color, bright and nearly glowing. She smiled, revealing a set of sharpened teeth that were wholly inhuman. The woman walked down the orderly line toward me, gave me a once over and paused. Something set her off.

    Post Note: The sheer lack of any noise besides our talking played a factor. I look back on this and realize that we, none of us, were thinking clearly. We should have found the following items odd enough to stay away: heralding explosions from street lamps, lured with money, the realization that children came with us in their pajamas, a lack of nature ambiance, and many other items.

    ¡°You¡¯re not like us, are you?¡± I asked quietly. Pain, drugs, and confusion made me want to stop moving entirely. Still, I functioned enough to be aware this situation wasn¡¯t right. They weren¡¯t normal. Their teeth, eyes, and attitudes pointed to something inhuman. That, or I was in a strange dream.

    Movement caught my eyes. Things crawled between the other peoples¡¯ houses. They were not people or dogs. None of the neighborhood animals were present at all.

    One of the triplets stood in front of me with her absurd green eyes. She smiled, then stuffed two ten dollar bills into my jacket pocket. I only got a glance at them, long enough to wonder when my jacket had been put on.

    She placed a hand on my chest, carefully avoiding the crutches, stood on tippy toes, and whispered in my ear, ¡°A free tip, for being so broken but risking more. Questions can be dangerous to ask. Answers as dangerous to find. Be careful, be quiet, be secretive, and you may survive.¡±

    Her teeth and eyes reminded me of wolves from documentaries. She smelled like a forest after rain should smell. Wild and full of scents that city people would dream about but never truly catch a whiff. I shook and opened my mouth to ask what she meant.

    She stepped back and waggled a finger at me while clicking her tongue. ¡°Now! It¡¯s time to go!¡± She strode down the aisle of seats, putting an extra amount of wiggle into her hips.

    It distracted me but wasn¡¯t responsible for my quickened pulse. This place was not normal. I limped down the aisle, and honestly couldn¡¯t remember what the front of the bus looked like. Hundreds of people were on the bus, but they too slipped my mind. I found a seat, sat down, and placed my crutches between my legs.

    The bus lights weren¡¯t lightbulbs. They were small fires inside glass jars and hung from the ceiling. Stairs leading down were to my right, which made no sense because this bus only had two floors. This entire bus had turned extremely fantastical and it bothered me. I sat across from an exit. The letters E-XI-T glowed a taunting blue that stood out against the darkness.

    Post Note: I did not remember getting on the bus. I did not exit the bus. This is apparent since my journal continues, but I wanted to ensure it was noted, specifically, that I did not exit the bus despite a clear warning sign.

    Inquiry: What would have happened if I exited?

    Speculation: I dare not guess. Exits will prove questionable at best.

    The huge double decker vehicle peeled out. Wheels screeched but didn¡¯t get purchase. We fishtailed and people scrambled to grab handrails. I closed my eyes as we swayed.

    A member of the trio spoke over the speakers, ¡°You¡¯re all doing so well. Everyone here can be a real winner. But if you want off the bus just say so. Until then, my friend will be coming around to you, offering money in exchange for items you own. This is a good time to earn some money.¡± She closed her statement with an excited squeal.

    Dizziness pulled my mind away. I reread the letters E-X-I-T again and again, but thought no more of the stairs leading down or our vehicle¡¯s ridiculous number of seats. Those were unimportant.

 Book 1, Rule 3

    Rule 3

    Check Your Card & Earn Money

    Statement: I am worried. I am exceptionally worried. Yet, there is a space in the back of my head that keeps me moving. If I¡¯m not thinking about anything in particular I hear two thoughts. These thoughts are opposing directions. One states: ¡®Follow directions.¡¯ The other states: ¡®Don¡¯t follow directions.¡¯

    Why are these thoughts opposing? Another concern occurs to me. Why does neither thought imply I should run? This leads me to believe that both thoughts are coming from the same source, as a test of sorts. But who is issuing the test? It feels like I¡¯m still missing details, even in hindsight.

    Reiteration: Further following this train of thought only increases my anxiety.

    The bus rattled on. We hit no bumps, but the vessel¡¯s speed went higher than my county bus driver ever dared. It jerked us around, but still more people arrived on the bus. I squinted, trying to see the front entrance from this far back. The main door should have been closer than it currently had become.

    ¡°Hello, Adamschild,¡± a woman said. I shook my head to brush off the dizzying sensations. They lingered while I struggled to focus on one of the stewardesses.

    ¡°I¡¯m not Adamschild. I¡¯m Lance. Lance Underwood.¡± The Adamschild¡¯s name sounded like one for a legal firm. It was probable she confused me with another man from another bus ride.

    ¡°Oh, you trust me with your name, Mister Underwood? And indeed, an auspicious one at that. Still, rules are rules, by which we all must abide.¡± I blinked at her words. They made no sense, nor did the soft tone which made me feel like I strode along a field of wheat during a sunny day. She continued, ¡°You like moneys right? I¡¯ve an offer for you, sweetling. Fifty moneys for your crutches. Yes?¡±

    She pulled out a set of thick oven mitt-sized gloves. They snapped on. Her pointed teeth aggravated me. They reminded me of an extreme makeover show, where they put people like lizard men or doll girls. Those who believed in modifying themselves so much they no longer looked human.

    But she offered me money for a crutch. It struck me as a prank, or a dare to see what foolish actions men would take for money. I needed them walk. My legs tightened around the crutches. The other side of this trip would probably also involve a lot of standing, and I felt level headed enough to keep long term priorities in mind.

    ¡°No. I need them to survive,¡± I said. My words shook violently with anger. Why, I couldn¡¯t say. I felt nothing but muddled and mentally muted.

    The pale skinned stewardess smiled with rose red lips. Her eyes reminded me of an emerald¡¯s light, one which sparkled with a darkened hue. She almost looked soft, were it not for the sharp teeth.

    ¡°Survival is everything, is it not? Broken as you are. Then one? One of these crutches for fifty moneys and a hint? You do like money, yes? Hints are better.¡±

    ¡°A hint about what?¡±

    ¡°Life.¡± She panted after speaking. Her weight pressed upon my lap and I felt a rush of pleasure to my groin that didn¡¯t fully manifest. The medication hampered any actual arousal.

    In addition, her words made no sense at all. ¡°Life?¡± I struggled to ask. One word felt like forcing myself to stay calm. My eyes drooped and I felt myself in the car crash again. Absentmindedly I waited at a light, then the world jerked sideways as the other car hit me.

    ¡°Focus, mortal man. Focus. On life, yes.¡± She panted.

    I took a sharp breath and reminded myself of the situation at hand. The car wreck had ended. I needed to address the stewardess¡¯s question. I weighed the price of crutches against her words. Getting around with a single support might be possible. The damage to my hips existed mostly on one side. The important part was watching which way my weight balanced to reduce strain.

    Getting around with two was easier. Fifty dollars would barely pay for a new set of crutches but it might be a few days before I could buy new ones. The amount leftover might get me a microwave meal.

    Yet, part of me believed I might never get a crutch to replace this one if I sold it.

    ¡°No deal,¡± I said.

    ¡°Truly? Would you not be parted from such nasty and unloving metal? Do you need them both?¡± She whispered in my ear. This scent smelled nothing like the girl from before. Honey hung heavily at the nape of her neck, which I noticed, despite the medication. Smooth skin stretched over a well formed collarbone. Her weight hardly existed, and I wondered if that meant something.

    My crutches were to the side. They¡¯d been between my legs and somehow moved so she could sit down. I didn¡¯t remember them moving and struggled to retrace what happened. Something inside me clicked, and for a single moment the world felt completely clear. She¡¯d shifted them. These ladies were playing games. Everything about this situation was wrong, then that suspicion slipped away.

    Post Note: As I later discovered, this was not merely the drugs, or being physically broken. They were doing something to us. Something that made children and parents leave their homes in the dead of night. Still, this portion is key. Her advice helped me later, when I truly needed it. Still, I often wonder, late at night, if this was a trap.

    My head shook. I could survive without either crutch but walking hurt. Tearing more muscles would put me further back in therapy. I waffled on the subject and shook my head in again. Both braces kept me from falling on the ground and making my current health problems even worse.

    ¡°Then a simple bit of advice, in tribute to your name¡¯s potential. This is different than a tip for your handicap. Would you accept that? With a promise, of course, to tell no one.¡±

    It struck me as odd that this stewardess needed my permission for anything. Still, it required nothing from me at all. This time, I nodded.

    ¡°A secret, on survival. My best secret.¡± She nodded happily. ¡°Heed the clues. The bold are quickest to die. The fearful die almost as fast. A clever man may be tempted to lie, and also die. But to survive, one must be a little of all three.¡±

    I dared ask, ¡°Why did you tell me?¡±

    ¡°A secret no one else knows is worthless. A secret only two know is dangerously delicious to keep. Maybe you¡¯ll find me, and give me a secret in return. One only we two know.¡± She wiggled on my lap, and the drugs no longer suppressed my reaction. Despite her glowing eyes and sharpened smile, she felt great.

    Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed another one of the stewardesses exchanging a man¡¯s phone for one hundred dollars. The price struck me as odd. I slowly came around to this weird idea that everything could be exchanged for money. Especially since, I and many others probably hadn¡¯t brought our wallets.

    ¡°How much was that worth?¡± I asked.

    ¡°How much is your life worth? A secret for a secret? It would be so tasty to share a secret of an Underwood.¡± She smiled again.

    These stewardesses were always grinning in wide expressions that threatened to split their faces into two. As she walked off, I drifted. The bus kept going but it felt nothing like a normal vehicle roaming the county. People walked down the aisle and vanished up and down the stairs. Once again, it struck me how odd this entire trip was, which got buried as I read the letters E-X-I-T and wondered what part of town we were in.

    Rain splattered against the windows. Darkness fought with flickering firelight from inside the vehicle. Lightning outside flashed, illuminating more houses from suburbia. I saw creatures moving between the houses again. They were long spindly creatures that were probably regular people being distorted by shadows.

    I pressed a hand against the glass. It felt warm, almost burning, despite the cold weather outside. My eyes closed and the world spun. Many nights of broken sleep pulled me into unconsciousness. Vaguely, I felt a body thump down into the seat next to mine. Then they left, and another person, much lighter, arrived. Every so often I¡¯d pop my eyes open then look around.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    ¡°Come on!¡± someone shouted next to me. ¡°It¡¯s time for all adventurous men and women to exit! Prizes await the bold.¡±

    The sudden noise shook me. My crutches banged against each other, earning me a sour glare from one of the women. People walked by me with dull faces. Others shook, and a young boy kept tugging on his mom¡¯s sleeve, begging to go home.

    I waited for enough clear space to get myself into the aisle. It took time. The crowd got thinner and thinner and once again it struck me odd how full this bus had been. Yet, the exit that everyone left through was right next to me. Every person stepped off the vehicle and safely got into a long line outside a convention center of some sort. Huge walls were decorated with smiling creatures.

    A long line of people milled around right outside the doorway. It went on forever and a day.

    Post Note: I now know how long a forever really is. This measurement turned out to not be an exaggeration. Forever, it turns out, is not as long as we wish it to be but longer than mere mortals can withstand.

    The bus emptied enough for me to stand. Someone lowered a ramp and out I went, with even more pouring out behind me. Ahead, the stewardesses, or perhaps a set of identical triplets to the first trio, cheered us on happily.

    ¡°Now remember, everyone should follow the rules and work together.¡±

    ¡°Those who break away from the pack may become very unhappy at what they missed.¡±

    ¡°But if you want to live, be sure to pay attention.¡±

    ¡°We do pay for attention,¡± they said in unison. This set of three wore slightly different clothes and had their hair pulled back with scarves. I turned to see the three behind us, with puffed up hairdos, and wondered why the group ahead wore their attire differently.

    A man broke up their circle of talking. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll learn. Now, everyone take a card! Come on, as you pass by, take a card! It will help. You¡¯ll see. If you¡¯ve the eyes.¡±

    ¡°Now. You must hold your card for the entire duration of this trip. Those who don¡¯t will be never make it back. As you can see by the weather outside, getting home without our assistance will be difficult. Though you are certainly free to try.¡±

    I repositioned the crutches and turned slightly. Two people went right by me while I studied where we were. Each building looked exactly like this one and stretched on forever. On the other side of the street sat another bus, just like ours, with people getting off of it. Lightning flashed, and I assumed it to be a trick of the drugs when thunder distorted the air between our buses.

    Someone grabbed my hand off the crutch. My body swayed to one side. One of the scarf wearing stewardesses shoved a piece of paper into my hand. She licked her lips and wrinkled her nose. The crutches bothered her.

    ¡°Do be careful with your card, everyone! This is yours and yours alone. Letting others touch, see, or nibble on your card can result in undesired side effects. It also functions as a¡­ what do you people call them? Debt card.¡±

    ¡°Debit,¡± someone next to me muttered.

    ¡°Yes, a debt card. See? It¡¯s all very technical I¡¯m afraid. In lame man''s terms, simply touch the money we¡¯ve given you to the card. It will store your debt.¡±

    I re-situated the crutch and pulled out money from my shirt where it¡¯d been sitting. The cash I¡¯d been given did not look like normal dollar bills. Instead, these had a long, drawn-out face upon them. The ears were pointed and drew back and swallowed by unruly hair. The green upon the bills reminded me of the stewardesses. They had the exact same eyes.

    When money touched the card, it burned to ash that fell apart before they touched the ground. The value on my card changed to reflect a new number, six hundred and twenty dollars. That value struck me as odd but I couldn¡¯t place why.

    ¡°Very technical! No need to question such a minor miracle. By far the least odd thing you¡¯ll see. But money, and prizes, await near the end of the line! And remember.¡± She took a deep breath and all three shouted in unison, ¡°Don¡¯t let anyone else touch your card!¡±

    They waved us on. Their words were strangely acceptable to me. I stared at the card. Upon it displayed three items: my name, a dollar amount, and a blank space in between that said [Wanderer].

    Post Note: Were it not for the metal of those crutches, I might not have noticed anything, much less survived. Oddly; a crutch means both physical and mental support.

    ¡°All you need to do, to be done with this place, is reach an end,¡± one of the unending clones said. Her eyes, however, were yellow. Not green like the three from the bus.

    ¡°Make it to the end of the line, and you¡¯ll be able to go home with prizes!¡±

    ¡°Great prizes,¡± a third stewardess said. She nodded and smiled. All three had the same thin lips which only revealed the barest hint of teeth. Their eyes were all yellow, a sick glowing yellow that reminded me of those store bought glow sticks for parties.

    ¡°Hey, you can¡¯t keep us here!¡± a man who lived in my neighborhood shouted angrily.

    All three stewardesses turned at the same time to face him. They exchanged glances and tittered, which turned into outright laughter that had each one clutching their sides. Finally, one wiped away tears and said, ¡°Of course we are capable of doing so. But if you want to leave, go right ahead. There¡¯s an exit at every corner.¡±

    After that they spoke in turn.

    ¡°Of course you can walk away, at any time.¡±

    ¡°At least until you get to an exit. There are two, do pay attention to the differences.¡±

    ¡°Yes. An exit lets you quit our little adventure. The exit may give you more prizes! After that we¡¯re not responsible for you.¡±

    ¡°Though, we¡¯re not responsible for your decisions. Silly, Adamschild.¡±

    That name struck me as odd. They clearly thought we were all lawyers. The man blanched and drew back. His head shook and eyes glossed over. He stood in line a bit longer, clutching the card in his hands.

    ¡°Oh no. That¡¯s not our job at all.¡±

    ¡°Not at all.¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    The three of them all glanced toward each other and covered their mouths with their hands. Again, they tittered in unison and turned toward the burly grump.

    ¡°The first exit is right over there. A shortcut to an end. Losers get no prizes and miss chances at more.¡±

    ¡°We can go home if we go through the exit?¡± the mother ahead of us asked. Her son looked over with a wide expression.

    ¡°Of course, an exit lets you escape. Or reach the exit and you¡¯ll get to return with prizes.¡±

    She and her son both stared at each other and exchanged a hushed conversation. Their faces flickered through a range of emotions, then in unison they got into line. I watched as their eyelids dragged and bodies slumped.

    I clutched the bracing bar of my crutches and ran my fingers against the metal siding. My gaze stayed focused upon the trio of girls who all took turns shouting out their strangely worded encouragements. With every second it felt like they were clearer. I clenched a fist and the idea faded.

    One of them appeared right in front of me. She stared in disgust at the heavy objects propping me up. The women turned on her sharp toothed charm and asked, ¡°Sixty moneys for your crutches?¡±

    ¡°No. I need them.¡± I blinked again. ¡°You¡¯re not human. Are you?¡±

    The stewardess smiled and calmly pulled out a ten dollar bill. She tucked it into my jacket pocket and pointed along the quickly moving line.

    ¡°Beware speculation. Truth has been known to cost, Adamschild. A price higher than petty flesh. Keep going, but no need to hurry.¡±

    ¡°My name is Underwood,¡± I muttered.

    ¡°Oh my! How auspicious. But rules are rules, even for an Underwood. Traverse the line. Buy your favors with the debt card.¡±

    I shuddered, but the line kept moving. My armpits braced against the crutches and I rubbed my palms together to fight numbness. The sensation dimmed my mind, and once I¡¯d shaken off the latest haze, my feet had crutched around another corner. The line never stopped moving and my ability to focus on it shifted constantly.

    Post Note: In hindsight, this reminds me much of cattle to the slaughter. Yet, so many people went on unquestioningly. Or, if they were like me, they questioned constantly but couldn¡¯t connect thoughts together long enough to make a difference. We were all in a dream full of nonsense.

    We kept moving. There were exchanges between the other people in line and an endless stream of identically dressed girls. I struggled to hear their words but frequently they slipped away.

    After an unknown amount of time, I found myself turned around, staring back the way we¡¯d come. Above me was a high open ceiling held up by huge pillars. In the far distance, beyond waves of people who wound around buildings and structures, almost farther than I could see, sat a reddish black wall. Above, in strangely gray clouds, seemed to be the letters E-X-I-T. They were colored nothing like the ones on the bus.

    I turned back and saw a small girl, no more than four feet tall. She¡¯d been one of my neighbors but her parents were nowhere to be seen. Constance, or Connie as her parents yelled, bent over the flowerbed. Connie got a smile from the next tour guide and twenty dollars. The tour guide planted the flower in her hair and chatted to her coworker.

    ¡°It¡¯s lovely isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Mine¡¯s better,¡± her companion responded. ¡°Yours is clearly dying. It¡¯s wilted on one side and the petals are smaller.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but mine came from a much cuter source. Yours came from that bald old sack of meat,¡± the first responded.

    The line kept going. I walked briskly past them and filed away all sorts of speculation. This place confused me and none of the rules made sense. At the least I established the following: there were lots of secrets. Spouting the right words to one of the lookalike women earned a small amount of change. Giving them a flower resulted in more money to touch to our cards.

    Speculation: We are receiving cash in exchange for the right gifts, questions, and noticing key details. Money is being handed out too freely, therefore we¡¯ll be exchanging it for something even more important.

    I weakly clenched my hands, and resolved to keep alert. It would prove difficult since the feeling of all my medication still hadn¡¯t faded. This place only heightened the effects. Clutching my crutches for balance helped brush away the fog.

    A man walked toward the exit. I, and a large group of others, stopped moving in the line and watched. We had been told that quitting was simple, but so far no one dared walk through and give up on their prizes. I couldn¡¯t tell how much time had actually passed. We all hushed.

    Post Note: Penguins crowd each other over the edge of an iceberg, and in some cases push a weaker few into the water as bait for seals and orcas. Were I to know then what I know now, I would have been able to warn him. Instead, we all treated him like the first penguin being pushed over the edge.

    ¡°This is stupid.¡± His voice trembled. ¡°Afraid of a doorway. I¡¯m being silly. I¡¯ll just, leave, and go get a cab home.¡± The man muttered to himself to build up courage and finally stepped through the doorway.

    The shadows moved. He turned and lifted his hands to defend from something unseen. Then his body faded. A yell, loud enough to make even the bravest man tense, broke through the doorway. It lingered while we all watched in stupefied terror. Not one person stepped out of line after him. The blue letters flashed and the scream stopped.

    Post Note: If you are confused by this recount, or don¡¯t remember going through the choosing yourself, then trust me when I say, this happened. This happened over, and over, and over again. I believe they were not exiting the line, they were exiting life.

    I glanced down at the card in my hand. The total dollar amount on my card had increased. It almost struck me as odd that watching a person die earned me money. Even drugs couldn¡¯t keep me calm anymore. Yet, the line was full of people moving unceasingly toward the end.

    So, on I went.

 Book 1, Rule 4

    Rule 4

    Count Your Change & Avoid Snacking Food

    Statement: When we earn money, we think of buying televisions, cars, games, or paying bills. Mostly paying bills. Here we earned money and at each corner the employees reiterated the grand prizes waiting for us toward the end. Yet, if we were intended to spend money on prizes¨Cwhy did they make the line so insanely long?

    An addict wants to get their fix quickly. A desperate person needs enough to pay off their debts. All these actions were designed to lure our inquisitive natures in. We explored ways to earn more cash, such as watching people use an exit. They were weeding us out, separating the questioning and nosey from those whose hearts weren¡¯t into solving a mystery.

    The line jumped by in clumps. Drug induced dreams were often disjointed but this event had too much going on to be purely a construct of my mind. At least, I thought it did. But every time my eyes opened the scene changed a little.

    I stared at my small card. The numbers on it were up to six hundred and thirty eight. Math would be impossible to apply correctly. Each time my brain attempted to add two and two, I got a greek beta symbol in response. It meant nothing.

    Belatedly, I started connecting the dots. It happened with each pause, as I watched three more people quit and earned more money. At times I came to, finding myself studying the distant skyline that was visible through a window on the second floor. Yet, the line kept going on, impossibly huge and twisting in ways that made no sense.

    I grew attached to the idea of this being a strange dream. That comforted me while I watched a man violently shake a vending machine. The memory of him walking up to the machine was vague, as if I¡¯d watched through a thick fog. My eyes drifted and I tried to understand what was happening.

    ¡°Give me my food!¡± the unknown man yelled. He wore a backward ball cap and jersey. His belly stuck out from a pair of pants multiple sizes too small. I shuddered with disgust. ¡°I¡¯m really hungry! What¡¯s with this machine, why doesn¡¯t it take dollars?¡±

    ¡°Careful, that machine eats your money,¡± another person said. ¡°My friend up ahead lost ten bucks on it.¡±

    ¡°What the fuck is wrong with this place? I mean five bucks for a bag of chips? What a rip off,¡± he shouted and slammed his palms onto the glass front, rocking the machine.

    Metal slowly slid along the vending machine¡¯s outer shell, crawling up from the back like a budding flower. The man paid it no heed, instead he shook the offending object more. I raised a hand from the crutch, blinked, and the man was gone.

    A dozen possible ideas muddled their way through my thoughts but none were certain. The card had increased in value. Seven hundred and six dollars now sat on the balance. I determined that my own thirst could wait. Food and water cost money, money was important. That much was lodged into every part of my brain, except for the ones chanting ¡®follow the rules¡¯ and ¡®don¡¯t listen to the rules.¡¯

    We kept walking. My body jerked and hand grasped at the crutch in response to a startling shout. Handrails were bolted to a wall on one side, and a rest area on the other with very welcoming seats.

    ¡°Hey!¡± a loud voice ahead of me shouted again. He continued, ¡°You little brat. Give me back that money!¡±

    The line in front of me rippled as people bent away from a sudden outburst. Birds avoiding a hawk couldn¡¯t have moved better. I, on my crutches, fell back, gasping for support and pointing the end toward anyone who dared get too close. A few people glanced my way but they were glassy-eyed.

    ¡°Give that back! What? Where are you! No! Give me your card!¡± the man bellowed demands while pushing his way through the crowd. People were knocked over and a large person who reminded me of a pig barged out past me.

    Post Note: He was just fat. Extremely so. Technically he could have been three of me. When this man barreled through the crowd people crumpled.

    ¡°Where?¡± the burly man demanded of the crowd. A few people pointed, others blinked, and I waved my support stick at all of them, in case they got funny ideas.

    A second figure, much thinner and to my left, charged away. The heavyset man bolted after him.

    My heart pounded faster than their fading footsteps. I turned to follow the robber¡¯s movement. All at once, pandemonium broke out. People ran around yelling at each other. The crowd burst again as a dozen individuals fought over objects.

    I pocketed my card quickly in case anyone decided to pick on a cripple.

    The crowd¡¯s madness increased. I kicked myself up against the wall under wooden handrails. My body paled as people punched and clawed. Someone with baggy pants fell back on me and kicked wildly. Fingers ached from a death grip upon my crutches. I pushed the man back.

    My armpits were sore and worn. The line had been longer than I realized. Such pain only came after hours of using them to prop myself up. A dozen other worries flashed through once I realized how long it had been.

    Hunger hit. My body shook. I sat on the floor pointing my crutches in wavering defense like a panicking madman. They eyed me. Some stepped closer. Two approached me but fought each other instead. I groaned in pain from the pressure on my hips and abrupt fall. My foot lashed toward a person getting too close.

    My mouth hung open. No words came out. I scanned the crowd for signs of sanity. None of the people near me resembled those from earlier blips of awareness. There were no friends or family members. Energy flooded my body, starting from the base of my spine then tickling neck muscles. People edged closer while flailing. Most wore the same dead gaze.

    Another man reached out for my crutch. I smacked him. Someone dodged in from the side and grabbed the extended tip. His eyes widened and mouth hung open. I bonked him with the other crutch, which spun me onto my side. My fingers lost their grip. A third figure swooped in, took my support, and ran off.

    I scrambled after him but failed to get ahold of the thief. My arms clasped around the remaining crutch and fingers tightened. Water dripped from my eyes. I flailed, hitting three people in their legs. A woman crumpled next to me and scrambled to get away. Her eyes wide with fear and insanity.

    ¡°Stay away!¡± I croaked. My voice felt unused and body awash with adrenaline. ¡°Back, you mindless zombies.¡± I voiced the first insult that came to mind. ¡°I need these to walk. I need to walk.¡±

    The world slowed down. Shadows grew longer. Peoples¡¯ steps faltered. Hot breath tingled at my ear and a small hand touched my shoulder.

    A woman whispered in my ear, ¡°You need to walk? Do you value legs as much as gossamer wings? It saddens me to see an Underwood so hapless among the wolves of iron.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    I spared her a glance and saw a sharp-toothed woman with puffy hair. She might have been the same one from the bus, or it could have been one of an endless army. I wondered if my pills had been laced, or the water from our neighborhood. But those thoughts turned murky.

    She moved in a single motion that blurred uncomfortably. Time resumed normal speeds as people around us hushed while backing up. They were scared of the girls, and some clutched objects as tightly as I grasped the remaining crutch.

    ¡°What do we have here?¡± a second woman demanded. Her words carried strongly through the area, holding a nasty tone of disapproval.

    ¡°I¡¯ll sell you this crutch?¡± a normal person asked. I say normal because she wore a thin top and pajama bottoms with video game characters printed on them. ¡°What will you offer for it?¡±

    The green-eyed stewardess flowed over to the pajama wearer. Her nose wrinkled. It was the first time I¡¯d ever seen one of them truly unhappy. I suspected it was because of her mistaken impression of my family name.

    ¡°No deal, unfortunately. That is not yours. We don¡¯t steal or lie. We barter or bribe and certainly cheat, but stealing is something only a base Neanderthal does. And liars, liars are filth. Liars caused this¡ª¡±She held very still. The other two green-eyed girls turned toward their spokeswoman. Their hands quickly covered mouths wide from horror.

    There had been a secret there, one not to be freely given like their earlier advice. Plus, she was defending me while insulting the other person. She shook her head. They relaxed as tight shoulders loosened.

    The thief pointed at me. ¡°But he¡¯s crippled. He can¡¯t possibly¡­¡± Her gaze faltered. She held keys in her other hand. Liquid dripped from their edges. I suspected she had fought the original boy who stole the crutch.

    ¡°Rules are rules. Here, in this place, it is not your choice to give away another¡¯s things. You can buy it for money, then sell it for money. You can bargain and exchange favors. I believe you¡¯ll find two people over there, mid copulation, for twenty dollars. They seem to be having fun and making a deal in the process!¡±

    All three bobbed their heads in unison. They reminded me of old women nodding to a frothing pastor. My brother used the exact same gesture during a powerful sermon.

    The thief said, ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Now, now. Behave,¡± they said in unison while waggling their fingers.

    ¡°Or don¡¯t,¡± another set responded.

    I turned quickly, still on the ground, to see the other women. Six different ladies and a broken gaggle of tourists were hard to take in all at once. My head flipped back and forth to watch the odd duplicates of each other argue. They stood close together and had the same curled lips, clothes, and toothy grins. Only their eyes and hair were different for reasons unapparent to me.

    ¡°Rules must be followed,¡± one of the green-eyed girls insisted. Her eyebrows lowered at the same time.

    ¡°That is true.¡± The yellow-eyed ones with scarves smiled widely, showing more teeth than a normal human should have¡ªto say nothing of their sharpness. Their tone was a bit sharper and higher pitched. I could hear the differences since they were all close by.

    ¡°Follow the rules, behave while in line. Reach an end,¡± all six said.

    I twitched at the grating sound of so many people echoing the same words. A pulling sensation caused my head to dip. I clutched my lone support, pulling it tight to my chest while lying on the floor. The closer it was, the clearer my mind felt.

    They¡¯d never given me back my other crutch despite making a fuss over it.

    People milled around as the line reformed. I had no clue what was happening. They acted like clueless sheep. My thoughts fought to stay above the fog while others clearly fell victim to an unknown power. In that we were different. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was the solidarity of having a crutch or simply its material. I suspected it to be the material.

    An army of stewardesses offering money to people in exchange for items certainly was suspicious. The crutch helped me see clearly. Slowly I pieced more together. Every time I¡¯d come to I¡¯d been holding onto the actual metal, not the padding.

    I did not know what might cause such an effect. Speculation led me to believe the substance itself warded off whatever effects were tackling the crowd. Alternately, it could have simply been a hyper awareness due to paranoia about spilling onto the ground.

    All around me people shuffled forward once more. I turned to check outside but the window I¡¯d been passing before was gone. We were in a giant mall with stores of some sort. Many people walked by automatically. Others held their cards like greedy children and went inside.

    Time blurred. I found myself sitting on the ground staring at my hands. My crutch lay next to me. No one touched or tried to steal it. A few people shook their heads and hopefully decided further theft attempts were pointless. I slowly pushed myself upright while grunting from unmuted pain. My body wobbled, and after a long pause to gather strength, I merged with the line once more.

    People passed by me quickly. Each step hurt. At the corner stood one of the green-eyed girls. ¡°You¡¯re taking a long time,¡± she said as I approached.

    Her words made me pause at the corner. I winced while assembling my thoughts slowly. She tilted her head and smiled, not bothering to hide the teeth. Either she didn¡¯t care that I knew, or wanted to remind me of her inhumanity. Or, and this was the option I hoped for, she was simply messing with me and at the end this would turn out to be a strange reality television show.

    Then I recalled the giant wall of dark which had been drawing closer.

    ¡°Something bad happens to those who wait too long, doesn¡¯t it?¡± I asked.

    Her lips stretched thin from a large smile. The stewardess handed me a ten dollar bill and cocked her head in the other direction. It reminded me of a wild animal, or a dog, studying a piece of food.

    ¡°There are benefits to waiting,¡± she said. A glint in her eyes distracted me and I lost two places as people walked around me.

    Post Note: The inhuman stewardess with green eyes did not solely mean benefits to me, or any of us. Likely she said it in such a way that I would infer there are benefits to me if I delay. Standing in this line made us hungry. Vending machines give food for money at exurbanite prices. The exchange is brutal but will power and physical training can overcome some effects. This means the exchange is choice based. It is likely both are true. Waiting had benefits to us, and them.

    ¡°You¡¯re not human,¡± I mumbled.

    ¡°You¡¯ve said that. I¡¯m afraid we don¡¯t award for duplicate observations. Unless you have another mystery to note?¡±

    My mind drifted and her body fuzzed out for a moment. Hunger pains threatened to drive me insane. At the least, I needed water soon.

    ¡°No,¡± I said and crutched off rapidly. My small burst of energy didn¡¯t last long. Despite traveling over twenty feet, the green-eyed stewardess could still be heard tittering behind me.

    A fresh wave of pain hit. I huffed repeatedly, bracing the remaining crutch and semi-decent leg. For a moment, I truly considered letting go of the edge so that all my body¡¯s hurts would fade away. Then I remembered the man who¡¯d walked into the exit sign and been torn apart. I could recall how eager they were to give me money for even a single statement. They were wearing us down.

    Post Note: I was not proud of this moment. I knew the haze would be dangerous. The people around me were a pack of wolves but that did nothing to stop me from being mentally weak. I can only say that pain drove me to be afraid. In that, I was a slave to my flesh.

    I fought through the hunger and thirst. I couldn¡¯t walk right without the crutch. The gnawing feeling grew in intensity. So, I finally braved one of the vending machines.

    Others were in line to get food and water. Everywhere in the place involved lines and there were no exceptions. I studied them, and none of them had the same problem as the person I¡¯d seen earlier.

    I took my turn, and raised my card carefully after checking the people behind me multiple times. No one rushed in. No one tried to grab my card. The debt holder slid down. I pressed buttons for a bottle of water. The vending machine purred, literally, then popped out a bottle of water.

    In the back of the vending machine, behind rows of food, a wide smile appeared. The grin made me backup a few steps, and once I did, the expression in the box¡¯s rear vanished as if it had never been. I tilted to the left, and right, checking for extra arms or metal poles sliding along the sides. Nothing moved.

    Instead, I saw a window that looked over an endless sea of people. I shuffled to the side, ignoring the ever moving line, and studied the world outside.

    I looked out over an endless crowd once more and realized exactly how many people were here, still. Millions, if not more, were lined up on an endless mess that couldn¡¯t possibly be real, but it was. There were too many people milling around that were varied, detailed, and interacting in ways that were beyond my imagination. This could not be a simple dream.

    For a long time, I wondered if the water might be contaminated, or if there was a point to drinking it. But there were tons of people out there and the line crept forward inches at a time. I needed to drink or I might not survive. Choosing not to eat would end with me crawling along and making muddled decisions. Spending money to satiate myself would cost me chances at these prizes. I also suspected the ¡®debt card¡¯ was not a mistake of communication.

    In truth, my actual thoughts were hardly objective. There were a jumbled and confusing mess all tied together with laces of panic. I struggled to keep myself detached because worry would slow me down.

    But it was impossible not to feel some emotions. Especially once I realized there were more people here than my town could possible support alone. I knew, with certainty, that I would not make it to my brother¡¯s tomorrow. My family might be in the crowd as well. Unless they had taken an exit, as so many others had.

    I gulped down another sip of water and struggled not to think about situations well beyond my control.

 Book 1, Rule 5

    Statement: There were so many events going on. Most of which I only observed and didn¡¯t dare take part in. My handicaps made me an easy target, and only the crowd¡¯s dim herd mentality kept them moving toward an end. Yet, there were a few, like myself, who woke up to see the world for what it was. We each found ways to earn small amounts of money.

    I¡¯ve hinted enough at the reason. I¡¯ve shown you many of the pieces by which people could get ahead¡ªyet there were a hundred other keywords, secret methods, and possible routes through the course. People skipped up in the line, some shared secrets or tips, others bribed people to switch spots, and some outright whored themselves as a way to get ahead. Some, filth that they were, sold their children. The ladies with sharp teeth smiled all the while¡­

    My hands gripped wrong on the side of the crutch. It hurt. My arms screamed. My hip joined to form a chorus of pain. It didn¡¯t matter, stopping wasn¡¯t an option. If I accepted the premise that this had always been real, then I couldn¡¯t afford to lose my wits.

    By God, one I¡¯d questioned my faith in since the accident, everything oozed wildly with pain. Each step took more effort than the last. Aches plagued me with each shallow breath.

    I made it through three flights of stairs to the shopping center I¡¯d seen while drinking water. There was a long line of mall-style store fronts. They were closing, and I had no clue how far the rows of shops went. I did know that somehow they were the point we¡¯d been building to.

    The choices were to quit, to die, to sleep no more, or to risk it all by finding a shop. I had to bet it on going into one of these stores to get something worthwhile for this hell. There were no other ways for me to survive.

    A dozen shops were nearby but most were boarded up. What they contained was beyond me. I couldn¡¯t even read their names. Signs hung in the door but probably said ¡®closed.¡¯ If the vending machines, stewardesses, and money were any indication, nothing in this place was truly like normal reality. I continued to attempt rationalization but hunger and pain didn¡¯t help.

    I struggled to reach an open location. Having money and spending it in these stores had to be part of the goal; part of the prizes alluded to earlier. I knew for certain that the two were related. The knowledge haunted a portion of my rear brain in the same manner voices chanted ¡®obey the rules¡¯ or ¡®ignore the rules.¡¯

    The reasons didn¡¯t matter. Behind me the wall of blackness signaling a bad end approached. I¡¯d fallen so far behind due to limping along and pain. There had been others moving slower than me, but they were lost, gone, quitters, or something else.

    Ahead, a woman with a large overburdened stroller struggled to make it to a nearby store. I blanched upon putting her heavyset features and endless snot filled coughs together. This older woman was the same one from my bus. She had been the only person I recognized.

    ¡°Hey,¡± the woman shouted as I crutched past. ¡°Help me.¡±

    I said nothing. My chest and body hurt too much.

    ¡°Hey!¡± She coughed wetly.

    My steps faltered as all the considerations possible flickered through. I wondered about the truth of this place. I halted, steadied myself, and checked the card¡¯s balance. It sat safely inside a jacket pocket and registered eight hundred and seven dollars. I had no way to measure this total against anyone else¡¯s.

    ¡°Push me,¡± she demanded.

    I spun slowly. In a row sat me, nearing the end of the stores, her, and the looming wall of rust and black. It swirled and letters formed above it along the mall¡¯s ceiling. ¡®E-X-I-T¡¯ they read. It did not look friendly or blue. The meaning of those colors was beyond me but the darkness made my chest tighten even more.

    ¡°You, I¡¯ll sell you a pain pill. I have my pills. Those little shits tried to steal them but¡ª¡± The old woman coughed violently. Her body must be in worse shape than mine.

    Her mind was clear. Large, flabby arms rested upon the stroller¡¯s front end. Like me, she touched a harder metal. That, along with the keys in that scrapper¡¯s hands clearly meant heavier elements helped. I didn¡¯t know if it was iron, or anything else put into the object.

    ¡°No,¡± I said.

    ¡°I can¡¯t go on¡­¡± she said. Her body slowed to a stop. ¡°I never could make it. I should have quit from the start. Like that asshole bus driver said. God help me, I¡¯ll be free of this hell at last. It¡¯s sick. This place is twisted and disgusting.¡±

    I nodded. During my awareness I¡¯d seen more than anyone should. Most of it was lost under a haze but there were lingering memories that spoke of disgusting atrocities. People  doing immoral acts simply to get fake money. Some ganged up and threw others into the exits and we split money. Those ladies always showed up as the crowd turned on me. I questioned it, but felt perversely relieved at not being the target.

    Post Note: It seems strange, looking back, that I was so compartmentalized. This has not gone away, and I worry that perhaps I¡¯d been broken from the very beginning. The accident had shaken me from a close call with death, and I couldn¡¯t see the world in the same manner.

    Muscles on the old woman¡¯s shoulders and legs sagged. She fell onto her knees with a sickening crunch. She turned slightly to see the wall. As she twisted, I could see the clouded look overtaking her eyes. The wall approached.

    My eyes widened and head shook. It was one thing to watch a person go into the wall of their own volition, but quite another to see someone so feeble they couldn¡¯t keep up. I watched as the black wall swallowed her. Even clouded by this place, she had enough awareness to scream; a hoarse wet sound devolved into short sobs then cut off. My heart seized for two beats in sheer terror. All that remained was the packed stroller¡¯s outline. It lingered for a few seconds before the wall moved forward another foot.

    The wall had eaten her, as those exits had taken so many others. This was about survival of the fittest, a category I didn¡¯t belong to. But I didn¡¯t want to fall to the ground screaming in terror as unseen forces had their way.

    My arms were raw. A trail of blood dripped down, mixed with sweat. My grip faltered over and over, making focusing even harder. I thought about letting myself be swallowed by the darkness more than once in the span of a minute. Every few seconds I¡¯d hear another scream from one of the clouded figures who walked in the wrong direction.

    It was horrible of me, but their dying screams kept me moving.

    Another store closed as I approached. A minute later, another store with sliding doors shut in my face. The doors laughed. At a third spot I walked up to a supremely tall woman with sharp ears locked the entrance. She mouthed unheard words at me then pointed behind me. Options were running out.

    ¡°Last chance to shop for prizes,¡± a woman said. ¡°Big blowout sale! All half items for half off!¡±

    She waved a giant sign. Next to her three children jumped wildly. They too had signs, colored badly with misspelled words. I couldn¡¯t pause to study the youngsters but in the haze were a dozen different snapshots explaining what happened. Thinking on the horrible exchanges of parents selling their children, or parents falling behind, or those who were abandoned by exiting caretakers, each instance somehow helped me keep going. Every person who died meant I had survived.

    I faded in and out. My stomach growled repeatedly and finally settled on twisting into a knot while I was between a high end boutique and a vending machine. I didn¡¯t have time to stop for food.

    Everything hurt. The woman¡¯s screams lingered. Other people milled around, some utterly vacant looking, others with the same urgent desperation I had. As if they expected to find a better deal in the twilight hour of this event.

    I remembered the stewardess¡¯s words. She said, ¡°There are benefits to waiting,¡± with a sinister grin.

    Still, being crippled and slow led to a half off sale, which made as much sense as anything in this strange place. Additionally, I had no clue what they were selling, or if one shop might be better than the other. Most of the better dressed locations had shut down, clearly out of business or emptied of their stock. The remaining few were worse than homeless shelters or dirty yard sales.

    Yet, I had no choice besides the terrible store on the left. The wall of darkness was too close. I hobbled over, grunting and wheezing with each step. As I passed, the stewardess trio tittered to each other. The little kids joined in a few seconds later, laughing mockingly.

    Post Note: If only I¡¯d known then what I know now. The children would live, but their fates were no kinder than mine¡ªonly different. My brother would pray to God, while I can only reconcile myself with the knowledge of my own limitations. They were beyond me, as had been the old woman, as so many others will be.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Good luck, stray Underwood,¡± one of the green eyed women said between laughs.

    ¡°You can do it!¡± A little girl cheered me on. The trio of sharp toothed women laughed even louder.

    A heavy door sat in my way. I stabbed at it with a crutch and leaned in, using the supporting item as a pry bar. It hurt, but everything did at this point. The door fought me with every inch. I took rapid shallow breaths.

    ¡°Go! Go, man, go!¡± they cheered in rough voices that sounded less human with each cheer. What¡¯s more, the tiny children¡¯s voices also distorted.

    The wall of darkness I¡¯d been staying ahead of, at least until this shopping mall style strip, passed by them. The children were still cheering as their forms faded away. They didn¡¯t scream. I did not understand what to make of such a fact.

    Onward approached the wall; creeping closer while shapes twisted around behind its solid barrier. I took one more deep breath and heaved on my crutch. The door popped open and my makeshift pry bar spun out of control. I fumbled after it then managed to get a foot in the door and crawled backward through it.

    I rocked with pain but kept quiet. My lip hurt from being bit. There were no more drugs left to flood through me. A rush hit my head as the world spun. Everything faded in and out. I struggled to keep moving but couldn¡¯t.

    ¡°No sleeping in my store!¡± a gruff voice shouted. ¡°Healing potions are twenty deers. If you accept, show me your card.¡±

    My eyes opened from a brief, but greatly desired slumber. Above me was a large mass of curly hair with bird feathers lodged in weird spots.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I responded and fumbled for my card. Each motion caused me to quiver uncontrollably. The man grunted, bent over, and farted, all in the same motion. Rough fingers grabbed my arm.

    ¡°Deal made.¡±

    Liquid fell on my head and body. Pain faded and I gasped. Itching took the place of the agony that should have put me down hours ago. I shook violently, twitching on the ground as whatever he doused me with changed. I huffed repeatedly and tugged at my shirt. There were no obvious wounds and even some of my scarring had been cleaned away.

    I sagged in confused relief and looked around. The store¡¯s inside was ragged. Pop-up tables were littered by dirty items. Pieces of junk lay in clumps and each one had a price tag in bright letters. What they meant, I didn¡¯t know. The letters were difficult to decipher. I stared at one hanging near my head until my thoughts fuzzed.

    Next was the door. I jerked to the side, causing myself to wince, and checked if the wall of darkness could come inside. It slid by calmly, covering the door¡¯s front with an evil red. The storefront stayed close. I winced as lingering but far less debilitating pain registered. My fingers were slick with blood but there was no sign of where I¡¯d been bleeding from.

    ¡°No more potions. I sold the last one to the gimp on the floor,¡± the same gruff voice from before rumbled.

    I felt around for the remaining crutch out of habit, found it, and slowly stood. It hurt far less than expected. My clothes were a sopping mess. Liquid dripped upon the floor, mixing blood, sweat, and whatever I¡¯d been doused with.

    ¡°What?¡± a thinner woman said. ¡°Fine. Sell me the other bundle of furs.¡±

    While they talked, I pulled off my shoe. The portion of my foot lost in the car wreck had changed. A huge chunk was still missing in action, but it¡¯d regrown slightly. That potion had undone damage I¡¯d thought to irreversible.

    I turned back to stare at the shop keeper.

    He had years on him. His beard was salted with gray but thick and long. He thin eyes flickered around the room, glaring at each person as if they were worthless. I got the impression that he didn¡¯t want to be involved in this nonsense, being whatever we were all part of.

    ¡°You done?¡± He burped at the woman.

    She tilted her nose up and nodded. Bundles of white furs were under her arms.

    ¡°Off you go then, wench. The exits right over there.¡± He snorted and scratched under an arm. He had no sleeves on his shirt, leaving us all with an unobstructed view of lice infested armpit hair.

    The woman¡¯s face drew back in revulsion, and she went, unhesitatingly, to the exit. I ignored my surroundings and established this had all been leading to a series of stores. Maybe there was more, I couldn¡¯t properly predict the reason for all this insanity. It couldn¡¯t be as simple as kidnapping a bunch of people, killing a ton of them, exchanging money to others then giving us prizes. But that made no goddamn sense either.

    As for the blue exit letters, that must have been the destination mentioned by those stewardesses at the beginning. This was my first chance to spend money and maybe the last since that wall of darkness blocked the doorway.

    I stumbled around, still putting weight on the crutch, and studied the tables of offerings. There were wrappers, broken clocks, mirrors, and broken hammers. Each item did something useful but what, exactly, couldn¡¯t be inferred. A mirror simply reflected people, at least in the normal world. But this was a place where dollar bills turned into ashes and vending machines devoured people who shook them. For all I knew a mirror here would trap my soul.

    My thoughts were still disoriented. The drugs were completely gone and lingering damage filled in the blank spaces. That healing liquid hadn¡¯t completely healed me, but it sure made a difference. I felt better than I had in months. Of course, that didn¡¯t account for the current strange fantasy land situation.

    I picked up three watches that reminded me of fake Rolexes. There were sixteen books with covers full of gibberish. Alien languages were merged with hieroglyphics and resulted in nonsense. Even the tags having prices on them had been an educated guess.

    ¡°I can¡¯t read these,¡± I admitted.

    The spot under my armpit reopened with too much pressure. A chill chased down my side with each drop of blood mixed sweat. Skin around the proprietor¡¯s eye sockets tightened and a cheek bunched in anger as my blood trickled onto the floor.

    ¡°I can¡¯t read these,¡± I repeated.

    ¡°Not my problem.¡± The old man grumped. He crossed thick arms over a larger chest and snorted loudly. ¡°Buy or don¡¯t. Then get out of my store. Take your bleeding somewhere else. You won¡¯t find bandages here. I don¡¯t deal with menders and I¡¯m out of healing potions. Besides, menders got no spines.¡±

    ¡°I want to buy stuff. I have money.¡±

    ¡°Sure you do,¡± he said.

    A creaking noise made me turn around again. I worried that the door might be opening or the wall encroaching. Instead, one of the two other people in the store that had been absentmindedly staring at a table, was bent over picking their junk up off the floor.

    No, I corrected myself, he was sobbing. The man wrung his hands together and rocked over a book binding with pages spilled everywhere.

    ¡°I need the pages,¡± he mumbled.

    ¡°Come on, man, buy or get out!¡± the shop owner bellowed. The man shook his head, grabbed all the pages, and exchanged his money for a broken half-book.

    It was sad.

    ¡°Want the book binding? Seventy five percent off. Or whatever you call a quarter. Stupid people can¡¯t make up their minds. Percentages, it¡¯s like you¡¯re damn Greeks. I hate Greeks.¡±

    Being healed by that odd liquid helped my mind put together pieces. Being safe from the wall of darkness helped as well. The biggest issue left was making the best of this situation. I suspected the door nearby was one way and that we¡¯d never get deals like this again. Sadly, I had been left with a terrible pile of leftovers.

    ¡°I¡¯m not Greek. I have money, but I don¡¯t know what to buy.¡± I rubbed my face and checked the knick knacks on the table. Each item resembled garbage from a landfill. ¡°How much does an explanation cost?¡±

    He smiled. It was disgusting. I refuse to describe more.

    ¡°An explanation of what?¡±

    ¡°The rules. There¡¯s always rules,¡± I said with false certainty. ¡°There has to be something.¡±

    ¡°Ten deers,¡± he responded.

    We agreed, he touched the debit card, and my number on it¡¯s lettering dropped accordingly.

    ¡°There are rules. And the price is higher than you can afford. Pay attention and practice, maybe you¡¯ll learn some of them.¡± The man¡¯s face brightened and his eyes grew larger, but stayed pitch black. ¡°Maybe you¡¯ll be the one to learn them all! The secret king! Ha.¡±

    ¡°How about the items?¡±

    ¡°Bah.¡± He grumped and both cheeks lifted until they seemed to be the only feature left. I took a breath and struggled not to gape at the distorted face. ¡°You tell me what you want. I¡¯ll tell you what you need.¡±

    ¡°I need to survive whatever happens next.¡±

    He paused, glanced up and down then started laughing louder and ruder than a gaggle of children and three stewardesses had managed. He strode around the room and picked up a broken mirror, a necklace with a chipped dagger decoration, and a pile of goo in a box. It all looked like trash. He yanked away my crutch and slammed it onto the table top.

    I gasped then quickly propped myself up. He¡¯d taken my support after I¡¯d asked for something to survive.

    ¡°That¡¯s two hundred for the changeling orb, three fifty for the star mirror, and another two hundred for the knife point pendant. Plus an assembly fee of sixty. ¡±

    ¡°What about the sale?¡±

    ¡°That is the sale. Last girl in her, spent eighteen hundred for less. Supply and demand. No more demand. So you get a deal. The best package for the last man standing.¡± His face brightened and nubby eyes rose. The man¡¯s belly jiggled wildly as he laughed.

    ¡°Why my crutch? Why didn¡¯t you use a glove?¡±

    ¡°Mortals.¡± He spit on the ground. I studied the pile of items. He scratched his dry scalp. ¡°Blood bound iron can add properties to the craft. Personalize it. Plus it makes it easier. Them other, ladies, hate iron, but not me. I love the stuff. It¡¯s hard to find otherwise I¡¯d haggle more. Plus shop¡¯s closing in five of those minute things.¡±

    I blinked, and pulled my jacket pocket out to look at the card again. There was enough to pay for those items, but I had no idea what assembling did, or anything else. Too many different aspects to this entire nightmare made no sense. Five minutes to reach the exit gave me little room to argue.

    He could be raking me over the coals. He could be lying about the price. My face tensed and shoulders bunched. Lingering pain, resurfacing after the potion, threatened to drag me down. Muscles in my stomach bound tightly.

    ¡°Deal,¡± I said and licked dry lips. He rubbed finger and thumb together and I took the hint by pulling out my card. Soon I was down to thirty two dollars.

    The man grunted. He opened the empty binding and put in the changeling orb. The book closed and light flared. This same action was repeated with every single item. Sweat dripped down the man¡¯s face.

    There were no clocks to tell me how long it took. Whatever he was doing added pages to the book. None of that made sense. He moved onto the crutch next, folding it into the book somehow. His shoulders tensed and the man grunted like a mating pig.

    My crutch¡¯s soft pads were tossed to the side. He picked up the book and picked his nose with the free hand.

    ¡°Here you go.¡± He handed over the book, which had completely transformed from its earlier sad appearance. It looked, clean. Cleaner than the entire store. Clearer than a toilet after my father made me clean it three times.

    In my hands was a smooth polished mirror topped book which reflected only darkness. The pages inside were reflective as well. They had the same dark sheen as the cover. I tilted it around but nothing made sense.

    ¡°One minute until closing. Then you won¡¯t want to be here. Not skinned in that. Unless you¡¯re planning on taking the easy way out. That¡¯d be a damn shame after all the work I put in.¡±

    He hadn¡¯t done a damned thing other than touch the objects to each other and disgustingly grunt. Folding the crutch into chunks had be impressive and the laws of physics clearly were being abused, but that fit perfectly fine with this strange world.

    Still, my hands shook from hunger and thirst. Pain in my bladder echoed wildly, threatening to let loose here on the floor. I couldn¡¯t handle all these problems anymore and no longer had either crutch. Everything about this situation felt alien. It was time to escape or find a hole to hide in.

    ¡°Thank you. I think.¡±

    ¡°Bah. You¡¯re lucky you thanked an Underkin and not one of the Wildchilds. Else you¡¯d owe me more than a favor.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said. His words made no sense.

    ¡°Good. You¡¯re not too stupid. Keep paying attention. Now, take a business card, and take your sadly hairless chin out of here.¡± He waved me toward the exit.

    Three wet cards were on the counter. I tucked one into my pocket with the debt card. I spared the short man one more glance. He snorted and wrinkled his large nose. A grin split his face, but his teeth were flat. Black eyes, flat teeth; green and yellow eyes, sharp teeth. Different hair styles. Nothing about this madness made sense.

    With the small book in hand, I stumbled through the exit and prayed to God that I wouldn¡¯t end up screaming. There¡¯s nothing like stepping into the unknown to bring out fading faith.

 Book 1, Rule 6

    Rule 6

    Beware Long Walks & Baby Orcs Love Bush

    Statement: Time had passed. Lots of time. More than I ever expected. On the ride home the storm overhead cast down lightning. In bouts of brief illumination a country side, the city, and finally my neighborhood had clearly changed. I did not start questioning this until a few days later. Why?

    At first I believed this all to be a dream. It might still be. Yet, the entire event had been just familiar enough to make sense. Human seeming bus drivers. Human seeming store owners. Machines that resembled those from school. It was carefully designed, like a badly painted stage would represent some storyland. But unlike a theater event, this one kept right on going after the curtain close.

    There was another line which led up to a smaller bus. This hardly surprised me. I tucked the book into an inside pocket and limped into the much tinier group of people. We hadn¡¯t all made it, but part of me hoped others had left on earlier rides home. Perhaps this single story tiny bus, which looked like my county supplied door-to-door service, served as a final take home.

    The driver was not Leon or one of the green-eyed stewardesses. A large fat balding woman with a cigar thumbed me on. I limped back to a seat, feeling slightly better but still hungry. Twisting knots in my gut suppressed all other pains. There was no time for a bathroom.

    I felt thankful that my desire to eat had dropped since the accident. One water bottle of water should be survivable for the bus trip. My vision shifted in and out of focus. My current goal was to go, wherever this bus went. Then once I landed it would be possible to evaluate how to survive.

    Staying compartmentalized was not easy. My body shook and arms were unsteady. The only reassuring factor was a return to my town. I recognized the city. Distance between where we¡¯d been and my hometown was too short. California had a lot of towns and a few major places that could have housed that stadium-sized shopping mall.

    Everything felt almost normal. A storm boiled overhead, rain poured down in thick waves, and lightning flashes illuminated an almost normal looking town. Bright lights along the street helped me feel comfortable. Signs were in the right spots.

    The words were illegible through the water. I attempted to read them over and over to distract myself from stomach issues. The supermarket was lit up, but it looked less white and more yellow. It might have been a late night casting of the lights.

    I suspected it wasn¡¯t. This world was no more normal than the long line and vending machines. Or the barely human-looking stewardesses. There had been many slightly off items. Word choice, features, each one nagged me for attention. Debt cards, Wildlings, Underkin, Secret King, whatever the heck all those things meant was beyond me.

    ¡°Those who wander are losers¡± and ¡°We¡¯ve got great prizes.¡± They called dollars by the wrong name. That fat store owner had called them deers. If I operated under the premise that all these people were speaking English as a second language, it vaguely made sense.

    The trip home, returning to a more familiar setting, helped. I closed my eyes constantly and strained muscles to control my bladder. At times I¡¯d doze off completely, as if I¡¯d been awake for endless hours and only now been given a chance to sleep.

    When I dreamed, I imagined blissful quiet. That did not last. A deep darkness swallowed me whole and muscles tightened. Something tried to pull my head off. They pulled my leg. I tensed, and flailed against it. Someone screamed, and another person laughed wildly.

    My leg popped off, and a new one grew behind it. I snorted. The attempt at ripping me apart was useless. Legs, arms, even eyeballs. Something yanked all of them, and I simply grew another. The other person was no longer laughing, instead I bubbled over with mirth. I¡¯d survive this. I¡¯d survived being hit by another car. I¡¯d survive it all.

    The attacks grew more brutal. My regeneration continued. It itched, pulled, and twisted new body parts into place. Each time they grew back wrong. They were less normal. Skin tone changed. What I saw changed.

    Then in the dream, I thought it would be funny to attack the other person back, instead of simply laughing at their inability to rend me apart. Catharsis felt good.

    Post Note: In the dream, and this was a dream, I showed the other person how it was done. Our roles were truly reversed. I was the render, and that other person the one being rent. I laughed cruelly and they screamed. I woke, afraid of myself. I¡¯ll say no more on the depths of that darkness.

    A horn honked loudly. I jerked awake. Sweat dripped from my face and pooled uncomfortably around my groin. Drool trickled down my chin and part of me had been excited. My clothes smelled exactly as a damp dog.

    The woman covered by boils grumped. ¡°Get off.¡±

    No one else but me was on the bus. I couldn¡¯t remember anyone else getting off. None of the other passenger¡¯s faces had stuck with me. Dozens of us had gotten on, but I was either the last one to get home, or the only one to survive.

    A foul smell of fat people odor hung around the bus driver. Her eyes darted uneasily. The walking cane in her hands dripped with green ooze. She reached out to poke me with it and I smacked it away. Gross liquid smeared across my hand and the seat side.

    ¡°Get off.¡±

    ¡°All right.¡±

    The bus had parked outside a convenience store on the corner. My house was four blocks away. Normally I¡¯d complain but the woman¡¯s smell worsened the longer I sat still. Sweat, flour, and an open sewer scent all mixed together. I fled the bus while the woman with no hair on her head hacked wetly.

    The lines of parking lot paint were still wet. I gave the store a once over and couldn¡¯t bring myself to step inside. The lights in there were dim and the open sign unlit. It felt wrong, but everything did.

    My ride home peeled out wildly. I hobbled to the sidewalk, stepping in fresh paint, and covered my face with a hand. The vehicle spun around in place, gained traction, ran over three bushes and tore off down the empty road. I made it to the corner, glanced around and released my bladder over wild shrubs.

    I shook in relief and zipped back up. My body still hurt, mostly at the hips and a hungry stomach. Home would take only a few minutes to reach. It might be different, but it might be the same. There¡¯d be bread, jelly, and peanut butter. A sandwich would be welcome. Medication could take care of the remaining pain while I figured out what to do.

    Three blocks from home, I realized that all the cars were in new positions. Someone had piled them up along the road like a barricade between two houses. It was dark and the street lamps overhead didn¡¯t light up enough. They were dimmer than I remembered.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    Rain pelted me. My footsteps were dim and socks soaked through. Puddles lined the roadside. There were excessive cracks in the cement. Roots and grass poked through. People¡¯s untamed lawns swallowed the sidewalk.

    I shuffled faster. The neighborhood worried me. Darkness covered up too many secrets. A few other houses were lit. Inhuman shadows moved inside.

    Two blocks from home, a corner house flared with light. An angry laugh echoed through the open door. The door hung, partially off its hinges. The brightness faded. I tried to pick up the speed but my body tensed.

    One measly block from home and a short creature dove out of the bushes. I pulled back. A second thing charged out after it. The more human-shaped creature had a broken fence post in its hands. Two huge tusks dripping with fur and gore protruded from its mouth.

    It resembled a half-sized orc from some fantasy movie. Only it wasn¡¯t on a television or video game, it was in front of me. It was chasing something that ran like a chicken but looked like a rabbit with short ears. Both of them bolted across the road.

    ¡°Meat! Meat, meat, meat, meat,¡± the mini-orc shouted while running after the rabbit, or chicken.

    Speculation: I had gone insane. This was an advanced hallucination and I¡¯d simply gone on a trip to get prescription refills. All of the store¡¯s goods were perfectly aligned with everyday normal items.

    I held very, very still. The mini-orc did not show the slightest amount of caring for me. I thought it may be a little person chasing after a loose dog, except for the large stick in its hands. It ran, swinging the piece of fence repeatedly.

    My groin tightened and butt clenched. I tried to tell myself that had simply been a delusion. The mini monster shouted. There was a disgusting wet crunch of noise. I broke and moved quicker than I had in months, straight for home.

    I worried that no place else would be safe. Maybe there were monsters inside my home. Something had moved my wheelchair and closed the door, and it no longer made sense that wind could do such a thing.

    Two houses away, I noticed one of the neighbors¡¯ homes had been completely crushed. The ceiling line that normally stood out against a low moon had clearly been smashed in the middle. I hoped it was a trick of the overcast night.

    One house away.

    ¡°Eat, eat!¡± something nearby chanted. Three other voices also shouted the same words. A cracking sound came from the neighbor¡¯s wooden fence. Shadows waved, lit by God knew what.

    ¡°Eat!¡± the creatures grunted in badly timed unison.

    My foot caught on something in an overgrown lawn. Down I went. My tired body barely registered the shift and I landed on my elbows. Shock rippled through and jolted my shoulders. The book in my jacket pocket pressed against multiple ribs. I gasped.

    Voices chorused behind me, ¡°Eat! Meat. Eat. Meat.¡±

    I kicked and pushed myself toward the walkway. Asphalt tore at my pants. My body twisted and turned as sticks slammed into my calves. I crawled the entire way up the sidewalk, over grass, and to the doorstep. The doorknob refused to turn. The house had been locked.

    ¡°Eat!¡±

    I froze with my hand behind me on the doorknob. I turned to kick one of the creatures back. They chattered madly. Dozens were there, chanting, and banging objects stolen from people¡¯s backyards. Their uneven teeth and long tusks waved around. One held a lantern that cast dancing light across the yard.

    A dead man¡¯s body sat in the middle of them. Its arm reached out awkwardly toward the door. There were signs of it being picked at by scavengers. This was the end. I closed my eyes and swallowed.

    Something on top of dad¡¯s house growled. The creatures jerked their heads up in unison. They eyed the roof, backing up and bobbing.

    ¡°Retreat!¡± the one with the lantern shouted. He, or she, waved it. The creatures scattered and fled down the street like a badly formed pack of children.

    I stood slowly. The knob under my hand felt warm. There was a click, and the door opened. A few minutes passed as I stood there shaking. Images of the inside of my house, before getting on that bus, flashed through my head. There had been a lot of creepy factors that I¡¯d simply ignored.

    A note was pinned on the door; covered by a plastic bag but condensation had caused the ink to fade. I stepped inside toward a lone light sitting on the kitchen table. It danced, as if flame was instead a small captive creature. Shaking assaulted me as I read the waterlogged letter.

    Son,

    I hope this reaches you and that you¡¯re safe. I¡¯ve bargained with an unnamed being. We¡¯ve reached an accord to keep the house protected for three days after you arrival.

    Asking questions will void the contract. Stay out of my room. Stay out of the attic. Keep quiet if you can. The, contracted being, detests loud noise.

    I saw you in line, far, far behind me. I pray you reached the end. Learn the basics of whatever you earned quickly then venture to the government building downtown.

    If you truly did survive, if you continue to survive, we¡¯ll meet again. Be sure of that. Faith will keep you strong. Strength is all that matters, or we¡¯ll be sheep among wolves.

    Dad

    I asked myself a hundred malformed questions. None of them came with easy answers. My brother mentioned dad was on his way home before this whole event. It was possible he¡¯d been kidnapped to this other place. The march of millions could have started days, or weeks, before my own boarding of the bus.

    Post Note: I still do not know. I will find out. I will find the truth. But what should I do once I learn the truth? What can I do? A changeling¡¯s gift, a blade of night, a star runed board¡ªall partially broken. These gifts pale compared to others. But unlike some, I still survive.

    The promise of safety might be a lie. It didn¡¯t matter. I was too hungry and needed a place to rest. Both were beyond important. I staggered to the kitchen, found a piece of bread and beer, and promptly devoured both. The beer might have been a poor choice but there were no other bottled objects inside my home. The faucet had a bit of water but that might be only what remained in the basin.

    Plus, alcohol had a secondary effect. It helped me pass out that much quicker. I was drowsy going to my room. There were blankets in a closet, the clothes were layered with dust. They stayed in the closest. I closed the curtains and pushed my dresser in front of the window. A fuzzy haze peeked out from behind the curtain. I worried there might be a creature on the roof who¡¯d dare crawl in my window and kill me before that guardian took action.

    I pushed my desk in front of the door. The dancing light from my kitchen table danced, sending alien shadows around the room. Home no longer felt safe. But I was too tired, and my stomach hurt from the slice of bread, to the point of nausea. I hadn¡¯t eaten anything real in too long.

    Then, once again, I slept. This time I dreamed of nothing.

    In the morning my eyes opened, and I prayed it had all been a dream.

    The window was boarded still. My bedroom door stayed closed with a table pressed against it. Clothes in the closet hung, grayed by a thin layer of dust. My fingerprints were on the desk, and bed warm from body heat. I stayed there, shivering violently and tried to understand.

    Post Note: I¡¯ll spare you the details. In truth, I could no longer compartmentalize what had happened. Of my three allowed days, I spent most of the first experiencing a nervous breakdown. All questions of this new world were shoved into a box and ignored. I exited the room only for food, water, and a bath¡ªwhich involved me, a washcloth, and a bar of soap. It was pathetic.

    Three days dwindled rapidly to two. Or, I assumed it did. The actual time escaped me since zero clocks worked and the sky barely brightened. At times, rays of sunlight shone through. I felt better and worse after having a most of a day to break down quietly.

    By midday, I felt brave enough to wander around the house. Somehow the home, as light outside dimmed, felt less foreign. Darkness made the world harder to see. It was easier to lie to myself about the horrors outside.

    I closed the blinds on every window of the house. The doors were all double-checked. There were no signs of anything missing or changed to the home¡¯s belongings.

    First, I established edible food. Items in the fridge were oddly okay, despite the lack of electricity. I ate more because my stomach kept rumbling. The pain from my trip had mostly faded. Even my hip felt better. Sleep might have done it, or food, or simply moving.

    My phone didn¡¯t turn on. I shook it, cracked open the back, and sand trickled out. The device couldn¡¯t operate without a battery. The television, microwave, and vibrating chair all failed to do anything. Even the red light for power refused to flicker. Electricity should still work unless we¡¯d lost a power plant. Lightning flashed occasionally outside. The laws of physics were being violated and I wasn¡¯t smart enough to figure out anything beyond that.

    Once again I found myself in front of the window, sitting my wheelchair. It wasn¡¯t even that I needed the device anymore, I walked without pain. It served as a glorified moving chair which allowed me to observe the outdoors. Monsters prowled the street but none dared get too close to my home. The world I¡¯d known was different. That included me.

    Richard and his entire family might be dead and gone. Dad, hopefully my dad, might still be downtown. He and others might be different as well. The possibilities were so far outside my scope it was impossible to know for sure.

    I munched more food from the cabinets and ran water from the sink. Hunger had been solved. My purchased items must be able to help me survive. I had three days to learn how to use this fancy journal, find better food, and figure out how to handle those small tusked creatures roaming the streets.

    Then there would be dealing with other survivors. I couldn¡¯t decide which would be worse.

 Book 1, Rule 7

    Rule 7

    Use Time Wisely & Be Careful Outside

    Statement: How does one test the unknown? Can it fit into a bottle? Can we shake it around and add substances to see how it reacts? I believe that there must be rules to this new place. I say this because; why would anything, anyone, or any dream, feature a no-rules universe? It¡¯s too much for the human mind to handle if we¡¯re not provided a framework.

    The stewardesses looked like familiar employees with a slightly foreign nature. The vending machines, money cards, and shopping stores were all within a comfortable range of ¡®normal.¡¯ Whatever, or whomever, is in charge of this situation wants us to understand what is happening. That implies relatable logic. I hope¡­

    It was time to establish rules to this new world. Pens still worked, so I took time to write down my goals. They were broken into four major needs.

    <ol>

    <li> Find resources such as food, lighters, and maybe try to make Molotov cocktails. I had never done anything remotely close to that.</li>

    <li> Figure out if I had gained some sort of power, or could use the book to do something extraordinary. This was paramount to survival.</li>

    <li> Figure out the monsters outside and if it were possible or necessary to kill them. This felt impossible since I¡¯d never killed outside of video games, on the few occasions I played anything but sports based ones.</li>

    <li> Reach my dad, if it was my dad. This might be completed without the first few parts but would be much harder.</li>

    </ol>

    This had to be completed in the time remaining. The list of tasks to complete did not strike me as feasible. It seemed downright impossible.

    Post Note: It feels strange to talk about this in hindsight. It always does. Was I really an emotionless robot? I¡¯ve reread the earlier parts to this journal, and can only conclude that I¡¯d been broken somehow, and gone downhill.

    My legs felt great. I attributed it to the healing potion splashed over me and a night¡¯s sleep. Real food and being home helped. Having space to breakdown also helped. The pills in my room stayed firmly in their bottle, though I intended to bring them with me in case events got bad.

    I added another note to my list, marking down to check neighboring houses eventually. They might have medical supplies, liquor, and food. There had to be survivors out there who¡¯d welcome supplies to trade for other necessary items. Pain killers were always huge in those zombie fictions. Though I couldn¡¯t rightly say what else had gone wrong.

    For all I knew, the store at the corner could be full of monsters. It could have also been a safe zone with other survivors. All these places nearby could have been ransacked.

    For a third time I checked my list, only to notice something new. The words were illegible. I remembered writing them in perfect, if a bit shaky, English. Now, they were closer to Sanskrit mixed with Greek symbols.

    Post Note: It makes me wonder if anyone can even read this. If not, what is the point?

    ¡°Goddammit,¡± I muttered.

    Something on the roof growled. I tensed my neck and mentally cursed. The house guardian my dad arranged disliked any words out of my mouth. At least I¡¯d had months of practice talking to no one. Without a working phone there were no people to talk to.

    Chills raced down my spine and made me shiver. Small pockets of water formed around my eyes. I blinked them back while promising myself to go to Richard¡¯s house. I scribbled that into the line underneath visiting the government center downtown. My gibberish list kept growing and nothing could be crossed off.

    I crept around the house checking my food. There were enough supplies to last a few weeks, or that¡¯s what I thought at first. My stomach growled constantly and I kept right on eating throughout the first and second day. Nothing, other than being a recovered individual in my late teens, explained a sudden increase in appetite. Notes were scribbled down next to the food section. Even if they were illegible, simply noting them helped solidify the findings.

    At this rate, I¡¯d run out of meals sooner than expected. Lasting three days would be simple, stretching supplies a week would be harder.

    The supplies bullet point, at least, where I remembered writing it, got my scribbles. I retrieved more snacks and sat down with my book at the front window. A small crack let me see through the blinds and study the patrolling monsters. Even now, those weird orc creatures walked through the night in packs of five or more. Each group, or maybe it was the same one doing laps, had a leader with this big glowing lantern. It functioned exactly like the one in my bedroom.

    They attacked everything that moved. Including those weird bunny chicken creatures¡ªwhich were extremely numerous. They roamed through the front yard eating flower bushes that my dad had planted. Orcs, or goblins, or tiny angry deformed little people, would charge after the rabbits.

    There were dozens of questions about the book, and zero answers. I hadn¡¯t seen another human outside and home was completely cut off from communication. Truthfully, I might have killed someone to get functional internet during this crisis.

    I rubbed the book¡¯s cover slowly. A smooth pane, unmarred by the earlier fall, greeted my fingertips. Even in the dim light of my lantern, the cover stayed dull. Each page inside was a thin replica of the cover. No matter which way I tilted them, they did nothing. I¡¯d spent all that imaginary money and received a dud.

    There were only eight thick pages in the small book. It was around eight inches long.

    Post Note: In my defense, these were my first thoughts. I blame it on living through a crazy land. I¡¯d also blame my parents but that seems disrespectful given... well, this is a faerie tale with older rules. Not everything is happy.

    Two hours of the night proved fruitless. The book did not react to light from my lantern, bread, cheese, being licked, or fervent silent prayers. I tried hair shavings, holding it front of a mirror, and sleeping on the cover. Those attempts at triggering anything failed. Putting books inside the book did nothing.

    It was the last effort, pulling out books, that bothered me. I held a Bible, courtesy of my parents, under the lantern light. It was then I realized that the lantern did not have a light, there was indeed a small creature inside of it¡ªand that the words of the Bible were also not in English. They weren¡¯t in any letters that made sense.

    I studied the passages to search for regions I remembered. If I could figure out basic words or letters it might be possible to create a Rosetta Stone style tool. That is, something to reference for translation until the languages made more sense. I¡¯d never attempted such a task, but history class taught me that it should be possible to infer portions of a new script by having a comparison.

    After three hours, nothing else was making sense and issues like the funky words would take more than three days to solve. I gave up and went back to the book I¡¯d gotten from the fat bearded fellow. He could have been a dwarf. Such a ¡®magical¡¯ race fit well with the mini-orc creatures patrolling the streets. I checked them, yet again.

    At this point, the little monsters gathered on the front lawn. Ten of them stood there shuffling awkwardly and waved their makeshift weapons. Two had broken shovels, three had rakes. One carried a shotgun that hopefully didn¡¯t work.

    ¡°Meat! Eat! Eat meat. Meet meat to eat!¡± They all cheered at the last statement, as if using the word ¡®to¡¯ qualified the lantern-bearing mini-orc as a genius. He probably was smarter but the bar clearly hadn¡¯t been set that high.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    Another one pulled up a large set of blankets. He, or she, huffed with effort. Others in the squad of invaders ran to the bedding and helped haul it up. Rocks and sticks, barely visible under the strange streetlights, were clumped in the makeshift carriage.

    Post Note: I remember wondering why they were too stupid to use a wheelbarrow. Even children knew better. But then I eyed the shotgun wielding one and felt thankful they were that dumb.

    I hung in the corner of my front room, peeking out the window. The book pressed tightly to my chest and I wished I¡¯d pulled out better weapons from the garage. The mini-mob moved quickly. A set stood in front, wielding their weapons while the rest loaded up with projectiles from the sheets.

    The first volley went wide. A second round of thrown building parts cracked glass and banged against the wall. The creature on the roof growled, loudly. My legs locked and arms tightened as the building shook.

    ¡°Defeat!¡± the leader shouted. He waved his lantern.

    A huge gray beast the size of a horse leapt off our roof, into the pile of mini-orcs. They scattered. The monster turned and chomped an attacker. An arm and two feet were left, blood sprayed, and slick wetness tinted the ground.

    ¡°Beat!¡± their leader shouted. He waved it again and sparks flew. Fire flared to life, turning the blood spatter into a bonfire. ¡°Beat, eat!¡±

    Additional light only served to increase the gore. Gray saggy skin and large wings adorned the large monster¡¯s frame. It leapt to another foe and bit off an arm. The lantern waving leader snarled and lifted his other arm. Fire curled off the lawn into a solid ball.

    Tingles crawled around my scalp. I shivered. The backdoor cracked loud enough that I could hear it two rooms away, over the sound of creatures on the lawn fighting, over the roar of fire moving at the mini-orc¡¯s bidding.

    I needed to defend myself, or barricade myself somewhere. All that effort with the windows, and I¡¯d forgotten to actually do more than lock the doors. It was silly how much stock I placed in a deadbolt on flimsy framing. That thing from the roof might turn for me next.

    The back entrance was through the kitchen, and past the washing machine. There were brooms and shovels near the door. The mini-orcs, stupid though they were, had enough brains to use weapons. I¡¯d spent too long sulking and had not considered self-defense. My dad¡¯s note lulled me into believing I¡¯d be safe until the time limit.

    A zombie outbreak would have been easier to survive. I¡¯d seen movies for those. Television shows did not explain how to survive a world where nothing made sense. They didn¡¯t explain the inner turmoil shifting through new situations would cause. If anything, the internet taught me to expect death. I did not intend to be one of the many casualties of whatever this was.

    Delusions of grandeur kept me moving. I grabbed the rectangle trashcan lid and fancied it an effective shield. One of the kitchen knives served as my short sword. The creatures were dumb enough and would flee in terror before my well-equipped majesty.

    Post Note: If this sounds self-deprecating, know that it is. A trash can lid is only effective against idiots, and they make poor discs for throwing.

    The back door was broken in two. Its bottom half splintered and one of the small creatures reached up to unlock the door. I panicked and threw the blade. It sank into the creature¡¯s shoulder.

    Its head whipped around, and a tusk got caught into the door. ¡°Cheat!¡± it yelled and banged the door knob. Other creatures were pressing to get in. One¡¯s legs bobbed in the tiny opening.

    The house shuddered. I turned to grab a new weapon and noticed a crack along one of the walls. Powder flaked from the roof. Another sharp noise came from the door. I turned with a shovel as the lead thing lunged for me with a stick.

    It jabbed my leg. I yelled. A roar came from the front yard, much like an angry dog but a dozen times meaner.

    ¡°Beat!¡± the mini-orc shouted and snarled. Slobber lined a tusk and blood flicked to the wall as it jerked in agitation. He grabbed the knife and tossed it back at me. I dodged to the side and fell over the dryer.

    Too many were coming through for my liking. Home would soon be overrun by angry monosyllabic midgets, and I felt sure dad would disapprove. I grabbed a shovel and turned to badly jab it. My shoulder screamed with the sudden motion causing me to twist.

    The first one dodged to the side but my shovel¡¯s tip still carried into it. His face tore and skull carved apart like putty. I lost my balance. The second one dove at me with its fence post lifted overhead. A third charged behind it, but got its weapon stuck in the doorway.

    My grip on the shovel faltered. It refused to pull out of the hopefully dead creature¡¯s skull. I fumbled for the knife. It spun around and the second mini-orc banged on my leg. His other arm grabbed my pants, pulling me back with a surprising level of strength.

    I had to be quicker than he was. A strange crunch made my muscles cry out in pain. I twisted to stab the monster trying to mount me. The knife almost escaped my grasp.

    He gargled when my blade drove into his neck. Blood spurt from the wound. An arm limply banged into my stomach. Sharp nails tore thin tracks of agony across my side. My head pounded and body felt full, tight, almost bursting.

    ¡°Die!¡± I spoke while shaking the kitchen knife back and forth.

    Something rumbled the walls.

    The third tiny foe pointed behind me and shouted, ¡°Retreat!¡±

    It dropped the weapon and hauled its jacket clad rear out of the laundry room. Exhaustion struck me as the remaining enemy fled. I fell to my knees and leaned forward.

    My knife felt freakishly cold, enough to numb my fingers. Trails across my skin lifted with goosebumps. Those burned and tingled. One leg jerked violently, shaking me out of the momentary daze. I sat up slowly.

    The garage connected to the laundry room. A large face hung in the doorway, visible but darker than expected. I backed up while stammering. The garbage can shield which I¡¯d lost track of while searching for a second weapon, tripped me and I fell onto my rear.

    A monster sat halfway in the garage. Darkness behind it meant the door had stayed down. The huge beast¡¯s eyes were almost six feet off the ground.

    My mind blanked and mouth hung open. Two deceased foes lay on either side of me but they were pathetic compared to this monster. It was huge. It cared not for walls. Its mouth had bitten those creatures outside in two. I¡¯d been able to ignore it before because it was remote. A thin sheet of glass protected me from the realism of having it breathe on me.

    But now the smell was unobstructed. God, the smell of putrid guts that hung from its giant teeth was enough to drive a man insane. In my case, it turned calm detachment into gibbering madness. I panicked, waved the knife, and failed to utter a single comprehensible word.

    Every word I stammered caused the creature to twitch. Large ears twisted toward me while its eyes narrowed into glowing red slits that burned the air. It judged me, in the way only God should have been able to. The rush and pride at defeating two monsters was replaced with cowering fear.

    Post Note: I wish I could say I¡¯d straightened my legs and stood tall against it. I wish I could say I stabbed it with a knife. Realistically, that creature was, and still is as of this postscript¡ªfar out of my league. One day perhaps. But I am no warrior. I am a different sort of creature.

    It snorted and shook its head like a horse disagreeing with someone. The creature turned away. Somehow its face ignored the wall as if the obstruction was mist. I stammered. A growl crawled through the house.

    I stared blankly. That creature, that absurdly large monstrosity made of teeth and wings, was the protection provided by a man calling himself ¡®dad.¡¯ It qualified as frightening but adequate protection.

    The mini-orc creatures were vanishing. I stared blankly as the first one faded, leaving behind a small glowing orb. I reached for it, but it raced off through a wall toward the front room. My second victim collapsed in the same manner.

    I couldn¡¯t focus. My arms shook. Nothing made sense. The ugly monsters were dissolving into, I don¡¯t know what. Energy, an orb, or back into dreamland where they¡¯d spawned from. My feet moved independently of the screaming in my brain. I followed the last one, quietly. Each movement brought a new round of aches and numbness tingles.

    My head jerked as I realized the knife in my hand was no longer drenched in gore. That concern was replaced as I took note of new items in the front room. On the desk where I¡¯d foolishly left my book, sat two lanterns. The one from my room danced happily, a normal dull yellow color that reminded me of a light bulb. Its companion was a dense red that made me recall the one held by the mini-orc leader.

    Post Note: A more video game inclined person might have called them goblins. Honestly, at this point of my life, I¡¯d been moping about indoors and avoiding people. Before that I¡¯d been trying to be social, go outside, handle college courses about boring history. Video games were great, but I preferred football or baseball over fantasy.

    The second lantern flashed. I shuffled falteringly toward it, hoping that somehow the item would create fires for me. My goal wasn¡¯t to set the house ablaze, but fireballs, or whatever they were, would certainly help me survive.

    Instead, when I touched it, the device flickered twice. Similar to how a candle would blink before puffing out. The mirror covered book brightened as the red light condensed. Finally the red turned into a near perfect orb that blurred in the darkness, then that ball flew into the book¡¯s pages.

    I stared at the book and contemplated feeding it another lantern but wasn¡¯t sure how I¡¯d be able to see at night. I had a new question to add to the list.

    ¡°How¡ª¡±

    I¡¯d almost asked aloud how I could fight those three small creatures in the dark. My light had been in the front room and very little light could make it two rooms away. Yet, I¡¯d seen the enemy with ease. Or at least, saw them well enough to fight with questionable effectiveness.

    The creature in the attic growled quietly. Apparently it had returned to rooftop watching after the battle. I also questioned how exactly this red fireball caster had arrived from outside, but with a large winged creature who could walk through walls¡ªthe answer felt obvious.

    On the front of the book a single spec of light gleamed in an otherwise dull surface. It had changed. Somehow the orbs made a difference, or the sacrificed lantern. I speculated that it had absorbed them as it did the changeling orb, knife pendant, and my ¡®bloodied crutch.¡¯ I opened the book slowly.

    Inside, one page had brightened considerably. My fingers brushed across the lit page. Light pooled, as if the brightness were simply a liquid to gather. The rest of the page and my heart jumped. I almost dove for the bathroom to down some pills. Instead, I paused upon noticing a change. On each finger of my right hand, gathered light glowed. The illumination trailed after my digits as I waved it around.

    There were no words to properly explain what I felt. No, there were two. I felt hopeful, and amazed. This mirror would be key in my desire to survive.

 Book 1, Rule 8

    Statement: Magic, as a concept, is an utterly foreign device and wholly unlike ¡®Wiccan¡¯ books state. In modern times, prior to ¡®The Event¡¯ magic was the realm of charlatans, dreamers, the delusional, and maybe, somewhere¡ªa few souls who were related to our kidnappers. But teaching a modern person with no hint of a gift how to perform a spell is like telling someone prayer makes them fly if they simply believe.

    I say this because both magic and prayer¡ªto those with no power¡ªare oft unseen and unfelt forces. That is to say, people imagine the results. However, in the wake of ¡®The Event¡¯; I can no longer deny that both have an impact on our lives. Thus my point. The converse to above is true, having a gift without being taught is like believing you can fly with enough prayer. I spent hours¡ªliterally hours¡ªto simply figure out one crude ¡®spell.¡¯

    The creature in my attic didn¡¯t care, at all, about objects moving around. Apparently the sound of my voice was the only thing to set it on edge, and having rocks thrown at the house by invaders. I blocked the front window and stuck a wooden chair under the doorknob.

    Barring the back door might deny me an escape after the remaining protection period. So, I spent time reinforcing the fence with tables and chairs from inside the house. There were holes along the ground, and if I sat still long enough, one of those rabbit chicken creatures would burrow through for a visit. They apparently loved dad¡¯s rose bushes.

    Half a dozen mini-orc creatures poked their noses into my backyard while I worked. Each one went down with a single swing of the shovel. They were like violent and extremely weak dogs. They consistently collapsed into energy orbs, dropping their clothes, weapons, and vanished into the book.

    As for the spell book, or whatever it was, I felt like I¡¯d spent my time on the verge of a breakthrough, only to be denied an epiphany. All that remained was frustration as the glowing effect faded from my fingertips. The spells, or whatever magic the book performed, eluded me.

    Seven hours had passed, in which I managed to completely rearrange the house. At the end of my productivity spree I sat at the back door¡¯s small concrete landing and contemplated what I¡¯d learned. I dipped my fingers into the pages once more and brought it up.

    The situation bugged me. Specifically; the light, vanishing bodies, and even my debt card handed out by the stewardesses. Every ounce of this whole mess threatened to drive me batty. My card had changed, it still said my name but the first and middle name were in smaller letters. My last name, Underwood, sat in giant bold font. The dollar amount had gone up but I had no idea why. Even the title changed, but [Rune Wander] meant nothing.

    Without the internet, I couldn¡¯t research for the word ¡®rune.¡¯ Without readable books, I couldn¡¯t look in a dictionary. I felt stupid for not knowing what it meant but my skills were focused on graphic art, or knowing how to read a football play. They did not lead me to playing fantasy games; which clearly had been an incorrect life choice. Hindsight did me no good.

    I waved my fingers around. The light cast no shadows upon the walls. Grass, trodden upon by filthy monsters, wasn¡¯t brightened. It seemed as if the light only existed in my head and had no physical impact upon the world. Once again physics didn¡¯t matter.

    Unless I was seeing energy that somehow hit my optic nerves similar to a light, but didn¡¯t cast off heat. That might have to do with how the energy orbs went through walls. I speculated those thoughts and many others, yet had no solid proof of anything.

    It would have helped to have someone else to talk to.

    Post Note: By the time I found someone else, it was too late. These initial speculations were disturbingly accurate, almost like I knew on some deep level how everything would function. That, among many other little nagging factors, has kept me awake at night. But I have no one I can trust to talk to.

    At some point during my distraction, a finger shifted color slightly. I narrowed my eyes and moved around again, trying to find out which position had caused it. One finger crooked, the others bent, my hand formed half a claw, and finally I found a position that worked. The color of my fingertip, only one, had changed to red, exactly like the lantern.

    ¡°Ahh!¡± I shouted happily.

    Predictably, the creature upstairs growled. So far it had demonstrated three abilities. Growling, eating, and staring down at me disapprovingly. It also reminded me of a demon from hell, or the closest I¡¯d ever actually seen outside of church artwork.

    I took a few steadying breaths and fought back the urge to dance in happiness. This was as good, or better, than being able to walk normally. The thought sobered me. I¡¯d already taken being able to move without pain as a matter of fact. Even the scratches from those mini-orc attackers had faded.

    My body healed faster, from injuries both prior to ¡®The Event¡¯ and after it. The reasoning made no sense. I¡¯d have to explore that too. Maybe one of the features to my book allowed for self-healing. I could only assume the changeling orb handled that portion.

    Reminding myself that there were rules helped calm me further. If there were rules then it¡¯d be easier to survive. That¡¯s all survival really was, figuring out the rules and my own needs. Wiggling fingers around wasn¡¯t science or deductive reasoning.

    I shook my hand and found the position again. After twenty repeats of the same motion, I finally got the first finger in a correct position. The second finger was easier since there were only many angles to bend at, and the third. Soon four of my five fingers lit with the red hue.

    Before the fifth one, I paused and wondered if this was a good idea. This might summon fire. It might turn me into a squid. It might create angry mini-orcs. The point being that I had no clue and only vague reasoning to go off.

    Still, if the stupid squishy mini-orc¡¯s leader could summon fire from blood, this should be something similar. It made no sense for the red lantern to perform one way for him, and a separate way for me.

    I put my last finger into position. There was a roaring sound, or whoosh of air, as if something pulled and sucked away everything around my head. My mind squished down until no conscious thought remained. A force tugged my hand. I stared at the colored energy with a vague feeling of being pulled through a rabbit hole. There was a pop in my ears and pressure on my chest. I gasped and reflexively shook my arm as if casting off icky liquid.

    The light separated from my fingertips and splattered onto my shovel. Five points brightened intensely, bleeding onto the metal. Lines formed between the red sparks until a small sharp edged eight point star remained. The red burned and gradually faded to a dull blue.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    It reminded me of the exit signs. I had zero idea what that meant. My mind managed to stay detached while studying the markings and replaying my feelings during the separation. Each moment was analyzed until I could only come to one conclusion. I¡¯d performed magic, albeit with the aid of my book.

    I cupped my face in my hands and breathed in the thickened air. I¡¯d done it. My body threatened to shake apart from joy. It¡¯d only taken me a day and a half to make sense of the item I¡¯d purchased. Those stewardesses had been right about a great prize.

    Once again I dampened my own budding elation with cynicism. I¡¯d been better before the accident, bubbly and happy. Now, everything I did was tainted by a darkened outlook. Calling it realistic was still a disguise for deeply rooted negativity.

    Post Note: To say nothing of how many people died during the opening mall trek. A barren neighborhood implied the deceased amounted to higher than suspected. Additionally there were monsters, such as the one in dad¡¯s attic. Still, people would prove to be just as dangerous.

    Even though my spell had been completed, I had no clue what it actually did. There were no fireballs. I assumed this was a rune, as stated on my debt card. I ran my fingers across the markings. They had depth, but nothing poked through to the shovel¡¯s other side. That made no sense.

    Thankfully, it didn¡¯t trigger. That left me utterly clueless about the results, but I expected it¡¯d do something with fire. I hoped it would be that simple and easy to deduce. In the future, assuming I survived, I might get all sorts of items that the book ate. If they were utterly random in their results, I¡¯d probably end up killing myself.

    I dropped a book on the shovel. It did nothing. A dozen more experiments failed until I settled on live testing. I¡¯d need to get one of the mini-orcs to touch it and see if it reacted.

    The plan was basic. Lure a few of the creatures. See if the glowing star lines did anything to them. They should be caught in whatever. It would hopefully hurt them, but if not I could take out two by myself or run back into the house.

    It felt perfectly sound. This idea required bravery, but clearly this changed world wouldn¡¯t let me sneak around dad¡¯s backyard forever. I knew, with utter certainty, that this was not an event where people could bury their heads in the sand. Maybe a doomsday prepper would be able to hide in a shelter, but eventually I¡¯d need to cut the apron strings. I had to risk my life against creatures that were easier to kill.

    I had to take a chance.

    ¡°Damn,¡± I dared utter quietly.

    A small hole in the wooden fence let me see a patrolling group. They were in smaller bunches after a lot were killed in the last day. My efforts at killing single scouts also thinned them down. The group going by consisted of four mini-orcs with lame weapons, and a shotgun wielder. Either there were two of them, or this one had escaped the winged horse of doom.

    I cupped my hands over my face again and took a deep breath. They moved slowly while sniffing around. The shotgun wielder paused and waved his gun¡¯s barrel toward one of the bushes. He pulled the trigger. A blast propelled the mini-orc back ten feet.

    Three of the chicken rabbits ran out of a doghouse across the street. Their monster leader stood and whooped. ¡°Meat!¡±

    The other mini-orcs cheered and banged their weapons. The rabbits ran, and all five of the orcs cheered each other on. They were dense, or maybe a few levels beyond dense.

    I threw a rock at one of the mini-orcs. The projectile sailed perfectly into one¡¯s chest. It flopped to the side while three companions turned to squawk at me. They lifted their makeshift weapons in unison.

    The flop eared rabbits were even stupider. They drifted back in mass, more than there had originally been. Maybe that explained why the mini-orcs hadn¡¯t attacked right away, they were letting a bunch of them gather. My rune testers got distracted by the closer meal.

    Two more rocks hit mini-orcs perfectly. They shouted at each other and pointed. I waved to make sure the dimwitted creatures noticed me. The monsters jumped while bumping each other. Their leader pointed his gun at one of the others and shot a companion in the face. His companion¡¯s face turned to mush, leaving three and their leader.

    My eyebrows scrunched. I got their attention by tossing another rock. It smacked into a mini-orc. They got the message and charged me with the weak ones in the lead. I pulled back to the far end of the yard and stayed near my house¡¯s rear door. A mini-orc stepped through the remaining wire gate, right where I¡¯d planted the rune etched shovel.

    It stepped on the shovel tip. The yard rocked. Flying pieces of the creature melded with broken fence. I blinked from stupefaction as the mini-orc¡¯s detached head flew at me. On its face was a rolling set of eyes and wide open mouth. I believed it to be surprised at the sudden disconnect from the rest of its body.

    My hands reflexively caught the flying body part. Its mouth jerked twice from a last ditch effort to bite me. Pieces of the two behind it scattered in other directions.

    The fourth stood there with guts of its friends splattered all over his chest. He held a shotgun and cocked it repeatedly with one hand. Black marks plus singed hair were the only marks of damage. He blinked.

    ¡°Oh,¡± I said with disturbing calmness.

    It was so mad the creature shook. He took a deep breath and yelled at me, slobbering more with each word, ¡°Leet, defeat, meat! Eat!¡±

    That was too many noises. My house¡¯s guardian calmly came through the adjoining house wall, strode three steps to the broken part of the fence, and ate the shotgunner¡¯s top half in a single bite. The creature chewed, and the shotgun wielding monster stood there a few more moments before collapsing. Large wings arced through the air as the creature turned back around then walked back into the house. This reaffirmed my position as above mini-orcs, but well below the horse-sized creature.

    Four orbs of energy collapsed into being. One went in the house. Three others came to my book. I¡¯d solved another issue, and discovered I could create an explosive trap. A very violent one that made more noise than it was worth.

    My mouth gaped. Blood from the deceased burned away into nothing. The detached head was the last to fade. I shut down budding panic with a long shudder. Killing a single one here or there had been easy. Exploding a batch of them was both exciting and terrifying.

    I opened the book. The page I¡¯d pulled energy from was once again brightened. Unsteady fingertips brushed upon its surface, and light pooled on them. Four fingers went into position and glowed red. My explosive rune, or spell, or whatever was reusable.

    ¡°Nnnnnghh?¡± Something large sounded confused.

    I turned to the roof of dad¡¯s house, worried that my contracted defender might be annoyed at the sudden explosion. My head swiveled and finally recognized that the sound came from a few houses over.

    ¡°Nnnngh?¡±

    I found the source of confusion. A huge figure stood with an arm on a nearby rooftop. Its shoulder easily cleared the roof and the creature¡¯s head faced in my direction. The creature¡¯s other arm held onto a tree trunk. The rest of the tree rested across its shoulder.

    ¡°Oh,¡± I said again and slowly took two steps back into the house¡¯s shadow.

    My mind briefly disconnected from what it was seeing. I felt creatures as big as a horse with wings that could walk through walls was pushing the bounds of normal. A giant, for there were no other names that could apply to such a creature, was unreasonable. The giant beast stood and stretched, waving a huge tree around.

    ¡°Pinky?¡± It rumbled.

    I prayed fervently that my clothes resembled the wall behind me.

    The tree in his hands, thankfully served as a distraction. Weight, or force, or weak wood conspired to snap the thirty foot tree in two. His weapon fell onto the giant¡¯s head.

    He groaned and rubbed his head. I studied his slow movement with a strangely focused detachment. His muscles couldn¡¯t reach all the way up. His arm locked and couldn¡¯t raise above the shoulder. The giant¡¯s body had a lot of wrinkles for something so big.

    ¡°Shoddy pine. Naughty pine.¡±

    I could hear the sound of his dry skin. Flakes floated down. The giant looked around but apparently couldn¡¯t see that well. Each observation went away into a mental folder for later review.

    Four of my five fingers were still curled into position for an explosive rune. I shifted focus between the giant and my hand. Another possibility occurred to me. I hitched my breath as the stupid idea formed. I could blow up the giant.

    The reasoning felt too simplistic but the payoff might be huge. Well, it would be the same size as a giant-sized orb of energy. I¡¯d told myself I needed to take chances. The explosive rune worked better than I could have possibly expected. The giant certainly qualified as a bigger risk.

    I quietly waited for the large creature to forget about my home. It took ten minutes, maybe more, to settle back down behind the neighbor¡¯s house. My fingers twisted into the pattern of an explosion once more.

 Book 1, Rule 9

    Rule 9

    Be Prepared & Beware Honey Traps

    Statement: Monsters turn into energy. Energy is absorbed by our tools. The tools are bound to us in such a way that we get credit for our kills. Certain items are absorbed to give us power or abilities. We¡¯re being shaped by surviving against creatures¡¯ intent upon killing us.

    <u>BUT WHY?</u> What possible reason could there be to kidnap millions, or more, and bring them back with rules of physics changed? I refuse to believe this is simply a game to those creatures. Something triggered this. Something powerful enough to make them play by rules.

    Six hours, four more tests of the explosive rune, and ten chunky mini-orcs later, I¡¯d figured out additional guidelines. Unused runes faded after about ten minutes. That was an estimate. The glowing only existed on one page, so putting up two traps was impossible.

    No other finger positions worked to trigger colors or different variants of red. There was a redeeming factor. The rune went onto every surface I¡¯d tried to use. I put one on a dinner plate and threw it like disc. It destroyed the neighbor¡¯s front door. Disc tossing was a skill which was now a lethal weapon. The original Olympians would be proud.

    I still hadn¡¯t figured out why I could see those monsters in the dark. The book also refused to absorb the second lantern so getting an additional ability was out of the question. I felt more nervous about my vague plan to kill the giant with every passing second. Defeating the giant might not result in any energy, or it might end up with no reward beyond a currently useless orb.

    I kept my complaints internal and debated grabbing some pills. They¡¯d calm me down but might make me slow. The painkillers would be better. I never again wanted to experience being broken and if that giant managed to hit me then that¡¯d be it.

    The very thought of having bones shatter scared me. Surviving physical hell once didn¡¯t fill me with recklessness to risk another round of near death. I was betting on the power of an explosive rune.

    With less than a day left I tied my book to a belt using shoestrings. A backpack would take too long to get into. I took one anyway for items, in case there were supplies worth gathering. Plus it let me bring a few bottles of liquor. Dad would forgive me for using the good stuff given the situation. It should help make explosions bigger, hopefully. Chemistry class taught me that higher proof alcohol catches fire easily, but explosions were like super-fast fires.

    What I really glommed onto, was an old jar. I decided to pack nails into it and hope physics functioned as well as gravity. A rune would go onto paper. Paper, jar, nails, and any other bits of metal would be lobbed at the giant¡¯s face. They¡¯d be harder to throw but make a painful boom, for lack of a more technical phrase. I felt better figuring out new ways to make stuff explode.

    The downside was that this would be extremely noisy. More so than tossing rune etched discs into other people¡¯s doors. My early testing frequently made the giant pop up. I think the creature was getting used to booms because the sixth explosion barely got a rise out of the giant.

    I took a hammer, two kitchen knives, my backpack, a beer bottle filled with tap water, and a bar of food. The hammer let me undo nails from the neighbor¡¯s fence then went carefully into a backpack side pocket. I pulled two planks out and held out a hand mirror to inspect the next yard over.

    It was empty except for those rabbit creatures. I finally got to see one up close in daylight. They had tiny forearms, giant teeth, and fur exactly like a rabbit. Their feet were thick but webbed like a chicken¡¯s. They made absolutely no sense. The creatures ignored me in favor of eating every blade of grass they could find.

    Bare patches could be seen where a mob of them had torn up plants by their roots. They were a plague that I couldn¡¯t address until after I found a safe location, one that would last me after the three day window. That was part of the drive behind killing the giant. One day it¡¯d get hungry, or decide I was a threat.

    The book hung poorly from my side. I brushed my fingers along the edge until I felt the pages part. There were only a few surfaces inside and they were stiff enough that I could touch them without sight.

    Glowing fingers moved to position, leaving the fifth one out of place. I didn¡¯t want to feel that dizzying sucking motion. Not until I was against a monster or ready to fight something. Once planted, the rune took time fade unless it went ¡°boom.¡± I¡¯d discovered that the minute one exploded, I could pool another one from the page a moment later.

    Each yard was basically the same. Children¡¯s toys made me pause for a moment at the third step. They were overgrown with grass and dirty. Faded coloring implied they¡¯d been outside for a long time, but there hadn¡¯t been a solid day of sunlight since my return. Large clouds constantly chased each other across the sky.

    Post Note: At this point, I assumed I simply didn¡¯t know enough about how fast yard toys faded.

    My target turned out to be two blocks away. Slants to the house line had thrown me off. The streets were mostly clear. I found two of the mini-orc scouts, who were like packs but without weapons of any sort, and they died under single blows of the hammer.

    I struggled not to think about it. They were only vaguely human. Seeing the children¡¯s toys and killing creatures the size of kids caused me to pause in someone¡¯s backyard. I shivered for ten minutes and prayed they weren¡¯t related to each other. Images of those kids being sold by their parents to sharp toothed stewardesses flashed through my brain.

    Post Note: I still don¡¯t know if the two are related. I don¡¯t know where the children went or what became of them. I worry that one day someone will tell me those mini-orcs were all mutated toddlers. They looked like monsters, but if they had once been children¡ªwhat did that make me?

    After twenty minutes, I managed to make it to a wide open yard where tree and plants had broken loose. It sat on the edge of a tiny park. On the other side of the forest was as school. I had no idea if the school was still there.

    Over the next fence something large snored. I didn¡¯t dare pry off a board in case the creature¡¯s hearing was really good. It could hear an explosion blocks away. I climbed up a slope in the rear and lowered myself through a series of bushes. The jacket blocked some thorns but my backpack got caught repeatedly on branches.

    ¡°Hey!¡±

    I held my breath and glanced around for enemies. Part of me expected the bushes to come to life and attack.

    The giant¡¯s body was half submerged in an in-ground pool. The water had green algae all through it that grew upon the giant¡¯s legs. A woman with a sheet wrapped around her stood at the side of his head and berated him loudly.

    ¡°Hey, you giant pig fucker! All that size and your dick¡¯s still tiny. Come on! You¡¯ve been standing up, and still can¡¯t find it in you to even look in my direction.¡±

    She was unreasonably attractive. Black slick hair trailed down a clearly well-toned body. She was barefoot and standing near the filthy water. The woman still made my mouth water and body heat.

    ¡°All that size! What good are you? You just sleep all day. Nothing¡¯s changed you giant, fat, fuck! You can¡¯t even scratch your own ass. You can¡¯t even find it. You just got bigger and stupider.¡±

    Her lower lip stuck out in a pout. There was only one flaw that I could see, she did not know how to shut up. Nearly two days of being growled at for talking, plus months of keeping to myself since the accident made the sudden influx of noise downright aggravating.

    She turned to the bushes, then at the giant, and continued her verbal abuse. I stayed where I was and curled my fingers into the bomb shape. The angry woman turned slightly giving me a better view. A softly muted voice in the back of my brain wondered why she was so easy to see despite being forty feet away. My eyes were like telescopes zooming in. I could actually see a drop of water dripping down between her breasts.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    She started pacing while talking. Her footsteps were uneven and swayed more than simply sexiness could account for. ¡°All I wanted, was to look beautiful in inspire some passion, instead, I get stuck with the strongest guy around, who can¡¯t even lift a fucking finger¡ª¡± She stopped and closed her eyes tightly.

    A lusty roll to her words made my ears tingle. She had slightly brown skin and the woman¡¯s hair was stiff. Those features only enhanced her mouthwatering curves. Every time she shook, drunk or not, her breasts jiggled enticingly under the sheet. I wondered if she even knew that the top was coming loose.

    ¡°Thirty! You turned thirty and just went to shit. I should have never married you. Dad was right the whole time. Mom said marry an older man, he¡¯s more secure and stable. Dad was like, age does funny things to a man¡¯s man and I should find someone I wanted to be with. He was pissed at mom for the security thing. Sure no one wants to come near the house, but does your dumb ass even look at me now?¡±

    The woman continued her tirade. I couldn¡¯t figure out how she was so loud and I¡¯d never heard her before. A slow work through of the logic told me that three blocks and lots of fences was enough to mute most sound.

    My grand plan to blow up the giant for experience went right out the window. The giant was, if I understood it correctly, formerly human. The woman wearing a light sheet with a literally mouthwatering ass must have been human once. Both must have purchased items from the stores that changed them.

    ¡°What good is surviving this shithole of a life if I can¡¯t even get a decent fuck!¡±

    I couldn¡¯t tell if she was a shrew before or after the change. Their dynamic made me worry about the items I¡¯d been given.

    ¡°I should have had that broad chested man with the sword to delve my depths. I¡¯ll bet he would have if you hadn¡¯t killed him. I bet he would have all night long. That sword could have filled the void¡ª¡±

    The giant groaned at that and rolled to one side. His bloodshot eyes searched around but didn¡¯t settle. A tongue, at least as large as I was, parted dry lips. He smacked a few times and an arm slammed down next to the brown-skinned woman.

    ¡°Bad woman. Whore.¡± The giant rumbled. His words hurt.

    ¡°At least whores get laid!¡± She flailed her arms and spun. I found myself staring at the woman¡¯s ass and feeling far more aroused than I should have.

    I moved a little to cover my ears. The woman turned toward me and looked back to her giant husband.

    ¡°Whores. Get¡­ diseases.¡±

    Covering my ears did not help.

    ¡°I¡¯d be so lucky! At least it would be from sex! This is driving me crazy. Two months, two months without a functional vibrator. I can¡¯t find a single battery! The plastic ones aren¡¯t working for me. I need a real man.¡±

    He slammed his arm down again.

    ¡°Fuck you.¡± She drunkenly rocked. ¡°Fuck your couch.¡± The woman remembered to point accusingly at me. The sudden change in movement revealed a huge bottle in her other hand. ¡°And definitely fuck the horse that he rode in on. If he makes it upstairs I¡¯ll let him bang me from dawn till dusk!¡±

    I hadn¡¯t noticed it before because her very presence distracted me. My toes curled and legs tensed but none of it helped the reaction to her presence. She acted like the sheet slipping down wasn¡¯t even there. Her breasts were high and round, like two perfect drops of water.

    ¡°Bet he¡¯s here to kill you. Just like, that. God, that muscled man with the sword. Where did I put that? Fuck.¡± She stomped which made her entire leg ripple. I groaned and slammed my hands over my mouth. ¡°I¡¯d kill you myself but I can¡¯t so much as smack you because of that stupid magic ring you bought. Till death do us part! Asshole!¡±

    The giant¡¯s arm flopped. It stretched at least thirty feet long and smashed one of the still standing fences. He grumbled and moved his hand again.

    ¡°Who is. Here?¡±

    ¡°Him! Him! The sneaky one in the shadows who has a fully functional dick. It¡¯s bigger than yours ever was! He¡¯s here to kill your useless ass and claim his prize!¡±

    I looked down and found a new reason to feel flushed. The woman smirked and reeled back in amusement.

    ¡°Don¡¯t try to hide with that ninja bullshit. I can see it all. Even through clothes. For men anyway. Or at least people who think they¡¯re men. I thought this would be good. That¡¯s what the fucking whore at the counter said!¡±

    She couldn¡¯t sound angry with that roll to her words. She had a pout that turned stern frowns into cutesy motions that made me want to hold her. It helped that the sheet had fallen completely off. I watched her bounce as she waved the bottle at her husband.

    ¡°Be a goddamn man and kill him before he ravishes me!¡± she yelled and stomped. ¡°Or I swear I¡¯ll let him spread my legs on the bed upstairs. You piece of shit cuck.¡±

    The giant didn¡¯t seem to understand. He licked his lips and groaned as he tried to stand. ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡±

    ¡°That stud in the bushes!¡±

    I stared at her breasts without compression of the budding doom. There were no other thoughts in my head besides that woman and her sexy body. It¡¯d been seven months since I¡¯d been with a woman. Seven months, and a beautifully exotic female said I¡¯d have my way with her once the other man was dead.

    ¡°Kill him!¡± she shouted.

    Her order made perfect sense.

    My hand gathered the spell energy in a second. Fingers curled perfectly into the bomb spell shape. Shoulders rolled casting off my backpack. The giant stood slowly with unfocused eyes. I pulled out my glass bottle of nails and my body shook. My other hand unrolled the paper.

    The giant¡¯s knee gave out. A wound on the leg bled freshly. He ignored sure pain and crawled on hands and knees in my direction. Water splashed. The woman let out a yell that deepened on the end, somewhere between a cheer and a moan. I shivered and cast the stars onto my piece of paper. The giant shuffled forward like a baby crawled.

    I smiled wide and stuck the forming explosive rune into my jar. The giant lifted an arm. I screwed on the cap and moved with more grace than ever and heaved. His long body moved slowly. His arm slammed down to brace for another crawl.

    I released the jar. It flew forth from my fingertips straight into his neck that was thirty or forty feet away. It smashed into his shoulder. Some small part of my brain shouted that a smarter man would find cover.

    Post Note: I was enchanted. Literally. This was my second experience with mind muddling magic and it seems to be a recurring weakness.

    The air rippled. Shards from the explosive tore into his neck and gouged a huge portion of flesh. Part of his body flew away, while the bushes and trees around me flailed madly from being pelted by the nails I¡¯d packed into the jar.

    I didn¡¯t notice. I simply stared in triumph at the alluring woman whose eyes were wide. She breathed deeply and it was as though time stopped to soak in the gorgeous view, and was kind enough to let me enjoy the moment as well.

    ¡°Honey?¡± She broke the spell by speaking.

    The giant grabbed his throat. Blood, more blood than I¡¯d ever seen in my life, flooded down the monster¡¯s hands and shoulder. It spurted everywhere. He fell to the side. I stared as his huge head came within two feet of crushing me.

    The woman under him squirmed awkwardly. She lay trapped under his pelvis, trapped right next to the penis she¡¯d been screaming for. I stepped around the huge body toward my prize. Blood that looked like free flowing amber poured out of her mouth. Her eyes were cloudy.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t¡ª¡± She gasped. ¡°Honey. You¡¯re crushing me.¡±

    I stepped closer, entranced. Her husband was dead, which meant she was mine, by her own admission. She wanted a real man. I¡¯d be one for her.

    She kept talking. ¡°I should never have put on that ring. I should have never bound myself¡­¡±

    I crossed the final ten feet between us. Her skin was like dark coffee mixed with fresh soil. Her curves pushed up creating a deep valley. Despite being alien I still found her absurdly attractive. I reached a hand in her direction before it dawned on me what was happening.

    My approach must have given her a burst of strength. ¡°I just wanted sex.¡± Her eyes closed slowly but she kept on babbling. ¡°What¡¯s the point of being married if my husband won¡¯t put out? I wanted a man to touch me. Please. Please¡­¡± She was dying, at least I was fairly sure.

    My body moved on its own to obey her demands. Fingers brushed against her cheek. The warmth of another human struck me. I hadn¡¯t touched a person other than doctors in months. She smiled as her neck lost strength. Her face slammed down.

    Her eyes stayed half open. In my head, that implied she was still alive and simply gathering her strength. I waited for her to get out from under the giant. She didn¡¯t move. It took me a few minutes to realize she would never move again.

    The fog clouding me drifted away. My jaws ached from smiling for too long. Small hurts all over my body reported in. I blinked and gave myself a once over, finding that my clothes had been completely shredded and pieces of metal were still stuck in my leg.

    Then the real pain kicked in, and I screamed. I bit hard and got my tongue. Coppery tasting blood filled my mouth and my stomach threatened to retch. I scrambled for the bag and found my water bottle pierced but the pills were still intact. I gulped down two and pulled out the nails.

    I vaguely remembered to bind the wound but blood flowed freely. It was nothing compared to the buckets which pooled under the giant. I pressed fingers over the wound and got ready to walk toward the house for a first aid kit.

    Two steps later and my body went limp. Muscles felt dead. The flow around my fingers slowed. I stared at the two dead people while trying to move, but it proved impossible. Nothing responded. My legs didn¡¯t kick.

    Then I realized that maybe I¡¯d been in a car wreck again. My legs might never work. I panicked and tried to yell, but my chest refused to move. That meant I couldn¡¯t breathe either and would be dead soon. I couldn¡¯t even feel myself panic anymore. Everything was numb.

    The two dead people were nearby. Her cloudy eyes gazed at who knew what. She slowly turned into a ball of energy, brown this time. The giant turned into several huge balls of yellow. I¡¯d claimed a prize, but not the one intended by the brown-skinned woman.

    It made me sick in a way the mini-orc creatures couldn¡¯t. They had been the most intelligent acting things I¡¯d seen. They were also murderers. A honey trap, and giant man who probably ate people whole, were a terrible combination. Nausea washed over me and grew in strength. I swallowed back salt and metal tastes repeatedly.

    Post Note: It didn¡¯t even register that my muscle function was coming back. I blame it on the mind control and euphoria of staring at that woman.

    Then I lost the battle. My legs worked enough to turn myself over. For half an hour my stomach contents, small though they were, emptied all over the pavement near the pool and tears ran from my eyes. With each convulsion the rest of my wounds cried out.

    They weren¡¯t bleeding anymore. Scabs had formed but my body still felt weak. Lifting my backpack took more effort than expected. I couldn¡¯t even find the strength to lift my book and check for a new spell.

    I quashed the terrible voice inside my head that threatened to giggle and staggered inside their house. She¡¯d mentioned other prizes from dead people. Maybe they¡¯d turned into energy just like those two. Maybe, when I died, I¡¯d turn into a yellow ball too. I could even be lucky enough to be a pretty dim black orb like my book.

    A small bubble of laughter escaped me anyway.

 Book 1, Rule 10

    Rule 10

    Come To Terms & Search inAttics

    Statement: I¡¯ve written it before, and I¡¯ll probably write it again¡ªassuming I survive¡ª but those first few days were hard. Before the event I¡¯d been mild mannered. The most aggressive I got was with online football games or during college disc tossing. Competition got me heated but at the end of the day we were all playing together. (Except those kids online¡ªlittle jerks). Yet, with each monster I killed, I changed.

    I used to tell myself that I was simply trying to survive. I also told myself that fighting tougher monsters would give me skills or powers¡ªwhich I wholeheartedly believed after the lantern turned into an explosive trap. But then there was a second truth that became evident. Part of me liked killing. It didn¡¯t help that their bodies became starlight upon death. The gore was momentary and disappeared, like a dream. Each time they faded or I got a prize, I could lie to myself.

    The inside of their house was overgrown with plants. There had been a row of potted ferns near one wall that burst out of their containers and sank roots into the ground. The floorboards were shredded. I couldn¡¯t make sense of what happened, but it seemed to have been this way for a long time.

    It was like the children¡¯s yard toys or layers of dust in my room. The woman who¡¯d died mentioned being here for weeks. These were signs that time had passed in huge chunks. But the food in my fridge had still been good.

    Post Note: These frustrating inconsistencies helped keep me distracted. I needed them, desperately. The alternative was to spend more time having a mental breakdown and there simply wasn¡¯t room in life for emotional drama. By the time I found time, I¡¯d¡­started to enjoy fighting monsters.

    The upstairs bedroom was a mess of dried fluids. There were trash bags in a closet that smelled even worse. I closed the door and fought back bile. I¡¯d emptied myself on the floor moments before and still found more to dry heave out a window at the stair¡¯s top.

    I opened the window wide and prayed that risking this well used bedroom would result in worthwhile prizes. If not, the best answer might be to burn down the house. Maybe there were buckets of bleach downstairs to help cleanse the room.

    No one on earth could ever have a larger collection of dildos than this woman had managed to find. They ran the entire range from small to comically thick and each one of them showed signs of frequent use. I swallowed, closed my eyes, and went straight for the window inside her bedroom.

    It was strange to think the smell helped me forget my pain. Fresh air almost removed the taste of bile in my throat. I hung out the window coughing and wishing for more than one bottle of water. Her window had a perfect view of the backyard and where I¡¯d come over the short slope.

    Pieces slowly clicked. She had probably seen me come in and used that as a reason to break away from her, activities, to come downstairs. A few pictures sat on a disheveled dresser showing what they must have looked like before the change. He was heavyset. She wore excessive makeup and didn¡¯t have nearly the same curves. They proudly cupped their hands together with wedding rings on display.

    I went back downstairs and found a pair of tongs. It helped me avoid touching the filth as I searched for a more effective sword. I hoped that the other person she¡¯d mentioned had bought a real weapon.

    It was not upstairs, so I searched around, refusing to come all this way and only get some brown orbs.

    They had food, water, and clothes. They were of all sizes. Most resembled the children¡¯s clothes that those mini-orc creatures wore. These stockpiles were in random corners of the house. Booze was between couch cushions, on top of counters, in closets.

    ¡°Dammit!¡± I¡¯d done all this and gotten nowhere.

    I sat down, eating from a bag of potato chips. They tasted delicious enough to make me moan. I couldn¡¯t remember how long it¡¯d been since I ate real junk food. The supplies at my house were woefully plain compared to what these two had stockpiled. There were pickle jars. I didn¡¯t even like pickles but they were delicious.

    They¡¯d probably been robbing nearby houses. I piled food into my backpack and found plastic bags under the sink. More food and booze went into those containers. A pile of marital aides blocked me from looking under the bed for this hero¡¯s sword. Unless she¡¯d somehow shellacked his manhood and called that a sword.

    It¡¯d barely been a few hours and sunset approached. Two of the annoying mini-orcs were already scouting the yard outside. I didn¡¯t want to alert too many others until I¡¯d found my prize, but the downstairs doors barely functioned.

    The small mini-orc creatures would have avoided such a huge giant. They were easily cowed creatures and often broke at the first sign of overwhelming aggression. At least, they ran from the horse-sized creature. Me however, they screamed ¡°Eat meat¡± at.

    I fished out a kitchen knife from my bag and crept toward the stair top. The little creature were easy enough to kill if I got the drop on them. This wasn¡¯t home or as safe, so I planned to be extra careful.

    Crashing came from downstairs. I knew the noise by now, especially after a day of hearing them pace around the block at home. I focused to hear their words and get a feel for where the monsters were. The plants downstairs were overgrown but most walls still stood. It sounded like some had ventured to the kitchen and others to the front room.

    ¡°Meat, meat, meat, meat,¡± they chattered.

    Floorboards creaked as the first of them ventured up toward where I waited. I carefully stepped into the foul bedroom and hid behind the door. My steps were too loud but the half-sized monsters didn¡¯t act as though they heard me.

    ¡°Meat,¡± multiple creatures chanted as they came.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Their footsteps were loud. Each footfall pounded in my ears. They poked around. Doors creaked as the creatures checked out the next room down and a hall closet. I¡¯d been through those same rooms twice over searching for worthwhile items.

    One poked his head into the room. I¡¯d been looking too high up and failed to notice despite their loud footsteps. It looked right at me but didn¡¯t react. Instead its muddy colored eyes slid by and focused on something behind me. I froze and heard a second set of footsteps come in the doorway.

    ¡°Sweetmeat,¡± the one entering said followed by a low whine. My stomach turned at his longing tone. It felt as though he was talking about the woman who¡¯d been here in an entirely unwholesome manner.

    I couldn¡¯t risk that he¡¯d notice me. There was no time to question their stupidity or poor vision. I shoved the door and pinned the second mini-orc between the door and frame. The first one set his eyes on me.

    ¡°Deceit!¡± it shouted.

    I drove the second knife into the soft spot between neck and shoulder and jerked my blade. For half a breath I pondered why the action felt so easy. The image of that blade on a necklace flashed to mind. Then he mustered enough strength to clock me with his other hand.

    The second squawked and wiggled out of the spot he¡¯d been trapped in. ¡°Fete?¡± it asked while slowly trailing eyes up my arm.

    That made no sense. I yanked the kitchen knife out of his friend then dove for the second. He lifted the broom handle in his hands and I shuffled my feet to kick the small guy in his groin. His eyes rolled, the knife flashed across his neck, and hot blood spurted onto my face.

    Two were dead and I hadn¡¯t been scratched by them. That one had stared right through me without a single ounce of awareness. As if I hadn¡¯t been there at all. Either they were extremely stupid or I somehow gained ¡°Ninja bullshit¡± as the dead brown lady said.

    Their bodies would fade soon. I needed to use them to scare off the others. The messy state of their remains made their bodies slippery and difficult to grab. I managed to grab them both and heaved one over the stair railing.

    The clatter of noise got their attention. A chorus of voices asked, ¡°Eat?¡± then stomped over.

    They looked down at their dead companions, then up at me. I threw the second body over. It landed on a shotgun wielder¡¯s face.

    ¡°Retreat!¡± he shouted. A mess of other voices echoed the order. Multiple feet ran along the floor.

    I took a moment to add fuel to the fire. My fingers curled into the open claw which created an explosive rune. The spelled sucked my mind out through an arm. I ground my teeth and rode out the sensation until it burned. With a flick it went onto a used dildo.

    Post Note: You did not read that wrong. I was in the woman¡¯s bedroom and controlling where the runes went took a lot of effort. This was only my eighth or ninth use of the spell. In hindsight, there¡¯s some amusement to be gained in imagining a giant black phallus being tossed through the back window into a squad of half-sized men, by a man named Lance Hawthorn Underwood.

    Gloves couldn¡¯t stop me from thinking how crusty these products were. I actually looked forward to throwing it away and knowing it would explode. Someone else would experience my hell for at least half a second before their body turned into chunks.

    The mini-orcs gathered in the back pool. There were a lot more than the two I¡¯d originally seen. They were busy arguing with each other. Half shouted ¡°Meat¡± and the other chunk ¡°Retreat.¡± I¡¯d kept the windows open to air out the smell. I hung near the curtain and peered through and judged the distance.

    A light toss cleared the distance. This time I pulled my head back. And kept my blade pointed toward the stairs in case they ran up here.

    ¡°Eat?¡± a mini-orc whispered. I peeked out again and wondered why chaos hadn¡¯t ensued.

    The giant black dildo sparked and exploded. I pulled my head back a second too late. A splatter of mini-orc remains hit the wall. I wiped my face and wondered how tiny creatures managed to make a mess everywhere.

    ¡°Retreat!¡± one shouted.

    ¡°Defeat!¡± a second one yelled.

    There was a second much smaller boom. I peeked out the window, using the curtain as cover, and struggled to understand where it had come from.

    The shotgun carrying mini-orc must have fired his gun into one of the other¡¯s faces. He was in the pool gargling water and shouting incoherently at his minions. How he was still alive was beyond me. Having the weapon made him tough, or being tough is how he got the weapon. Gibbets of his friends were all over. Shirts and jackets they wore were strewn about with limbs still inside. The pool had somehow grown filthier.

    ¡°Retreat!¡± they all agreed and ran off, leaving their leader floundering in the pool.

    I concentrated and prepared a second explosion, but by the time I shook off the dizziness the shotgun boss charged off through a hole in the fence. Killing him would have made my day marginally better, so I poked my head out further and eyeballed the distance between us. The picture frame would fly far enough and would probably hook left with a slight breeze. I stepped out onto the roof and kept near the house wall, intent upon explosive carnage. By the time I reached the corner the small mass of mini-orcs were gone from sight.

    We would have to settle our issues another day. A cold rush caused me to shiver. I¡¯d been contemplating their murder so easily, and it had only been around two days since returning to this world. The change bothered me.

    As I walked back, I noticed a window I hadn¡¯t seen before. It was tiny and above the bedroom one. Suddenly it clicked, they had an attic. If I were trying to hide prizes from dead people anywhere in the house, a rooftop location would be perfect.

    I put the idea of flying dildo explosives and desire to do harm upon living creatures out of my mind and got back inside. Down the upstairs hallway, about halfway, was a small ceiling recess that went to an attic.

    This had to be the last place to search before leaving. The explosive picture frame was parked near the stair¡¯s base. My backpack and bags of pilfered supplies were by the rear door. Once I covered this last room I¡¯d go home.

    I found a chair, pushed the ceiling cover to the side, and hefted myself up. My body shook. For a moment I worried that this might be a return of my broken hips and detached muscles. A nagging feeling in the back of my head screamed I¡¯d simply overdosed on drugs and was imagining a fantasy land with spells and slovenly giants.

    The smell convinced me otherwise. It stank of desperation and a hope which comprised of equal parts sour gym socks and aroused female.

    A lantern, exactly like the one at my house, sat inside the small space. It was on the ground taunting me. For a moment, I thought I¡¯d somehow come full circle and ended up back at home. The lighting was about right given it was late afternoon. Then I saw the other objects. A black sword, seven blank cards that reminded me of my own, and three sets of clothes. They were on mannequins and surrounded by even more used products.

    ¡°My god,¡± I muttered, happy to be able to speak without punishment. My nose still worked and the window here refused to budge. I managed to survive dashing toward the sword in hopes of getting a reward.

    It tingled under my palm and slowly, grudgingly, collapsed into an orb. There was pressure, like I was trying to grab a lubed up water balloon. It slipped through my fingers despite using both hands and trying to net it with a shirt. It escaped me, a dark light that still somehow shone brightly zoomed into the book to merge with the other two markers.

    ¡°No! I need a better weapon,¡± I shouted, emboldened by the lack of growling. My prize for a horribly screwed up and short fight turned into a mystery. I didn¡¯t want another spell that made me dizzy. I needed something equally powerful but physically usable.

    Knowing my luck this would end up as another useless item like the regular yellow orbs. I still had no clue what they did or how they played into anything.

    I opened the book¡¯s pages to search for an answer. Inside were three pages with colors. One glowed red, which was for the explosive. The other two lit with brown and a dark color which reminded me of a black light.

    They reacted in the same manner as my explosive. I touched them and light pooled. They didn¡¯t trigger easily. Pulling energy from one page didn¡¯t affect the others. Once I figured this out it might be possible to use two abilities at once. Though the sword and whatever that brown-skinned woman had must do weird stuff.

    I needed to get home and figure out what these two new colors did. There was one day left on my protection duration and I intended to test these new abilities out somewhere safe. Hopefully the black one did something with a weapon. The brown one might make me a sex fiend.

 Book 1, Rule 11

    Rule 11

    Lies Are Hard & Monsters Spawn

    Statement: Every single written text is in a different language. It took me time to realize my own writing was transforming as well. I remember writing words, ordering my thoughts, but it¡¯s impossible to apply logic to the sentences.

    Single words sometimes stay unchanged. Two words paired together read wrong. Single letters are occasionally okay, but writing A through H turns into a jumble. This stinks of deliberate design. What magic causes a change in the text? Why only some words and not others?

    The trip home was far less exciting. I holed up in my house and drank copious amounts of liquor. I only had one day left to handle my business then I¡¯d have to travel downtown or risk surviving at night without any security. Those mini-orcs were like swarming cockroaches.

    I struggled to read more books and almost made sense of three words. The heavy amounts of drinking led me to guess badly at all sorts of answers. Blurry faux letters hopped around on the page to line up in a new order.

    My belief, for at least three beers, was that heavy drinking made reading easier. I pissed in a toilet that still flushed but no new water came in. The creature upstairs growled to remind me that humming happily also counted as noise.

    At the fifth beer, my night blurred together. I remember getting out the book and playing with the brown spells to try to figure out something, and blacking out.

    I woke and the house smelled worse than before. A combination of sour musk, rotten meat, and morning breath tore into my nose. The room almost felt familiar. I¡¯d been this messed up a few times after getting into the accident.

    The world blurred poorly together. Thick slime coated my throat and tongue. The barricade against a window revealed afternoon light. I must have passed out early in the morning. Without functioning clocks my sense of time was turning to crap. Drinking had been a bad idea.

    A rhythmic pounding came from the front room; despite the sheer unlikelihood of someone knocking on the door. My body felt a bit better than yesterday. I¡¯d been in pain often and knew such healing was unnatural. Only a headache remained; strong enough to keep me from thinking clearly.

    My house guardian didn¡¯t stop the knocking. There were no growls. I might have killed for a windup up clock or wristwatch. Then it hit me, maybe my time was over.

    I peeked through a side bedroom window which gave me a decent view on the front porch. There were a few dead mini-orcs. I watched as they faded into orbs of light which zipped to the front.

    A muscled blonde in plate armor stood at the door. He had a giant hammer. I was fairly sure he had been my bus driver but the man¡¯s name escaped me. It might have been weeks, or months, or an eternity since we last saw each other. The chances of someone I know making it through that line were slim. Then surviving in this world added another layer of complexity.

    I expected him to stab me or ask for money. Fingers behind my back curled into the explosive rune¡¯s pattern. My limbs felt weird, longer and frail. He could have been a trick of this strange place. I dithered outside the door while the sounds of occasional mini-orcs and loud clangs came through the door.

    By the time I opened the door, he¡¯d fought off another small wave of the minor monsters. I made a mental note to figure out how so many of them kept showing up. They bred faster than the rabbit chickens. Maybe they were simply spawning from thin air.

    ¡°What?¡± I asked.

    He reared his head and hastily wiped blood off a gauntlet which had a golden film over it. I found that silly because the blood would fade along with the mini-orcs when they turned into energy.

    ¡°Excuse me, miss, have you heard about our Lord and Savior, Mayor Kent?¡± He spoke without a hint of stammer.

    My eyebrows lifted in mild amazement. Here was a man who''d stopped by in the middle of chaotic earth and still managed to sound polite while wearing blood-drenched heavy armor. There was only one real problem, aside from showing up on my family¡¯s doorstep.

    ¡°Miss?¡± I questioned while squinting. A girl I was not.

    ¡°But you look¡­¡± I would have cursed or thought dirty thoughts. He stayed professional and polite but I suspected he was faking it. No one could be so friendly.

    The man¡¯s name hit me. Leon. The bus driver still managed to sound meek and apologetic despite wearing thick armor.

    I felt beyond annoyed and swooned with a hang over. It made the morning light and his face even worse than normal. ¡°What? How are you even here?¡±

    ¡°I was looking for Mister Underwood. He should be living here.¡±

    That didn¡¯t answer the more important question. Leon never struck me as a smart man, but he also drove buses for a living. It was a rude thought and I struggled to be friendly. That took more work than expected.

    ¡°Why?¡± I said slowly so he couldn¡¯t mistake my question for something more evil, like ¡°Die¡± or ¡°Pie.¡± Maybe a year ago before my accident I could have been a nice friendly person. Now, I wanted to stab him and go back to bed. Being hungover did not help.

    ¡°I was sent to pick Mayor Kent¡¯s son up once his three days has past. The home is no longer protected. Perhaps he left early?¡±

    My eyes fluttered briefly and I fought not to trigger the explosive spell. I imagined applying it to my pants and kneeing him in the face for all those times he locked my wheelchair up wrong. A dainty laugh escaped that I choked before it got too rude.

    ¡°I live here.¡±

    ¡°You do?¡±

    ¡°Clearly.¡±

    ¡°But you don¡¯t look like Mayor Kent.¡±

    ¡°Says the man wearing glowing plate armor.¡±

    He raised eyebrow. ¡°And you don¡¯t sound the same.¡±

    My face split in a smile as I said, ¡°All the better to eat you with.¡± The problem was, I actually almost felt that way. Part of me wondered what sort of prize Leon would give upon death.

    ¡°What?¡±

    I wasn¡¯t about to apologize for skipping a few lines. We were basically doing a bad version of the red riding hood skit and that annoyed me.

    ¡°Who sent you?¡±

    ¡°Our Lord and Savior, Mayor Kent.¡±

    For the umpteenth time I considered exploding his face and wondering what loot might drop. That struck me as weird because only yesterday I¡¯d been having qualms over fighting the giant and his wife.

    The thought made me sick. Thinking about something and actually doing it were completely different. I¡¯d killed two other survivors yesterday and fought mini-orc creatures because they were out to kill me. It was about continuing to live and I¡¯d need to make peace with necessity.

    I turned my thoughts to Leon¡¯s words. Mayor Kent sounded familiar. My dad¡¯s first name was Kent, but he¡¯d never been a mayor of anything.

    ¡°Did you get changed? That¡¯s dangerous. Means you¡¯re treated like a monster,¡± Leon asked slowly. He kept his arm up and the dark yellow glow kept flickering into being. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re his son?¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°No,¡± I said. The idea that being transformed made me a monster fit with what I¡¯d seen so far. It also possibly meant that if I were human enough, then I wouldn¡¯t be a target. Unless we were fighting over food, water, money, or monsters that gave rewards. Cynicism felt natural.

    ¡°Then how are you living in his house? It¡¯s protected,¡± Leon asked. Anyone else would be aggressive. Leon acted prepared to fight but he kept trying to be friendly. His eyes were slightly glazed and lips faltered into a smile. He fought it though.

    There was only one answer worth giving. ¡°Magic.¡±

    He looked left slowly then up and over his shoulder. Creatures were in the bushes across the street. I ignored them, because in one swift movement it would be possible to lob a bomb over and send them scattering.

    ¡°Your skin¡¯s like a monster. Kind of like the one down the street we¡¯d staked out for retribution.¡±

    Retribution worried me. The word was only used by religious zealots and crazy people who lived on soapboxes. I sniffed and looked over the skin on my arm. It wasn¡¯t normal at all. It was brown and the hair was finer than yesterday.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°I think you should go.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Your legs work.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been ordered to bring back Mayor Kent¡¯s son. I can¡¯t leave without him. Or you, if that¡¯s you.¡±

    The world was utterly different than it had been before. This man landed on my doorstep at the wrong side of ten in the morning and apparently had no restraint. It may have been the pot calling the kettle black, but clearly he had problems.

    I decided to test him. ¡°Where would you take me?¡±

    ¡°The corner store for about an hour or two depending on how bad it goes. Then to a shelter in a park a few blocks outside of city hall.¡±

    City hall was technically downtown last time I checked. That fit with my dad¡¯s message, but it was possible something had changed. They might have been unable to find safety down there.

    ¡°Why?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Mayor Kent says you might not be sure about the rules or brave going outside. He said to tell you, and these words exactly, that this is not the world you knew. You need to learn to kill to survive.¡±

    He bothered me. Leon used too many words to explain simple issues. Maybe they were complicated to him, or I¡¯d grown used to the silence after so many months to myself. People were annoying.

    ¡°You¡¯re weirdly forthcoming,¡± I said.

    ¡°I have to be,¡± he said. ¡°Mayor¡¯s orders. No lying to his son, he says. Or anyone who might be related. Keep him, you, safe until he¡¯s, you¡¯re, able to take care of yourself. I have to say that Mayor Kent¡¯s a good man. If we all follow his orders we will survive this new world.¡± He gulped and fidgeted with wrist braces.

    ¡°All right.¡±

    We were still talking in the doorway. It drove me crazy but part of me enjoyed standing. Before the stewardesses and their damn line, standing for this long would have hurt. I still felt pain where the shrapnel from my explosives jar had torn into flesh.

    He shifted an ugly helmet to the side and pointed behind me. ¡°Can I come in? It¡¯s going to be unsafe to stand out here, very soon. Those scouts, they saw me. They¡¯ll call in their leaders.¡±

    The man provided more questions than expected. Still, downtown was the next goal, and safety. Mostly I wanted to stay safe and figure out these new spells while exploring the rules of the world. A vaguely familiar face who promised to connect me with my supposed father would help. However, I planned to keep my secrets to myself.

    ¡°Come on in.¡± I stepped out of the way and kept my hand ready to throw a bomb.

    Leon stepped inside, clanking all the while. ¡°Do you have anything to eat? Some of the houses are picked over and¡ª¡±

    I gestured to one of the small stockpiles. There were three bags full of food, a set of clothes, and clean water. They were piled near each exit of the house, in case. The word ¡°insurance plan¡± had been written onto each one with a marker. None of them were legible now. ¡°Food¡¯s in there.¡±

    Leon shuddered nervously. He glanced at me, then to the pile of clothes and shook his head. His helmet clanked with each motion. I fought the urge to explode it and wondered when I¡¯d turned so violent. It had happened somewhere between being ordered to ¡°Kill him¡± by a beautiful woman and fighting mini-orc creatures.

    ¡°It¡¯s not trapped,¡± I said while walking back to the bathroom. He¡¯d been thrown off by my appearance, and to the best of my knowledge, I hadn¡¯t changed since the last time we saw each other.

    Leon might not remember picking me up here before. He¡¯d been a city bus driver but might have been here a lot longer than me. A month or two of this nightmare would be enough to cause memory problems. The main streets had almost looked normal but it was likely that all the little changes made it hard to keep track.

    I stopped in the bathroom to figure out what Leon had seen. The mirror showed me completely alien features to my normal ones. Flab had vanished, but not to the point of being extremely muscled. What remained was thin and wiry, stretched tightly across my arms and legs. The changes made me look wild. I stared for a long time at a polished version of myself with longer hair and narrower features.

    It would be impossible to consider myself a female with this body. There was a glow on the left pectoral that the other man either didn¡¯t notice or chose not to comment on. Small lines were etched between the five points and managed to be slightly brighter than the regular brown skin.

    Post Note: Here¡¯s where life got weird. At some point my spell had turned me into a new creature. I was certainly not female¡ªI had all the man parts¡ªwith strangely more emphasis, down below, than before. I was taller with awkwardly stiff hair and finer features. Even my voice was lighter. I had been clueless until someone pointed it out.

    The answer to one of my questions was simple. The brown spell transformed me into a strange earthen Adonis. The marking would be obvious to anyone who could see spells like I did, but those mini-orcs showed absolutely no awareness of the explosive traps. I suspected that vision to see my abilities were not universal.

    By that logic, I probably wouldn¡¯t be able to see abilities other people used.

    ¡°Are you ready?¡± Leon shouted.

    I ignored him and debated how to handle this change. Putting a finger on the dark star marking on my chest caused the tip to glow. Two fingers and three also lit up. It was likely by pressing down all five I could peel off the transformation and return to normal.

    However, I had no idea what the cool down was on performing the spell a second time. This could be a single use ability or have some other limitation I was unaware of. Casting spells also made my head go woozy and lose focus. Both sounded like bad ideas with a near-stranger in the house. I opened the book, which had still been strapped to me, and checked the pages. The red and black colors still floated in their respective dimmed mirror-pages.

    ¡°We should go now. While there¡¯s still time to get everything done. Traveling gets more dangerous at night.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said slowly, studying my higher-pitched voice. The change was obvious now that I¡¯d been clued in. It wasn¡¯t girly sounding either, but almost syrupy, like a sharp honey. It made no sense but somehow the idea of an annoyingly sweet man stuck itself into my head.

    ¡°Do you have anything, any, rewards to bring?¡±

    I put my clothes back into place, adjusted the book on its belt, and walked out of the bathroom. Leon stood there, stuffing bits of food under a piece of plate. It was unhygienic.

    ¡°Why?¡± I asked.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to a dungeon. Or something, that¡¯s a lot like a dungeon. You know, from games. Did you ever play those types of games? Get a party, venture forth, slay monsters?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Post Note: I¡¯ve said this before, but my choice of games were sports ones. I didn¡¯t know a lot about fantasy games. I¡¯d learn, because apparently people were pulling details from these style of games. It¡¯s a stupid belief that will get them killed. This is not a game.

    ¡°Really?¡±

    I stared at him and managed to only blink.

    ¡°Wow. Okay. Ummm.¡± His eyes shifted around in search of an escape. ¡°So, me and two others, all followers of Mayor Kent, have a group. We were ordered to show you some stuff, and try to get you more power, from, monsters.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said.

    ¡°Have you¡­ have you been hiding here the entire three days?¡±

    He clearly worried about me or didn¡¯t like having to babysit. At least, those were the only reasons I could find for him shuffling around. A big man in plate armor being uneasy is hard to miss. His gear clanked every time his feet shifted.

    My mouth opened to lie. The words died in my throat. I tried again and got the same result. That was strange to me. Something was outright preventing me from telling Leon that I hadn¡¯t left the house at all. I¡¯d have to figure out what caused the change later.

    ¡°Mostly,¡± I settled on a vague response that was technically true.

    ¡°I¡¯ll explain some as we walk. We have a cart and horse. Donkey, I think. Nearby. To ride to the compound.¡±

    An eyebrow went up. It was weird that we still had donkeys when there¡¯d been no sign of any other domestic animal. I suspected those mini-orc creatures had killed everything that couldn¡¯t breed fast enough.

    Leon whispered most of the way down the street and around a corner. He kept an eye out but acted unconcerned about the smaller enemies. The mini-orc creatures prowled the bushes and I stayed ready to throw an explosive at them. I¡¯d attached it to a small saucer dish.

    What he explained, as we walked, made sense provided I didn¡¯t try to apply real logic to the statements. I took note of the following:

    <ol>

    <li> Downtown was infested with monsters, and a big boss creature. Leon and Mayor Kent (whom he believed to be my father) stated killing this monster should reward some superpower.</li>

    <li> Monsters constantly spawned from set locations. This made no sense but explained how the world hadn¡¯t run out of mini-orcs despite them being so squishy.</li>

    <li> Defeated monsters turned into yellow energy orbs. They also gave money which displayed on the cards. This made no sense either.</li>

    <li> A few vending machines had been spotted, but their positions changed when no one was looking. They probably ate people who shook them.</li>

    <li> None of those items filled me with any comfort. </li>

    </ol>

    We arrived at the corner store, where I¡¯d been left off the bus three days before. My hangover from last night¡¯s drinking persisted.

    Two women waited for us. One wore a Goth tee-shirt with holes in it. Underneath that was chain mail. Her hair was unevenly cut and she clearly loved the giant sword in her hands. She polished it with a whet that cast sparks.

    The other woman was much heavier up top and yawned frequently. At least three bathrobes hung loosely only bound by a sash around the waist. She rubbed one eye and had four cans of soda next to her.

    Leon stomped across the parking lot to a donkey tethered near a cart. A pair of feet stuck out of the cart¡¯s rear. Snoring came from inside.

    ¡°Hi, Callisto. He was there,¡± Leon said. ¡°He, well, this is him. Or it¡¯ll match what the Mayor told us to do.¡±

    ¡°Great. If it¡¯s good enough for the boy scout, it¡¯s good enough for me,¡± the Goth-shirted woman said.

    She reminded me of someone, but I couldn¡¯t place who.

 Book 1, Rule 12

    Statement: Dungeons are a concept which started around the thirteen hundreds. Originally, it was used to refer to a ¡°great tower of a castle.¡± This is strange because many people imagine underground torture pits when the word has nothing to do with underground at all. In fact, towers were easier to store people in and easier to guard.

    Modern terms turned dungeons into places where players go to fight bosses and get loot. I did not know this personally, I¡¯d never gotten that far in games. The others insisted they were there as challenges for us. I suspect something more sinister, such as a place that wants us to die inside of it. It was simply another chain in the process which encouraged us to die.

    The three of them whispered. I strained to hear them while studying our surroundings. It wasn¡¯t that I cared about them as people, but every single sentence they said could be helpful later on.

    ¡°This is Kent¡¯s son?¡± the one with a huge sword asked. She¡¯d put that weapon away and was polishing two much smaller blades.

    ¡°Mayor Kent,¡± Leon said firmly and took a shuddering breath. ¡°And, I think so. He was at the house.¡±

    They were silent for a moment and exchanged glances. I stared across the main street and wondered how a landscape could be familiar and alien at the same time. The street lights resembled lamps. The large signs which used to advertise food places were mostly gibberish aside from a few key curves or arches.

    ¡°It¡¯s gotta be him. Kent¡¯s pet murderer wouldn¡¯t let anyone else in. He follows orders even better than you,¡± the Goth responded.

    I didn¡¯t like referring to her as that. She reminded me of someone in high school, but the name Callisto didn¡¯t ring a bell. Her hair had to be dyed because that level of black was unnatural. She might have an Asian background but only her pale skin color matched.

    It was hard to guess because none of us were the same as we had been. Even Leon was nearly alien compared to his prior bus driver uniform. The plate certainly impressed me, when it wasn¡¯t loud.

    ¡°He looks weak,¡± Callisto said.

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Leon responded.

    ¡°Well, we¡¯ve got enough to carry him. With you and Allegra we should be able to navigate this place quickly.¡±

    I didn¡¯t want to admit ignorance and instead worked to figuring out what they meant. Carrying me implied I couldn¡¯t pull my own weight. We were headed into a place with monsters that were probably tougher than the children-sized mini-orcs. Pretty much everything would be.

    Callisto sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know why we¡¯re bothering. We need to run tougher places. We barely get anything here because of the diminishing returns.¡±

    Allegra snorted and shook her head. ¡°We can¡¯t, and him¡¯s listening to us.¡±

    I stiffened. She¡¯d noticed me despite my staring across the street. I¡¯d actually been trying to understand why monsters weren¡¯t roaming the city streets. It was too quiet out here. The sky overhead had been peaceful and barely clouded. Afternoon was turning into outright night.

    There was a deep groove in the road. It dipped along the middle lane and was at least fifteen feet across. It went down the entire street and curled into a round pocket in the middle of an intersection.

    Something had made that indent in the ground. It hadn¡¯t been there while I lived in the neighborhood. Hair on the back of my neck stood as I imagined a serpent or other huge creature sliding along. Snakes did not travel in straight lines.

    ¡°Excuse you.¡± Allegra pulled her clothes tight.

    I shook my head and stared at the dumpy blonde with too many bathrobes. She was in her mid-thirties. The way she wrapped her clothes and stood right under my eyes served to distract me.

    For a moment, all I could think of was bending her over a table and figuring out how loud she could get. I suspected loud, and that those bathrobes covered up a thick set of curves that would give me more than enough to grab onto. My eyes fluttered for a moment and I swear she blushed.

    It was sudden, and out of the blue. I thanked God for the book being over my crotch and clenched my toes.

    ¡°Hello,¡± I said.

    ¡°I¡¯m Allegra. I¡¯ma mender of sorts. Callisto is a warrior¡ª¡±

    Which I¡¯d already gathered but Callisto cut her off anyway. Her annoying way of interrupting triggered further memories.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be helping Leon keep creatures off you. All you need to do is not touch anything purple.¡± She had a tickle to her voice and couldn¡¯t be much older than me. I didn¡¯t look over, for fear of being washed with more uncontrollable thoughts. The rush of thoughts had to be related to this form. If I stayed in this shape for too long, I¡¯d end up running through a neighborhood¡¯s vibrator collection.

    Leon took a deep breath and shuddered. ¡°And I¡¯ll be taking the beatings.¡±

    I closed my eyes briefly and took in a number of scents. Fresh air blew through which contained wild flowers, dampness, and that same sweaty sour smell that had been in the giant¡¯s house. I¡¯d lose my mind soon unless I found a place to peel off this disguise.

    ¡°So, in game terms, tank, damage, and I¡¯ma healer,¡± Allegra said.

    My eyebrows scrunched. They must have felt introducing their roles was important. Turning this into a game made no sense in terms of self-preservation.

    ¡°They¡¯re five or six places like this across the city. They spawn monsters inside that are tougher than the ones outside. But those only stay inside.¡± Leon nodded then continued. ¡°If we can kill the boss inside, it¡¯ll slow spawning monsters here and in this neighborhood.¡±

    That meant they could defeat these centralized locations and take pressure off supply raiding. I saw the advantage of fighting inside easily.

    ¡°They give more rewards too. Lots of orbs. If we¡¯re lucky we can get a few hundred dollars between us. We¡¯ll need it.¡± Leon glanced at the girls then at his feet for a moment. ¡°Mayor Kent believes we¡¯ll need to ration as much as we can.¡±

    ¡°You can ration. I get hungry. Sometimes I just can¡¯t wait to stuff my face with a full sausage.¡± Allegra slowly glanced toward me then went wide eyed and red faced.

    Callisto distracted herself by checking over the weapons she¡¯d grabbed again.

    Leon looked at me and smiled weakly. ¡°You¡¯ll get more than we do.¡±

    ¡°Are you catching any of this? Or did you come back with half a brain?¡± Callisto asked. Metal clinked softly. Her shirt muted some of the chain mail¡¯s noise.

    ¡°Maybe he got something else to make up for it. I can imagine all sorts of mmhm¡­¡± Allegra happily mumbled the last part.

    I blinked and pretended neither of them had insinuated anything. It didn¡¯t help that half a conversation ago I¡¯d imagined bending one of them over. They might be entranced, like I had been back at the giant¡¯s pool.

    ¡°You told me that the world is a God forsaken mess,¡± I said calmly. My religious upbringing made me wince upon using god in a sentence.

    Allegra snorted, laughed and covered her face while searching the bushes for enemies. She stomped a foot and checked the rolls of paper at her side. It wasn¡¯t obvious at first glance, but she had a satchel with a dozen rolled up pieces of poster paper sticking out.

    Callisto chewed on a cheek and set down a huge sword while shaking her head. She kept making trips to the cart and switching weapons but still retained the two shorter blades.

    Leon put on his helmet and grabbed a riot shield and sledge hammer. How he expected to lift it repeatedly was beyond me. Maybe he¡¯d grown stronger, or these orbs they gathered gave them more muscles.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    So, it was a game to them, but death was final. They were clearly outfitted and comfortable with their abilities. I didn¡¯t even have a knife or sword like the one that turned into a black orb.

    ¡°Come on! Load up before you head in. But don¡¯t touch the spring loaded weapons. I¡¯ll be using those to guard the cart if our powders run out.¡±

    Springs functioned. That was helpful to know. I hadn¡¯t really thought about it, but when weapons needed to be made, springs could allow all sorts of options. It should have anyway, without the internet or books in English I couldn¡¯t figure out how to craft a gun. Maybe I could get a crossbow and attach explosive runes to it. Ping pong balls could only go so far.

    They were talking and I needed to pay attention.

    ¡°This is Arson.¡± Leon waved to Arson, who stood on top of the wagon staring down at everyone. ¡°Arson, you know the mist will last long enough to clear this dungeon. After that, you know the rules, if we take longer than two hours, you get back home. We can¡¯t lose resources.¡± Leon gestured to the donkeys.

    ¡°Uh huh,¡± he said. ¡°Nice to know you smart asses care about clearing my dong.¡±

    The newest person was a thin black man with balding hair. He wore a thick sleeveless jacket that might have been from the hunting section of a sports shop.

    ¡°So, what are we calling you? Kent didn¡¯t say anything, but that you were his son,¡± Arson asked.

    The first response didn¡¯t come out. ¡°Err¡­¡±

    ¡°Ear? Nice name but it might be confusing during a fight.¡±

    I debated what to call myself but all the false names that came to mind died somewhere between my brain and vocal cords. Maybe one of the unwritten rules of this would prevented me from lying. It might be this shape, but I hadn¡¯t spoken to many people since ¡®The Event.¡¯

    ¡°Hawthorn,¡± I said. It wasn¡¯t technically a lie. Being able to speak my middle name meant something. It was likely I could have chosen any one of the three names. Hawthorn felt oddly fitting for a brown-skinned form with dark black stiff hair.

    ¡°Blow horn?¡± Arson asked.

    ¡°Hawthorn.¡±

    ¡°Ha Porn, got it. Weirdo,¡± he said. ¡°Who knows what your search history looked like back before.

    ¡°Hawthorn,¡± Callisto repeated. ¡°He¡¯s deaf.¡±

    ¡°Bee¡¯s death?¡± Arson asked and shook his head.

    Callisto shook her head too, and turned to me. ¡°All right. Thorn, because I¡¯m not shouting Hawthorn in a pinch. Your job is to stay in the back and throw whatever you can find at them. You can aim, right? Enough to toss a ball or something?¡±

    ¡°Correct,¡± I said. Throwing stuff was easy.

    Callisto pulled herself over the cart¡¯s edge. Her arms lifted her breasts as she reached for a weapon on the cart¡¯s other side. I managed to close my eyes and ride out another wave of awkwardly ill-timed and certainly filthy thoughts.

    That failed. I thought of anything distraction I could. We were all fairly dirty. Not one of them looked like they¡¯d been to a barber any time recently and the ladies probably had other ideas on their mind beyond shaving.

    Arson pointed to a pile. ¡°Maybe give him the foam guns. Those worked last time, right? We had that one guy using them, and he was getting orbs. Tell me we can give him the tennis balls. I¡¯ve been dying to use them. You know that Kit¡¯s idea of filling them with gasoline won¡¯t pan out. Those bastards probably turned all the gas into plum wine or something.¡±

    Kit had to be another person from before my time. I hoped they were still alive.

    ¡°They¡¯re useless,¡± Callisto and Leon said at the same time. Callisto continued, ¡°Unless we can light them on fire or something.¡±

    ¡°Actually¡­¡± I said slowly.

    ¡°What?¡± Callisto said.

    I hadn¡¯t wanted to give away any secrets but my mouth simply opened on its own. Only confusion stopped me from shouting my skills. The third spell was still beyond me. My first, the explosive, could be reused fairly quickly, provided I was okay feeling dizzy every single shot. Using explosives indoors also sounded like a bad idea.

    ¡°Never mind,¡± I said.

    ¡°Figures. Hey, Leon, your esteemed Mayor¡¯s son is a dud.¡± Callisto shook her head and tucked away four separate blades she¡¯d picked out of the cart. She fit one along her leg, another behind her back. The other two went by her belt. I suspected she was left handed since every single blade could be grabbed from that direction.

    Arson held out a plastic casing with small pellet balls inside. ¡°No, they¡¯re onto something. Take the knock off. It¡¯s got thirty shots, twenty feet, and it won¡¯t kill them if you miss.¡±

    I opened my mouth to ask a question and he shook his head.

    ¡°Don¡¯t ask me why toy guns work but real guns don¡¯t. At least not for us. Those stupid goblins can use guns. Everything about this world is fucked up.¡±

    ¡°Those demons took out explosives too. Mayor Kent sent us into a house of a guy that had dozens of guns and other weapons.¡± Leon pulled off his helmet and checked the inside. He pressed padding into place and continued talking. ¡°None of the stuff worked. Even his grenades. We tested them a dozen times and finally cracked them open. Someone had replaced the gunpowder with candy. Literal candy. The bullets had caramel in them.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s weird,¡± I said.

    ¡°Tits beard?¡± Arson asked.

    ¡°Take the non-lethal stuff. That¡¯ll keep you in the game and getting credit, and won¡¯t kill us,¡± Leon said. He walked to the front door. The sliding doors opened, like any supermarket location would.

    I couldn¡¯t even begin to question why these doors worked when nothing else did. They probably weren¡¯t being operated by technology, but instead functioned like the vending machines. I reminded myself not to shake them, in case they grew spikes to attack offenders with.

    ¡°Stay in the middle. I¡¯ma be right behind you,¡± Allegra said. She pushed me forward while her hands took a moment to wander. I thought inappropriate things and walked a bit stiffer.

    The inside of the supermarket was absolutely nothing like it used to be. It was larger on the inside and that made no sense at all. Which, naturally, meant that the supermarket¡¯s bare shelves and eerie music fit perfectly. I found myself staring at the ceiling wondering what sort of intercom could perfectly drop notes and make pop music sound creepy.

    Allegra pinched my rear and pointed to Callisto. The sword wielder waved her sword around as though snakes were going to leap at us. I could have helped by explaining snakes didn¡¯t leap, but this place felt wrong. There were a few items at the end of each shelf, pinned on strips of plastic.

    ¡°Welcome to supermarket hell. Where the music is always terrible and the monsters are just, weird. We¡¯re here to run you through some place easy so you get stronger, but make no mistake, death is permanent. Stay in the back and throw stuff. Don¡¯t let anything attack you.¡± Callisto shook her head after the long speech. ¡°I mean, even Allegra is probably tougher than you. She can kill four goblins on her own.¡±

    I was not impressed. I¡¯d accidentally blown up three mini-orcs and they were probably the same creature. There was a possibility they were talking about some super soldier breed of creatures but I wouldn¡¯t know unless they told me more. As it was, I¡¯d been woken up, dragged out of bed while hungover, and taken along for a dungeon raid. Sunday mass was kinder than this.

    Leon paced across the four aisles and studied each one. He stopped near the hanging strips. One had a dollar sign and piece of meat depicted. Two had children¡¯s toys. Three had a pizza with ice cubes around it. Four was a baby picture.

    ¡°Which aisle, Allegra?¡± Leon asked while shaking his head.

    Behind me she was looking at an unrolled scroll. I searched for a cash register but found nothing. This was extremely weird.

    ¡°Two?¡± Allegra said.

    ¡°One had the produce packer that almost killed us last time.¡± Callisto pointed with her sword down the row.

    ¡°Never again,¡± Leon said with a shudder. ¡°I¡¯d rather do the frozen food aisle.¡±

    ¡°No. I¡¯ma say two,¡± Allegra insisted.

    The four rows were clearly different, but I still was still adapting to the difference in size inside and slowly turned my attention to the choice of rows. These aisles went on for ages. I couldn¡¯t see an end. In fact, the entrance wasn¡¯t there either. My companions ignored that part and kept their eyes forward.

    ¡°I hate the toy section.¡± Leon ground his teeth, causing the helmet to shake. The other two shook their heads, and Allegra pinched my rear, again, to get me moving forward.

    I lifted a tennis ball in what was hopefully a threatening manner.

    We walked forward. There was a corner to what should have been a straight path. They ignored the absurdity and tiptoed around it while glancing around repeatedly. I stepped after and wondered if my knives would do a darned bit of good. No one had noticed them, or my book, which also struck me as weird. Maybe the alien features were distracting, in the same way I¡¯d barely noticed anything besides the women¡¯s curves.

    ¡°They¡¯re here,¡± Allegra whispered behind me.

    I shivered. She had to say that with a hand on my rear. The world really had gone to hell. No one, before the accident or this reality shifting nonsense, would have been so blatant with a new person. Something about life and death situations might be impacting her sanity.

    She pushed me to the side. ¡°Keep positions! Cali, go!¡±

    Callisto stepped forward. ¡°Leon, daze the right!¡±

    I was pretty sure I¡¯d gone insane. The reason being was simple, in front of me were four overwhelmingly large foam noodles with sharp teeth. They had to be at least twenty feet long with doll arms on their tails.

    Post Note: This is not a euphemism. There were really four long noodles oozing slime. They were brightly colored and apparently ¡®possessed.¡¯ No one took time to explain this to me until much, much later, after we¡¯d nearly died a handful of times.

    ¡°The world has seriously become fucked up in my absence,¡± I said.

    ¡°Mmm-hmmm,¡± Allegra said. She pulled out a rolled up parchment, and held it in front of her face.

    While she did whatever, Leon lifted his sledgehammer. Its top had a tinkling light that grew bright. The four serpents hissed in unison. Callisto took the least complicated approach and dove in slashing. The monsters focused on the illumination from Leon¡¯s weapon.

    I threw a tennis ball. It bounced between two of them and got lost in the long aisles.

    ¡°Good!¡± Leon shouted.

    His rustling armor still annoyed me. I saw past him to where Callisto cut into the monsters. Her swords moved strangely, as if they were going fast and slow at the same time. They had a trail that blurred after them.

    As for Allegra, her roll of thin paper filled with pencil markings. A sketch formed that looked exactly like our enemies. She licked her ring finger and poked one of the foam monster tube snakes. The corresponding monster yowled. Its companions hacked up smaller snakes that swarmed us.

    I threw another tennis ball which collided with a few of the mini snakes. An explosive rune would have taken care of all those smaller creatures. Part of me wanted to show off, but I also remembered the stewardess whispering in my ear to keep my secrets close.

    As I hesitated, the other three managed to bring down all four tube snakes. They turned into bright yellow energy. The orbs zoomed into my book, Leon¡¯s armguard, Callisto¡¯s forehead, and Allegra¡¯s satchel. Their flashing lights reminded me why we were here.

    Traveling together would get me power. I needed more of those orbs to survive and they were sent by my dad¡ªapparently¡ªto help do exactly that. No matter how much I wanted to bed both women, as a result of this stupid form, I didn¡¯t trust they were telling the whole truth. My fingers stayed curled a single step away from the explosive spell. I didn¡¯t know who I¡¯d end up using it on.

 Book 1, Rule 13

    Rule 13

    Beware the Toy Aisle & Strut Effectively

    Statement: Side effects were common with every single gift. Figuring out what they were is how I learned to handle other people. But observing another person¡¯s quirks and figuring out how to control my own was difficult.

    Did the spells cause side effects as well, or was it something else? Every time I used an explosive, part of me giggled happily. When I used the brown-skinned transformation, my libido ramped up. What would the price of the black light spell be? Maybe they simply made it easier to give in to impulses that were already buried¡­

    I wanted to stab one of the monsters to see how tough they were. It was impossible to properly gauge them based on the group¡¯s performance. Leon¡¯s distracting abilities frequently held monsters immobile until the others got in a few attacks.

    We fought more of the foam snakes. Callisto and Leon both huffed heavily by the third wave. The snakes moved and dodged their sluggish swings.

    Leon pushed away from the bent framing. ¡°Hate¡­ the toy¡­ aisle.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t break them walls!¡± Allegra¡¯s voice wavered.

    ¡°I know,¡± Leon shouted.

    One of the snakes dove for him with its head low along the ground. Leon dodged to the side and lost his footing on a second creature that positioned to trip him. They were getting smarter the more we fought them.

    The other two were distracted by a large teddy bear stuffed with bouncy balls. I had no idea what the combination meant, but the balls spilled all over the floor. Callisto cursed as she turned to swipe a snake. The metal clinked and sword spun across the floor.

    Post Note: A sadistic mind dreamed this place up. I have to remind myself that the other three preferred this over the meat aisle.

    I stepped up while drawing a blade from my belt. It sliced downward in a disturbingly smooth motion. The sort-of-snake¡¯s body gave me a little bit of resistance. Its head curled in my direction and hissed. A dozen baby-sized snakes poured onto my head like writhing confetti with teeth.

    ¡°They¡¯re possessed, you see?¡± Allegra said next to me. Her tone had lifted a few octaves as the fights increased.

    Our tank shook. The creature I sawed through yowled again as its body sliced into two chunks. A dozen smaller snakes poured out of its innards and curled upon themselves in death throes. Leon rolled on the floor, fighting with the other half of his enemy¡¯s body.

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t! I hate supermarkets. They¡¯re all stupid,¡± Callisto complained while fighting another two. Her weapon glanced off one of the creatures, tearing only a small chunk out of its tube hide.

    Leon rolled on the ground, grunting. His breath came in labored gasps and body flickered weakly with yellow. The ability was a shield of some sort.

    ¡°This is our third one, they¡¯re all the same,¡± Callisto continued as she pushed back another.

    My knife clearly worked better than her blades. That bothered me since they were from the kitchen. How a mundane weapon outperformed a honed blade was beyond comprehension.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter if you go into a Win Myer or an Albertco, same stuff every time!¡± Callisto turned to help Leon. ¡°And this is still better than¡­¡±

    I¡¯d dispatched two more of the snakes. They were easier to kill than the mini-orcs, especially when they focused on other people. The giant teddy bear raised bouncy ball bleeding limbs and loomed over the tank. Each ball that fell bounced twice then exploded into acid.

    ¡°How¡­?¡± Callisto ignored the impending doom to her companion.

    I didn¡¯t want anyone else to die on my watch, not when they could help me survive later on. There were other reasons too, such as having seen too many people die during the event, or not being sure how to get out of this place.

    Never mind the fact that they worked with Mayor Kent. The name finally rang a bell, Kent was my dad¡¯s first name. No one ever called him by it, everyone simply said ¡°Mister Underwood.¡± Mayor had never been part of his name, and part of me worried about getting my hopes up. The rest of me remembered that dad had never called me since the accident, not once.

    I ran by their stupefied forms, straight for the giant bear lumbering forward. It provided a squeaky growl that sounded like a broken chew toy. I took a breath and aimed for the back of its legs. It was like the creature couldn¡¯t even tell where I stood.

    My knife sank in perfectly but the bouncy balls burst upon contact with my blade¡¯s edge. Sizzling acid ate the metal, I quickly tore my arm left, and grit my teeth to ignore the pain. It hurt. I managed two steps right and used another blade to cut it open.

    I shook and reached inside a pocket for two heavy duty painkillers. The wounds would heal quickly, if my prior experiences were anything to judge by, but the pain would turn me dysfunctional. In fifteen minutes or so I¡¯d be riding a cloud.

    The other two stared at me with their mouths agape, or more specifically where my skin bubbled. I needed better clothes, or plate armor. Leon glanced at the blade, then back at his armor. There was a long scratch on its side where my blade had glanced off to free him from the tube snake. He ran a finger along the newly formed crack. The rest glowed yellow, which must have somehow prevented the acid from splashing onto him.

    ¡°Jesus wept,¡± he muttered.

    ¡°Kent¡¯ll be proud to know his son is a monster too. Look at him, bathing in blood, sort of.¡± Callisto shook her head and flashed me a wide smile.

    I raised an eyebrow, thought wholly uncharacteristic things, such as exactly how she could put that mouth to use, and fingered the last long kitchen knife. She was probably mentally unhinged. There was no blood, only monster parts made out of toys. The dead creatures slowly collapsed into a swath of bright yellow orbs. Dozens came out of each body, far more than the few single mini-orcs I¡¯d taken down.

    The other two shook themselves out of their stupor enough to talk.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    Allegra whispered, ¡°No newbie should be able to slice through Leon¡¯s shield that easily.¡±  She avoided eye contact with me and walked to the plate wearer. ¡°Are you hurt? I¡¯ll heal you.¡±

    Leon shook his head. ¡°No. We need to finish and get out of here so that Mayor Kent will be happy. It¡¯s our orders.¡±

    ¡°Your orders,¡± Callisto said. She pulled her clothes into position. The shirt ripped leaving a new hole. She scowled. Two of the extra small dead snakes had their jaws locked around her chain mail, she yanked them off and dropped their bodies onto the ground. They faded away as the other deceased had.

    The blond man took a deep breath and shuddered. ¡°We¡¯ve got to bring him back. They¡¯re our orders,¡± Leon insisted.

    ¡°If you say so. I hate this place.¡± Callisto lifted a chin to Leon. ¡°Tell me we¡¯re making decent money.¡±

    Leon fumbled with his helmet and brought down the visor. ¡°I¡¯m up fifty eight dollars. You?¡±

    She nodded. ¡°About that.¡±

    I didn¡¯t feel comfortable reviewing my card here with these people. Maybe they¡¯d been half in a daze during the line standing event. People had fought each other and stolen money. None of them could be trusted, despite my desire to find a group to feel secure with. I couldn¡¯t figure out who Callisto reminded me of or what caused Allegra to be so aggressively flirty.

    ¡°The walls,¡± Allegra said. Her color had grown pale. She ruffled one of the large parchments in her hands.

    Leon huffed and addressed the bathrobe wearing woman, ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Pull the walls in line! Don¡¯t let them fall back!¡± Allegra pointed behind me.

    Someone cut across the music, saying, ¡°Cleanup, on, two.¡± With a gargle that made him sound sick. A grunting noise of some hunch backed creature came from the other side of the barricade.

    ¡°Hey. You. Thorn. Help!¡± Callisto shouted.

    I wondered how monsters didn¡¯t hear her and come screaming. Maybe the narrow rows that went on forever had something to do with our limited encounters with monsters. The shelves here went up about twenty feet high and were thick. I hadn¡¯t been given enough time to figure out the logic of this place, but if it was like the line from before, it wouldn¡¯t be normal stuff. We were simply facing a new twist on old insanity.

    ¡°We¡¯re not ready yet. Not yet¡­¡± Callisto muttered. She leaned back, using her weight to pull the shelves upright. Leon lay on the bottom of one of the racks.

    I assumed we weren¡¯t ready for the large creature grunting on the next aisle over. It had to be even taller than the barricade. It snorted, sniffed, and mumbled like a teenage male whining.

    ¡°Thorn, help keep this wall up. Quickly, before he rounds the corner.¡± Allegra kneeled over a map on the floor. A clear line of sight down all seven robes made me gulp.

    I tore myself away and pulled back on the shelves. They warped a bit and visibly changed. The scarring from the giant bear¡¯s bouncy balls of acid turned into smoothed metal with occasional holes to hang product from.

    ¡°Wait for it,¡± Callisto ordered.

    We hung off the walls. Allegra was the first to sigh in relief, right before the intercom cut off a messed up version of Beethoven. ¡°Cleanup canceled.¡±

    ¡°Allie?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re clear. Two more turns and we can hit the end.¡±

    ¡°Any mobs?¡±

    Mobs was a weird word to use. Callisto must have meant monsters. Allegra¡¯s head shook. Leon took a deep breath but refused to get off the floor.

    I said nothing.

    ¡°All right. Allie, check over Leon anyway. He¡¯s clearly exhausted.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m okay. Mayor Kent says we have to avoid wasting resources.¡± Leon protested and weakly slapped away the healer. He rolled to his side and reached for the sledge hammer.

    ¡°Kent¡¯s orders also include staying alive,¡± Callisto said. Her face pinched and the gesture once against struck me as familiar. I couldn¡¯t picture who¡¯d used that disapproving stare on me before. The hair felt wrong.

    Allegra stepped close and laid out a really long piece of paper. Once again pencil markings sketched out a picture, this time of Leon¡¯s body¡ªwithout the armor. She inspected the results with a bored expression.

    She reached into the picture. Her arms turned to pencil lead and slithered along the page. I narrowed my eyes and Callisto stepped between me and Allegra, her hair shook back and forth. I took it as a warning not to get close. Allegra¡¯s drawn arms brushed over jagged spots in the artwork causing it to smooth.

    Soon she¡¯d done something, which I didn¡¯t fully understand but watched with great interest. We continued on to the end of the aisle fighting a few more monsters. The others were no longer surprised when the knife made short work of enemies. I was, still.

    Leon stood between two exit ends of the aisle under a giant glowing two which was still in English. Callisto kneeled next to him and caught her breath. Allegra walked slower, trusting me to take up the rear. Apparently stabbing six monsters in rapid succession, with ease, had caught their attention.

    Post Note: If it had been me, I wouldn¡¯t have let anyone else take up the rear. I would not have trusted a person like myself. I said little, gave away little, and expected nothing in return.

    Allegra pushed past the other two. She glared at Leon then elbowed his armor lightly. ¡°Why¡¯re you all hesitatin¡¯?¡±

    I knew why I¡¯d paused. That Frankenstein monster was outright weird. Someone, whatever evil power fueled this entire nightmare, took three versions of a superhero monster on steroids and patched them together. They added a smock, illegible name tag, and an ugly snowman tie. He stood near a beat-up register and wiped the counter while mumbling.

    ¡°This one has a cashier,¡± Leon said.

    I¡¯d done a stint working a register to this very same corner market during my teens. It was hard to think about considering how alien the place had become. Eight months of hell that still beat the fast food work before it.

    ¡°We¡¯re lucky it¡¯s just a clerk. A friend of mine ran into a night manager at another store. It was terrible. The boss used a coupon scanner to disembowel him,¡± Callisto said. She stepped back behind Leon. Our tank, such as he was, shuddered.

    ¡°I hate being the tank.¡± He mumbled. ¡°I hate getting hit. I hate monsters.¡± Leon banged his armored arm with the other fist. The gold aura which let him fight off monsters flickered to life and enveloped his torn up riot shield.

    Callisto mocked. ¡°Mayor Kent wants you to keep his baby monster son safe.¡±

    ¡°This¡¯ll be tough,¡± Leon said.

    ¡°We have to do it,¡± she responded.

    Leon frowned. ¡°The last time we lost two people.¡±

    ¡°You said we could do this with a healer.¡± Callisto looked back at Allegra then toward the giant in front of us.

    Allegra frowned but dug through her dwindling pouch. She didn¡¯t seem able to reuse the papers after a picture was drawn and affected.

    ¡°She¡¯s the best we have,¡± Callisto said.

    ¡°I know. Mayor Kent said bring him here. I follow orders.¡± Leon closed his eyes and moved his lips. He lifted the shield and winced. A follow up, much quieter than the first, ¡°That¡¯s all we can do.¡±

    Allegra eye¡¯s briefly tightened, she glanced down and shook her head. She put a hand on Leon¡¯s shoulder and said, ¡°That arm¡¯s almost broken. I mended about half the damage but after the last round, you¡¯re still on threads. Use a potion. We can¡¯t risk you dying here.¡±

    Their talking annoyed me and I¡¯d had a lot of time to reconsider my options. They knew I was good with a knife and that scared them. They were loyal to a man who claimed to be my father. Therefore being more powerful than they expected would help this man who had assisted me. I had to hope they wouldn¡¯t strike me in a moment of weakness either, but they¡¯d dived in front of monsters to keep me alive.

    The book¡¯s pages slid open without a sound. I pooled light onto fingertips and charged a spell while the three of them dithered about resources. My head swam for a moment as the world narrowed to a sucking sensation that funneled out of an arm. I managed to shake the spell off onto a tennis ball. This projectile would not survive to be reused, as the prior ones had.

    It was no longer worth hiding another ability. Not when there were prizes to be gained. I¡¯d traveled with them for about an hour fighting waves of monsters and creeping along. They believed me to be a monster, and had said so twice.

    I would embrace that role but show myself to be on their side. Plus the cashier knew we were here. It frequently looked up at us and muttered uncouth slurs about flaky customers. There was a certain logic to the cashier waiting for us at a register and not aggressively attacking as the toys had.

    ¡°Get ready.¡± I coughed halfway through the words and repeated myself.

    ¡°For what?¡± Callisto asked.

    Leon shook his head and automatically stepped forward. He was really good at following orders. Or my status as Mayor Kent¡¯s son, which I was unsure of, put me higher on the chain of command.

    Allegra was the only one to turn to me. Her mouth made an ¡®o¡¯ shape that almost caused my thoughts to falter. I managed to toss the tennis ball straight for the cashier.

    The tennis ball exploded well before reaching the twisted behemoth of a cashier. His body blew to one side, sending him skidding into another register.

    Leon turned back at me and nodded. His face looked wet through the eye slits of his helmet, but he ran forward.

    ¡°You have grenades? That work?¡± Callisto asked.

    ¡°Go!¡± Allegra shouted and waved her companion on.

    My first two attempts at answering were lies.

    ¡°Of a sort,¡± I said. That was close enough to the truth. The other three were already in battle. I rigged a second tennis ball with my explosive rune.

 Book 1, Rule 14

    Rule 14

    Buy Supplies & Raiders Have Explosives

    Statement: Mini-orcs wore children¡¯s clothes and swung pieces of broken furniture. Their leaders wielded shotguns like angry pint-sized rednecks. Vending machines gave out healing potions in exchange for fictional money. The ¡®boss¡¯ resembled a store employee. Tougher bosses apparently included their management. All of these details were half mundane, and half fantasyland.

    I¡¯ve asked myself a thousand times while trying to stay sane; why do the monsters in this new world resemble creatures from our own? Was there a connection? What sort of power was required to take people out of normal reality or alter the old world to such a degree? The more radical considerations were outright dangerous¡ªwas I imagining this as a solo adventure, or had humanity been looking at reality all wrong?

    The cashier outright ignored Callisto¡¯s sword swings. Her blades moved unevenly and sometimes clinked twice in one motion. I found myself watching the spinning blades while Leon lifted his shield to deflect a meaty fist.

    ¡°Pay the bill!¡± it yelled in a high-pitched whiny voice.

    Allegra knelt with a fresh sketch. There were five figures on it in tiny markings. All four of us, and the boss monster, were depicted. She ran a finger across the lead and mumbled in low tones I couldn¡¯t hear over the battle.

    ¡°Daze!¡± Callisto yelled followed by a ¡°Crap.¡±

    Callisto¡¯s body traveled with an intense blur of motion that left her sweating. She stopped ten feet away and the monster¡¯s large hands slammed empty ground.

    ¡°Ogre variant! We need firah or lightning,¡± Allegra said.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have fire,¡± Leon said.

    I threw another tennis ball. The cashier flinched and glanced my way. Leon stepped in with his hammer swinging wide. It smashed into the monster¡¯s face knocking out two teeth. Callisto took three quick breaths and ran back in. The monster recovered and backhanded her away.

    One of her swords clattered against the ground. She ignored any pain and recovered the sword before the boss monster reached her. Callisto was tough, a blow like that would have cracked a dozen ribs and she acted like being beat was simply standard.

    They exchanged a few more rounds of blows. I tossed around the tennis balls but the monster kept glancing my direction. It hadn¡¯t forgotten me like the other creatures.

    Each of them was simplistic in their moves. Leon mesmerized the boss. It lasted longer on the tube snakes. Leon¡¯s yellow aura hardened into solid light to help block the monster¡¯s blows.

    Callisto moved with bursts of speed that left behind smeared after images.

    As for our enemy, he seemed to be mostly physical, until he ran for a stack of large plastic bags. He ripped them off a metal rack and tossed them at Callisto. The second one caught her blades and tightened.

    I intercepted a third with one of my tennis balls.

    ¡°Thorn, you got another bomb?¡± Allegra asked. She directed us from outside the battle. Her eyes focused on the large sheet of paper.

    It took me a moment realize Thorn referred to me. I glanced around. Casting in the middle of a fight caused me to lose focus. When prepared ahead of time, like the jar, they worked better, or as opening barrages.

    ¡°Daze!¡± I called for it. Leon automatically lifted his hammer. The giant cashier lumbered over.

    The boss smashed huge ham-sized fists onto Leon¡¯s shield. ¡°We don¡¯t have change for a fifty!¡±

    Leon¡¯s yellow flickered. He grunted and was forced down to a knee. The attempt at stunning had failed. Our ¡°tank¡± had moved on to being pummeled by an empty plastic bag rack. Callisto couldn¡¯t pull attention away from the collision. An explosive rune would hit them all.

    ¡°Leave before I call the cops!¡± He turned, exposing a back riddled with slashes from Callisto¡¯s swords. Green blood oozed from the wounds. That was our opportunity.

    Dizziness struck me as I curled fingers into another spell. ¡°Back!¡±

    Leon whimpered but managed to kick away. Callisto turned and ran in a blur. The sucking sensation made me go blank with a snapshot of her form in my head. Callisto¡¯s body froze at the height of one motion and collapsed into a new location, dozens of feet away. I shuddered before throwing the latest bomb.

    The boss had reached a wall and had it partially lifted to his face. My bomb blew up the phone and part of the cash register. Coins and torn up bucks¡ªdollar bills, complete with a grinning madman on the front, fluttered wildly through the air. Leon gasped and shuddered behind his shield. His eyes were still visible through the helmet¡¯s visor and one side of his white skin had been darkened by liquid.

    This would work. I¡¯d decided, more than once, to risk it all for big enough rewards, a boss this tough simply had to have some special ability. The possible gain made me feel better about revealing my explosives.

    The monster reeled. I saw a chance to end the battle. We couldn¡¯t afford to goof around fighting back one monster. I had to hope the lethality with bladed weapons was also part of my skills. There hadn¡¯t been enough time to really figure out the link.

    My last kitchen knife wouldn¡¯t get far on that person¡¯s hide. Eight inches only worked on normal-sized humans and the ladies. One of Callisto¡¯s surviving swords lay on the ground. I ran for it and fumbled to gather energy for another explosion spell. My body swayed to the side as the spell drew my mind to a nub.

    Only the creature¡¯s back existed. I jumped, poorly, and managed to jab the sword¡¯s handle into a wound. It sank straight in to the hilt. The monster roared in a high-pitched wheeze. We spun. I could still barely see what was happening. My chest burned and both arms strained.

    Three spells in a row was clearly pushing it. I struggled to retain focus. The monster buckled on one leg and threw objects all around. I felt myself slip further down with each bunching of his over developed shoulder muscles. A long line of green oozed all over the handle making it slippery.

    ¡°It¡¯s working!¡± Allegra shouted.

    ¡°Okay.¡± My throat hurt.

    The sword in my hands had terrible leverage. I fought for grip. These shoes refused to stick. The huge monster jerked his body to the side and grabbed bottles of soda from an end cap. It hadn¡¯t been there a moment ago.

    They went everywhere. Soda hissed a screwy undertone. The music swelled. My eyes rolled as the latest explosion spell flung off one hand onto my other. There it popped with a muted boom. It made no sense and my palm burned.

    I felt each piece of a lattice work pattern dig into my skin. Nails dug and skin welted or caved. The monster pumped his arms, grabbing soda bottles and beating everything. Allegra yelled gibberish.

    I hurt. My hand slammed into the creature¡¯s back. The heat went critical. I screamed. The monster screamed. Everything bled together and my head pounded. My stomach lurched as the world grew distant.

    There was a moment, a single moment, when I saw the ceiling lights up close. I reached out to touch them but gravity pulled me back. My arc ended with a jerking bounce and flopping onto something soft.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    My chest kept lifting. Noises were still coming out of me. I rolled to my knees and clutched my elbow.

    The world clicked. I stared at my arm as if it were another person¡¯s limb. The fingers were red but barely hurt. Red, black, and glowing green lanced up to the shoulder.

    It didn¡¯t hurt as much anymore. Allegra shook me. I waited for the adrenaline to vanish and my arm¡¯s real pain to register. What had happened would simply be a precursor to real agony that would never end. The spell must have glommed onto my skin, which was an absolutely terrifying fact to know.

    The light from above dimmed. I glanced up. Only three of the lights above remained lit, while dozens had gone out completely. I stared at them instead of my arm. Looking at the ruined skin would make me panic. I found myself studying the other.

    Our foe lay on the ground wheezing. ¡°All sales¡­ are final.¡± The cashier¡¯s eyes lost focus as his mouth slackened. Leon¡¯s hammer collided with the monster¡¯s head, popping it like a melon.

    ¡°He¡¯s down!¡± Callisto¡¯s words registered slowly. She threw her head back and gasped for air.

    They had said they were carrying me through this place. They had implied they had enough strength to handle it all. They were bluffing. This world was hades.

    We all held our breath as the boss monster turned into multiple white orbs. They flew into our various items. They stayed still with weapons at the ready. I looked around, worried that this fight hadn¡¯t ended there.

    The store was dead. Behind us were empty isles. Whatever magic distorted the lanes had vanished. I mourned the biggest casualty of this place, my shredded arm. Pieces of bone could be seen and my fingernails were nowhere to be found. It itched and squiggled. My arm kept trying to move fingers but the sickening twitching feeling grossed me out.

    Post Note: As impossible as it seems, my body was cutting off pain sensors, or muting them. I would soon learn more about my abilities from an¡­ unlikely source. Needless to say, it surprised me.

    I slipped and spoke my mind. ¡°Are there really cops?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Leon¡¯s armor was dented. Blood dripped out from under the helmet and trickled along his chest piece. He had been beat rather soundly. His body had to be insanely durable.

    ¡°There¡¯s worse,¡± Callisto said for him. Her hair was matted. She picked up blades and frowned at them.

    Their clothing had been weird for a bunch of fighters. I wondered why Callisto didn¡¯t have a chain mail helmet to go with her chest piece. Then again, I had absolutely no armor but a few jackets. My untested skills had helped me, so far. I would need to invest in armor to go with all the other abilities I didn¡¯t have.

    It was this sort of analytical thinking which helped me forget about the terrible damage to my arm. My legs hurt as well. That last blow had caused all sorts of damage, far more than the giant or mini-orcs.

    ¡°How much money?¡± Callisto asked.

    ¡°One hundred, for the kill. But we need tah move quickly,¡± Allegra said. Her robes were drenched in sticky soda that would soon dry. We needed to get her out of those clothes soon.

    I gulped. The desperate woman yelling at her giant husband had been, eager, after weeks or months dealing with a changed shape. The impulse of this power would drown me if I didn¡¯t drop it soon.

    ¡°Experience?¡± Callisto¡¯s focus was daunting.

    Once again, Allegra answered. ¡°Fifteen for us. Thorn got thirty.¡±

    I tilted my head. They¡¯d mentioned collecting the orbs but it sounded weird to have an actual rating. A jolt of pain jerked my arm and I stopped trying to stand up. The ground hurt far less. Nausea twisted my insides. Staying home would have been wiser. Avoiding these ¡°dungeons¡± would be part of my future action plans.

    There hadn¡¯t been a single hint of any special powers in the dissolving body. I had no idea what fifteen orbs amounted to but it seemed pathetic compared to offing a slew of mini-orcs.

    ¡°It¡¯s on the paper. It lets me peek on some stuff. I think, if I get enough orbs I can start really checking out all your secrets.¡± Allegra smiled at me and winked.

    I smiled back and panicked internally. My arm kept sending jolts of agony and each one felt like a precursor to falling on the ground and frothing. I expected to be a mental wreck and weak beyond belief.

    To the best of my knowledge, games had all sorts of skills. I remember drowning in numbers, talents, and other gibberish. Football was a far simpler game to play online. But during this fight I¡¯d watched a woman sink her arm into paper and work literal magic. Having a way to measure my stats, whatever they were, didn¡¯t feel beyond reason.

    It was extremely uncomfortable. Allegra offered to heal other people but she wasn¡¯t doing anything for me. I stared as they rather orderly cleaned up their gear and picked at the body. Leon recovered a name tag from the dead monster and beamed happily.

    Callisto nodded to him. ¡°Okay. We can buy supplies at the machine. One spawned, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s there by the exit. The prices are probably terrible though.¡±

    ¡°Any of the status cures?¡± she said.

    Allegra walked over to a vending machine. She pointed at the plastic covering. ¡°One.¡±

    ¡°Buy it. We¡¯ll dilute it and give it to the farmers.¡± Callisto seemed to enjoy giving orders. She was the only one who kept the process moving forward.

    ¡°I know,¡± Leon said. ¡°It takes sixty dollars for a single potion. It¡¯s not worth it.¡±

    He pulled off his helmet and dug bandages out from under his armor. Each moment was slow, as if the positions hurt. He didn¡¯t show much compared to the blood everywhere. I had no healing skills, that I was aware of, and couldn¡¯t help any of them. My next goal was to find some first aid training guide to translate.

    Allegra said, ¡°We need fresh potions to keep the others healthy. Not everyone got buffs or had enough to purchase a reward. And you know most of them spent their money during the first few weeks.¡±

    Callisto shook her head. ¡°Sure they did. Those liars.¡± She sighed and tore off her shirt. It was utterly rigid. The acid from before had burned holes into it and pieces of the chain mail were melted. I couldn¡¯t moan about my arm after seeing that much damage being done to the others.

    ¡°We can¡¯t keep risking our lives in these damn dungeons. What about Thorn?¡± Callisto lifted the links and poked at pink skin. She hissed with each press but managed not to cry out like I had. Leon pointed at an unseen object. He shook his head.

    ¡°He¡¯s healing,¡± Allegra said quietly. ¡°On his own.¡±

    Callisto stopped giving orders and stared at me.

    ¡°Is it anything he can share?¡±

    I held still and tried not to imagine her with that chain mail on the floor. It was stupid but part of my brain screamed about how easy it was to see her breasts. They were full, heavy, and high on a well-muscled chest. The dyed hair only served as beautiful framework.

    A bright light flashed by the doors. It distracted me from hearing any further words and thankfully broke the narrow line of thinking my mind was reduced to.

    ¡°Did you see that?¡± Allegra said.

    Leon shook his head and shuddered. He put the helmet back on and muttered quietly. His battered shield lifted slowly.

    ¡°We can¡¯t stay here. The boss is dead. Thorn, Mayor Kent wanted us to explain as much as we can. So, it¡¯s important for you to know that places like this sometimes change after a boss is defeated. Monsters from the outside can get in, and the raiders can skip straight to us. There¡¯s no aisles to fight through anymore.¡±

    I hadn¡¯t heard an alarm. There hadn¡¯t been much room in my head to notice after my arm was used in a kamikaze assault. The others gathered near the sliding door but didn¡¯t step outside. They stayed back against the wall. It looked silly to me since Leon¡¯s body kept flickering with yellow light.

    ¡°What about Arson? Did he leave already?¡± Callisto asked.

    That was a good question I wish I¡¯d thought of. Callisto¡¯s mind worked disturbingly quick, especially when it came to asking about other people or resources. I wondered if that was one of her abilities or she was a naturally caring person about those in her group.

    ¡°He should have left already. He would have noticed their stupid truck pulling up and left while the fumes are still running. They still hide him, for now. He should be able to get with the cloaking.¡±

    ¡°Truck?¡± I asked while staggering over. My body moved with more fluidity than my brain felt.

    ¡°Magic. Enchantments,¡± Allegra whispered. She was the most helpful person so far.

    ¡°Why can¡¯t he stay for us?¡± It was as though a floodgate had opened. Having a battered hand, even if the shorter woman believed it to be healing, put me on edge.

    ¡°We¡¯re moving too slow and need to buy as much as we can.¡±

    Leon and Callisto were near the vending machine. It resembled all the ones from my time in the line. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was possible to use the device as a trap. The thought of casting another explosive rune made my stomach curl.

    I stood still and suffered through each fresh tingle of pain. My stomach growled. These clothes were ruined and all my other ones were at home.

    I stepped close to the doorway and reviewed the parking lot. A giant truck peeled through the area with a complete disregard for the lines. It had armored sides and thick wheels that were doubled up in the back. There were no engine sounds, only light that overpowered the area.

    There were raiders. That felt disturbingly normal for a world gone to hell.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I asked while pointing at the truck. A man was in the back with a huge barrel over his shoulder.

    That struck me as downright strange. I stared at the probable weapon without comprehension. If this had been an action movie I would have called that a rocket launcher. However, technology was busted here.

    ¡°Oh no,¡± Allegra whispered.

    Callisto¡¯s head jerked up. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°They brought Toymaker.¡±

    Callisto cursed wildly.

    Leon shook his head and deflated. The sight of his armor sagging worried me.

    Outside the raiders yelled at each other.

    ¡°Get back!¡± Allegra shouted.

    The raiders were coming to an agreement. Four men poured out of the truck¡¯s rear and prepared to come in through the front door. They stood far enough back to avoid me blowing them all up at once.

    Then I had another idea, a stupid one. But my life was full of ill planned goals that only felt intelligent at the time. I ran across the doorway and wedged myself between the possibly murderous vending machine and a nearby cash register.

    There was a hiss of noise, loud enough to be heard through the closed sliding glass doors. The other three were running for the store¡¯s rear. I put my feet against the vending machine¡¯s side and pushed. Long spikes quickly grew and crept toward my legs.

    I pushed harder. The vending machine tipped over, and something crashed into the doors. There was a boom as an explosion sent debris across the room. I blinked once.

    The vending machine had moved. I witnessed a single moment where the machine had an angry face behind all the buyable goodies. Then the explosion reached me. For a second time, I learned what it was like to be next to an explosion.

    And it hurt. My mind went white.

 Book 1, Rule 15

    Statement: At this point, I¡¯d encountered five different humans who also survived ¡®The Event.¡¯ Each of them were changed and different. Some were obvious, such as the giant¡¯s laziness or his wife¡¯s frantic and overclocked libido. The others were harder to pin down. Leon¡¯s reluctance to be in his current role, Allegra¡¯s pencil markings and layers of clothing. These things weren¡¯t normal behavior¡ªtheir changes were more subtle.

    There was a price for every power. Does that price make us more primal, that is to say; more in touch with who we are at the core? Is it this world that does this? Is it simply what happens to humans when they¡¯re tossed into new situations? I had never expected this sort of situation to be a ¡®quiz¡¯ in my life, and feel like I spent most of high school studying for the wrong test.

    People shouted. I couldn¡¯t distinguish one voice from the other. Powder was everywhere and I heard a low rumble. Loud words were broken up by even louder laughter.

    Confession: I lost time here. It was only a few seconds, but by the time I¡¯d come to, the situation had changed radically. A tougher man should have stayed coherent. Sadly, durability is not in my gifts.

    The members of my temporary group were talking but I couldn¡¯t separate who said what.

    ¡°The raiders!¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s Kent¡¯s son?¡±

    ¡°We have to hide.¡±

    ¡°Not without Thorn. He¡¯s the whole point of coming this far.¡±

    ¡°Speak for yourself. I knew we needed the potions.¡±

    They had to be close by. Their tone aggravated me. They barely even used my name. Kent¡¯s son, that¡¯s all I was to them. They were like mindless sheep following a man¡¯s orders.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± one of the women shouted. A second explosion rocked the wall behind me. Rubble went everywhere. There was a vending machine standing nearby.

    It might have been a trick but the vending machine only moved when I blinked. My eyes weren¡¯t staying open long enough to find out. Dust kept stinging me. Both arms burned. There was this tingle, a nagging one from my pinky toe which overpowered the real pain. It made me need to pee.

    Something in my neck popped. Words distorted. Laughter, loud and deranged sounding came from multiple sources.

    ¡°Find him, and we have to pull back!¡± Callisto said.

    It sounded like they were right next to me, but my neck couldn¡¯t move. I was unable to raise a finger or lift my chest. Each attempt caused me to wheeze.

    ¡°We can¡¯t stay. We have to get to a safe house.¡± Allegra was much harder to pick out. Their words rang at longer angles, which made no sense.

    ¡°Is that him?¡± Leon whispered. There was a scuffle and the sound of hushed shouting. Callisto and Leon argued while Allegra stepped closer. I could see them moving from narrow holes between the barrels.

    I knew exactly where I was. My body was covered by an empty container that used to house propane. Wooden barrels were scattered all over me.

    The vending machine was a silent killer. While the bandits screamed and fired off abilities, it moved between them. People¡¯s parts simply disappeared.

    ¡°Nix! Do your thing, woman,¡± a voice bellowed. ¡°Otherwise you¡¯re going back to the whore house with your sister!¡±

    The man¡¯s voice alone made me feel violated. Skin around my neck would have crawled away if it were able to. Perhaps it did and I simply couldn¡¯t tell anymore. The thick dust lining my throat didn¡¯t help, nor the tirade of filthy thoughts. This form made it hard to stay sane.

    I groaned while wiggling an arm. The pressure lightened and I shifted my sight to one side. Fingers grabbed my arm and pulled. I didn¡¯t have enough breath to scream. Allegra stopped then knelt in front of me. Her robe was dirtier than ever. I managed to turn my head. There was a small hole in one of the walls.

    ¡°Thorn, can you escape?¡± she asked. The others waved hands through the wall.

    I shook my head. There were too many objects. My body felt broken. I knew what that felt like. They¡¯d have to carry me out and that was impossible. Dragging me would only increase the damage, and cause me to bleed more.

    ¡°Okay. Keep quiet. The raiders might miss you. Stay safe. We¡¯ll double back once it¡¯s clear.¡±

    The barrel shifted off my chest a little, enough for me to breathe. My chest heaved to get air but dust in my throat made it difficult.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be close. Leon¡¯s barely conscious. Callisto, she wouldn¡¯t let ¡¯em die or risk a potion to save you,¡± Allegra said. ¡°The raiders may find you. They may take you.¡± There was a crunching sound. The raiders still fought an evil vending machine. I felt like that one move had bought us time, but I didn¡¯t know how tough those things were compared to powered people with rocket launchers.

    ¡°Stay alive,¡± she whispered.

    My eyelids fluttered. There was only one question to ask a time like this. I smiled and felt my ears lift a good inch. Pain hit and I spit up something. My arm worked a little now that she¡¯d removed one of the heavy barrels. ¡°Do they give orbs?¡±

    She tilted her head down at me. I struggled to think of something normal, like survival. Instead those damn robes were burned through and she wore less than before. She had a body like an hourglass. My mouth watered.

    ¡°Stay alive. You have to do that.¡±

    I wondered how many explosive spells it might take.

    She bit her lip and ran for the hole in the wall. The women whispered to each other but the raiders were louder. There was a crash followed by a keening whine that somehow made me think of a dying puppy and a tire losing air.

    ¡°Nix! You used too much and broke the machine. Now the boys can¡¯t tie it down. We¡¯re going to have to find another one.¡± The invasive deep rumble of the leader only knew how to speak loudly. The others laughed.

    Bright lights poured in through the broken windows. I jerked and attempted to hide in the pile. Hopefully whatever ability I had which let mini-orcs and other monsters ignore me would kick in.

    ¡°Look at this place, there¡¯s shit here. Why waste those babies on the dungeon?¡± a high pitched person said.

    ¡°Because someone cleared it,¡± the deep voice responded. ¡°If we just had a fucking person with a map. But no, no that bitch Allegra went and joined Kent¡¯s cowards.¡±

    Long shadows stretched into the building. People swept to the right and combed over the aisle. They showed no fear or hesitation. They all wore the same mishmash of clothes. It was like no one here had a proper wardrobe.

    ¡°Toy! Amp them lights. Sweep every wall for leftover prizes. I want to be out of here in three minutes.¡±

    Those bright lights intensified. One hit the edge of my entrapping cover. It was strange, because I¡¯d been under the impression that vehicles simply didn¡¯t work. It didn¡¯t matter, I was buried under supplies against one wall. Near me was the hole the others had vanished through.

    These people were probably ruthless when it came to survival. I assumed they came here to pick on easy victims, rob them¡ªus¡ªand maybe even get access to the vending machine. They might have intended to make purchases as well, but firing rockets at us felt more like a preemptive strike.

    I suddenly wanted a potion. The single one I¡¯d had poured one me worked wonders. If I was naturally healing and used a potion too, that might be even better.

    The raiders whooped. Their leader, or the loudest, held up a tube that amplified his voice. He repeatedly barked a noise that caused my back to shiver.

    The barrels on me shifted. Something snapped. Sound dimmed and my head swam. That one crunch sent me reeling back in time to the car accident. I shuddered and a struggled not to cry out. I¡¯d felt this way before. My leg was definitely broken.

    I assumed sex would help distract me. The idea rolled around a few times before I realized this alternate form needed to go. Raiders shuffled through everywhere and I was making too much noise. In a spy thriller, this would have been close to deactivating a cell phone ringer. It would be difficult to hide from raiders if the slightest rub against my crotch kept me moaning for all the wrong reasons.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    My fingers functioned more than the joint. The arm didn¡¯t move right but I needed to deactivate this spell somehow. I pulled my hand into position and found the marking which bound my new form to me. Recent holes in my clothing made it harder to move.

    Post Note: It was the pressure. I was broken all over again and still fighting back a curse. Recall that I mentioned how the other woman¡ªwhose name I never learned¡ªcould only talk about sex even while dying.

    The spell peeled away and faded into nothing. My body shivered in release. Everything became duller than it had been. The pain, lights, and our supermarket battlefield. I gulped again and managed to swallow a lump of dust that sent me into a coughing fit. I tried to be quiet. The effort was unsuccessful.

    Post Note: I later learned that there were people with oracular abilities¡ªthat is to say they could ¡°see¡± the future. This seems silly to me, because I felt, at times like this, that anyone could ¡°see¡± me getting caught.

    ¡°Well, what do we have here?¡± a man said. I looked up to see an entirely too excited man staring down at me. His face was bloodied and teeth were missing. When he grinned, a waft of foul air escaped.

    Pressure pushed down on my other leg. I couldn¡¯t contain my cries anymore.

    ¡°Found a rat!¡±

    I felt stupid for being compared to a rat. He could have used a less stereotypical slur. A cockroach might have been more fitting. My arm and legs felt better already. Allegra had been right, I was healing. Deactivating the spell helped somehow.

    Two other figures charged into view. A set of rough hands pulled at the fallen supplies boxing me in. People shouted about what they found but nothing sounded impressive. They were likely looking for treasures, in the same manner I¡¯d raided that giant¡¯s house. This was my reprisal for being cutthroat.

    I didn¡¯t fully understand what was happening when people pulled me out of the mess. They grabbed parts of my body which only registered pain. I reached for pills but came up empty. My bag of stuff hadn¡¯t made it with me.

    The sudden change my made head swim and eyelids fluttered. I shook. My heartbeat thudded weakly. The people who had been clear were now blurry. I could feel my toe and it hurt, tingled, went numb, and repeated the cycle.

    They pulled me out of the store while asking questions. I struggled to hear any of them and failed. It was as though my body was trying to shut down but these people wouldn¡¯t let me. I faded in and out.

    I drifted to when they dumped me onto the truck bed. There was no rumble of an engine. The back had been gutted and the only thing nice was a sprayed out bedding. It felt disturbingly normal.

    ¡°It¡¯s here!¡±

    I groaned. Apparently that was funny because two of the people in the back laughed. Another kicked my head. The nasty voice that made me feel slime covered barked orders.

    A foot slammed into my head again. I moved an arm and discovered my limbs responded easier. A bunch of people were around with all sorts of clothing. One man had black face paint under his eyes like a football player. Then the truck¡¯s lights went off and we were silently cruising down the street, far beyond the recommended speed limit. It felt like a nightmare.

    ¡°Down, Rogers! Go!¡± They were being too loud. The monsters would hear us. Even a mini-orc would be able to figure out where we were, and they were stupid.

    ¡°It¡¯s still on us.¡±

    ¡°Take Clements and Fifth, we¡¯ve still got the traps there, right?¡± The truck jerked left. My body slammed into the side and a muffled groan escaped.

    ¡°Busted two days ago,¡± a man whispered.

    ¡°Shit.¡±

    ¡°Nix, make yourself useful.¡± He gestured to the creature chasing us.

    I reached for the book but my arm felt numb. It was impossible to tell if I¡¯d touched the page for my explosive rune. A constant wall of new sensations assaulted me. I felt hair regrowing. It itched, tingled, and made me shiver.

    ¡°I¡¯m out,¡± a woman¡¯s voice said. ¡°Used both strikes on the vending machine.¡±

    ¡°Which still died.¡±

    ¡°Your fault,¡± Nix responded. A hollow absence to her voice might have been a result of my screwed up situation. She¡¯d only spoken a few sentence and seemed loath to speak more.

    There was a crack of noise. A face hit the floor near mine. For a second I stared into dead eyes. She hardly noticed my presence. Thin strands of sherbet dyed hair hung over her face. An obscenely muscled arm yanked her back up.

    ¡°Find more energy, and hit it, before it eats us all,¡± the slimy-voiced man said.

    I groaned and managed to turn my neck. Something large and slobbering was behind us. Its teeth gnashed and the people in our car jostled each other around. They were strangely resolute, as if they¡¯d done this a dozen times before.

    The man who sounded like a pig was actually anything but. His form was huge and mostly muscle. He wore a baseball helmet along with sunglasses, at night. It made about as much sense as the rest of his people, who wore football helmets with sticks all over their sides.

    Others were in the front cab. At least five people had crammed into the seats. I couldn¡¯t tell how they drove the vehicle but it probably wasn¡¯t motorized. No sounds of an engine idling or pistons turning. It had to be magical in nature, which meant it followed rules I barely started to understand.

    ¡°Hey, new guy¡¯s moving!¡±

    I hated the man for tattling on me. Someone also deserved hate for unleashing rockets into the storefront after we¡¯d defeated the place. There were at least two explosions, maybe more, that had bombed the area around us.

    Post Note: This is a good a place as any to stick this note in. I¡¯m still unsure exactly what destroying a ¡®dungeon¡¯ location does. Somehow they¡¯re tied to monsters spawning in the area, but what happens if the dungeon is killed? Are monsters spawning uncontrollably, or do they stop all together? Does it simply change locations?

    Their leader didn¡¯t care about me. He turned in my direction briefly and dismissed me. ¡°So?¡±

    His voice felt vile.

    ¡°He¡¯s going for something. It¡¯s all fuzzy though. Shit.¡± One of the men poked me. Another stomped on my arm. I grunted in fresh pain that quickly turned off.

    ¡°What are you after?¡±

    I wiggled my fingers but couldn¡¯t tell if they worked. They had no sensations of pain. My body had turned off every single nerve but still functioned. It helped, because above all, I didn¡¯t want to be in lingering pain like the car accident had left me.

    As for my surroundings; the truck bed was crowded, even with some standing. My eyesight was fuzzy but I finally got my first sight of the monster chasing us. It had huge teeth, extra eyes, and three heads. I¡¯d swear it was a multi-headed dragon or similar. I¡¯d never been one for the fantasy world, keeping to movies with friends, so its exact name escaped me.

    Its mouth was large. Hundreds of teeth in multiple rows. The creature moved fast, but we were going quicker.

    Being upright caused dizziness. I swooned while staring at the raider¡¯s leader. His large gaping mouth flattened at me. The stubble and tanned skin made for an extra gruff face. I couldn''t figure out why he disturbed me so much.

    ¡°You got something?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ll stop it,¡± I muttered.

    ¡°You think you can stop it?¡±

    I nodded.

    ¡°Well ain¡¯t that a kick. Go for it, freshman, let¡¯s see what you got,¡± the man said. He slapped me on the back and my feet staggered. Two large men held me up. We swayed as the truck rounded another corner.

    I opened my eyes and wondered how anyone could go through a city at such high speeds. No other cars were on the road and this high pace would be exhilarating if my brain could focus enough.

    The man who made me feel gross smiled. He adjusted a ball cap and twisted it backward. He pointed at the creature charging wildly after us. ¡°Aim carefully. Anything funny and you¡¯ll get stabbed.¡±

    ¡°Uh huh,¡± the person behind me said. He probably smiled. I wanted to feel my fingers. They came to life and screamed in pain. I found myself yelling and felt a blade in my back.

    My fingers crawled into the book¡¯s pages and pooled red energy onto the tips. My hand came up and fingers curled. A bolt behind my eye made me lose focus and I grunted. It hurt, despite the apparent numbness of my body.

    My fingers weren¡¯t moving right. I ignored the other¡¯s words regarding my stupidity. The monster got closer but my eyes were unable to focus. It was as if he barely existed. It was yet another creature in this world trying to kill me. The only difference was the size and three heads. I expected that there¡¯d be another triple-headed monster around the corner.

    Maybe I was beyond caring. I managed to form the spell and simply flung it behind us. There was no effort to aim or attach it to something like a tennis ball. It latched onto the dragon¡¯s tooth. Then the world brightened as a plume of fire, bigger than I¡¯d ever seen before, curled the head back like a banana peeling. The running multi-headed creature fell, biting at its own head and crying out loudly.

    I¡¯d done it. The creature reeled back. Gnashing sounds faded. I barely heard it.

    Only one head had eaten the rune marked explosive. My eyes closed and I struggled to retain consciousness. My body was healing, sure, but the tax was eating away all my other energy. I couldn¡¯t help but wonder if that creature would give an ability when killed. Part of me feared it would cause extra heads to grow.

    ¡°Oh! All right, boys, tie up our guest,¡± the leader said.

    The sleepiness drifted away for only a moment. I panicked and struggled for the truck¡¯s edge. A gaggle of hands pulled me back. They bound me. The sound of zipping was followed by pressure on my arms.

    ¡°Turn him around,¡± the biggest man said. My body spun away from the sight of a fleeing monster. It made me upset not to be able to toss another dozen explosives into its craw.

    Our truck violently rounded another corner.

    The big man pressed a finger into my chest. It hurt. He said, ¡°Only one boy I know with that stupid chin and an arm like that. Tell me it ain¡¯t you, Little Dick? You made it?¡±

    I held still. That nickname could go to hades.

    ¡°Oh come on, we¡¯re the walking damned, boy. There¡¯s no being shy after rapture. Not with old pals like us. Tell me you know who I am, boy! Tell me.¡± His eyes were wide and white. He smiled and it made my body chill I was luckily California nights were warm.

    I did know him. His excited grin had been warped by madness. That baseball cap and tall stature were familiar. The excessive muscle mass was new. But only one man I knew had that voice; one that had disturbed me even as a little boy.

    ¡°Coach Madison,¡± I muttered.

    ¡°That¡¯s right, Little Dick. Get it? Because you¡¯re Richard¡¯s brother. Lance Underwood made it to the apocalypse. Now ain¡¯t that a kick in the head.¡± He smiled. I swallowed as a foul wind blew over me.

    It was probably best that my arms couldn¡¯t move right. I said nothing and focused on blinking. Honestly, even that was difficult. The hour long crawl through the supermarket dungeon, being banged around by a boss, explosions, and kicked in the head; all left me weak.

    ¡°You know this kid?¡± another man asked. He was old too. Most people in this crew were. They reminded me of a military movie with completely mismatched gear. We were in a messed up sort of APC with a dozen jarheads. Two were women, we had no room for anything. And my brother¡¯s old high school baseball coach was in charge. That felt disturbingly weird.

    ¡°We¡¯re near the forest. Stuff it,¡± Coach Madison said.

    Everyone immediately went quiet. The man driving ground out his cigar and slowed down. The car rolled on in silence. The only sounds were heavy breathing and rough pavement beneath the truck¡¯s tires.

    I felt more confused than ever but my other purpose had been achieved. My right hand glowed with the black lights and no one showed any signs of noticing. We traveled on to destinations unknown, and I prepared myself to learn what this black spell did.

 Book 1, Rule 16

    Rule 16

    Hide Big Secrets & Buy Little Secrets

    Statement: Morality is a situationally flexible line in the sand. Is it morally correct to kill another person in cold blood? I was raised to believe no. Is it morally correct to kill another person when the only option is them or me? I was raised to believe in self-defense. These two values are at odds in this new world. But so is everything else. Is slavery wrong?

    The issue here isn¡¯t one of moral correctness. I can¡¯t preach to what is right or wrong for another person¡¯s situation. If faced with the choice of fleeing or forcing a draw, versus killing an enemy combatant, which is better? There is no simple answer, for people left alive can be treated as chess pieces. That is to say, their existence limits immediate moves by the enemy, or muddles the board all together. But I am no chess master. Not yet.

    My attempts at figuring out the black spell were slow, painful, and monitored by a truck full of people. They watched my fingers wiggle and I gave up working on the secret. Sleeping was easier. The last three days had been torture and it was a wonder I¡¯d managed to get this far. My eyes closed and unconsciousness won instantly. I stayed unconscious for a long time.

    But during blissful oblivion, I dreamed. In the dream, my legs worked fine. My family was whole. Dad walked in through the door and my brother invited me to workout at the gym. My niece and nephews were alive and happy. I had a new girl I was dating, her face fuzzy and hair jet black. Life was good.

    On this dream, I¡¯ll say no more, because such fanciful pleasantries are for those in denial. That is not me. There were not enough drugs in the world to bring back what I¡¯d lost. No matter how much I might wish there to be.

    Post Note: I downplay this because it makes me unhappy. I cannot afford to feel sorrow or loss. Nor is there enough time tonight to fully explain what it¡¯s like to know that everything of import had been yanked away. The travesties we committed¡ªand still commit upon each other are terrible. Those who quit or were left behind had been rent limb from limb. People sold their children. We¡¯ve become monsters.

    Ask yourself, faced with a world where nearly everyone had died but you gained magic, how would you honestly act? If you say you¡¯d be a warrior, unquestioning and resolute in the face of new dangers, charging forth to explore the mysteries of this new world¡ªthen you likely know nothing about yourself. Imagine Hell, and that you¡¯re both devil and sinner.

    When I awoke, the world felt off. As if someone had picked up all the items in my house and moved them six inches to the left. It was disjointed and something in the air made me hold still. I expected a face to peer over me at any moment with long creeping fingers.

    No such creatures appeared. My neck turned and legs slowly moved. I¡¯d slept a long time; days, maybe. My face felt stiff and legs ached. I blinked and remembered pain that hit me from a dozen different directions.

    A faint light crossed along the floor with the faded fuzz of sun. The roof of this tent waved slowly in a breeze. Heat turned the air muggy.

    I lifted my hands. The black light had vanished but I¡¯d managed to memorize the first two finger positions. It was strange that magic functioned in such a weird manner.

    Post Note: I confess, I¡¯m not sure what magic should have operated like. Words, bat wings, a wand?

    My book sat nearby. Someone should have stolen it but there it remained. Its presence served as yet another mystery. Raiders, especially people willing to fire magically functioning missiles into a supermarket, would have stolen anything that gave power. Perhaps I¡¯d judged them all wrong.

    Others were in the tent. Most were in terrible shape. Bandages covered stumpy arms and many had wrapping around their heads. The place smelled like cow dung. A thick man with glasses walked around checking people over. He whispered quietly and I couldn¡¯t hear what he said.

    The world tilted and blurred. Ringing in my ear refused to go away. I coughed and struggled to sit up. My arms and legs were bound in layers of cloth that hindered movement. The coughing worsened as I stood.

    Shoes shuffled across dirt as the attending nurse stepped over quickly.

    ¡°Sit. Sit. Sit. Sit,¡± he said. The man sounded like those damned mini-orc creatures. There was a slight curve to his back as he stooped over me.

    I reached for the book. He got to it first and pushed the table away. I fell forward to the ground and managed to clench my teeth until the pain faded. He stood above me pushing objects away to give me space. There wasn¡¯t enough room and falling items were almost immediately caked in a pile of dirt on the ground.

    ¡°No. No. No. Bad.¡± He repeated himself rapidly in a hard to hear tone. The man¡¯s tongue clicked. ¡°Bad. No.¡±

    He pulled out a small blade that was the only clean object in this room. I turned to crawl away but the doctor kept pushing me back. My body had a long way to go before it was fully healed. It felt like my muscles had turned to limp noodles. Thick legs, which had been honed over years of running, were missing tons of mass.

    A foot connected with my side. Two ribs cracked. I didn¡¯t cry out. That small victory helped me stay sane when my situation got worse.

    ¡°No. No. Tests. We need to understand you. Grafts, you see. Grafts. You can save lives.¡± He smiled. The man¡¯s arm twitched. ¡°You¡¯re healed already with potions! You understand what that means. Experiments.¡±

    Suddenly, all the other men in bandages made sense. I¡¯d been taken away to a mad scientist¡¯s lair. He wanted to cut me to ribbons and find the secrets of immortality. I barely understood my own healing and now another man was out to gut me.

    My next thought was for a weapon. His knife, in my hands, based on what piddle understanding I had, would cut through monsters like butter. I debated for a cool second but realized yanking it away would be impossible. He wielded it with a firm grip and my fingers could barely make a fist.

    I fumbled for the spell book. He kicked me, again. A sharp pain crippled me and this time a short cry escaped. He laughed and planted a boot in my side once more. Something inside my chest crunched and breath became impossible. I gasped and tried to reach out, only to collapse inward with knees bent.

    ¡°Stay. Sit. I need a sample. God help me. A single sliver. If it works. If it¡­¡± He shook his head and wiped his brow with a dirty sleeve.

    Chills wracked me. Legs jerked from repeated attempts to breathe. I clutched my stomach and pressed tightly upon the ribs, which made it worse.

    ¡°Doctor Krazer,¡± a dry toned woman said. ¡°That¡¯s enough. Our guest is not to be harmed. Madison¡¯s orders. We need to learn more about his abilities.¡±

    I heaved my chest to get air. None came. Each time I breathed in, pain spiked and I tensed causing myself additional hurt.

    The doctor stood and swept backward. His eyes were wide and the surgical knife in his hands vanished. He had on a gray lab coat that might have once been white.

    ¡°You know better.¡±

    My chest eased. I shook and saw my fingertips again. They were boney and skin was tightly wrapped. I had no muscle around my wrists either.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I was doing. A small piece, just a small one. If can take a sample and put it under the microscope.¡± He twitched. The man¡¯s body was pale, clammy, and beads of sweat pooled on his brow that weren¡¯t there a moment ago.

    Nix scared him. I filed it away and continued my efforts to breathe. The pain rolled by in waves, high pain followed by a dull rush that washed over me.

    ¡°You won¡¯t see anything. Magic doesn¡¯t show up on a stethoscope.¡±

    ¡°Compound microscope,¡± he corrected and twitched. His knife flashed into sight once more and was set down. His arm continued to shake as he placed it on a counter top.

    The two of them engaged in some sort of standoff. I took slower breaths and relished the lessening agony. Whatever had happened to me provided quick healing. Faster than I¡¯d ever expected. This explained why I¡¯d be able to walk around after blowing up a homemade shrapnel bomb in the giant¡¯s face.

    Post Note: Healing didn¡¯t make me more durable. The explanation I promised is soon, disguised as gibberish.

    ¡°He¡±¡ªshe spoke of Coach Madison with the same disgust I felt¡ª¡°wants him to be tested.¡±

    ¡°Madison wants to waste a rose on the faerie? After all the work I put into growing them?¡±

    Nix simply stared the mad doctor down. Unruly hair hung over her eyes making it difficult to tell if she was happy or sad. Her arms were loose and still, while the doctor fidgeted wildly. They made a strange pair.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    None of the other patients stirred. Either they were too far gone, or didn¡¯t care about these two squabbling. I felt right enough to move again and struggled to scoot away.

    Nix walked over calmly. Hair on the back of my neck stood. A crawling tingle made me clench despite the numbness of my body. I shuddered at the sound of her soft footsteps.

    Her foot smashed onto my arm. There was a crunch, sharp jolt of pain, and I screamed. My voice shook and the fresh wave ceased almost immediately. I couldn¡¯t feel it, but skin bled and blood pooled. That had been a break, or a fracture.

    ¡°Now stand up, or I¡¯ll break the other one,¡± Nix said.

    A rag doll would have had more emotion. She pulled on the broken arm. I felt pressure as the limb wiggled without natural form. Bones pulled apart, causing more blood to flow. A small river dripped onto the ground. I hastily stood and only slipped twice getting my other arm into position.

    Breathing was harder while standing.

    ¡°There. Blood for your samples.¡± Nix pointed to the floor. The doctor nodded and shook.

    I was pushed outside the tent. Not a single other patient had turned our way. The doctor clearly fell below Nix in terms of power.

    Post Note: Like so many things, this is in hindsight, a journal of what happened. I noticed all these details, in between bouts of panic, pain, and fear.

    The pain was still there in the background, but distant enough that it didn¡¯t bug me. The last two days had been full of more pain and damage than my entire life before. This new world really was hades. I breathed unevenly as worry set in.

    My mind spun in rapid speculations about the nature of this healing. I worried if it was possible to be fixed wrong. Bones might never set correctly or regain full feeling. These thoughts distracted me as we moved from the tent toward another building.

    The location was familiar. We were camped in a small wooded park next to the public library. Or, these raiders were and I¡¯d been shoved into a tent near the parking lot¡¯s edge. Other buildings were set up, and a ton of cars were tipped over as fortification. I remembered playing here as a young boy. It served as a stark contrast to the playground of my youth.

    Some signs made perfect sense, labeling parts of the camp. One sign, in rather cheery letters above a twenty foot recreational vehicle, read ¡®Paradise.¡¯ The RV rocked and faint moans could be heard inside. In another part farther away, across the sun baked parking lot, was a sign which read ¡®Purgatory.¡¯

    The windows were busted and roof buried in moss. There were signs that one section of the library¡¯s roof had caved in. And the park had plants growing that had obviously been there for months. Their harvest included corn, tomatoes, peas, and other vegetables. I had no idea what season we were in. There were two cows and a chicken coop nearby. Someone had set this place up as a small farm.

    Coach Madison, for I couldn¡¯t remember his first name, strode across the parking lot toward Nix and me. He barged in front of us and pushed open the library door. We stepped through without much conversation.

    I did note that Nix had my book in one hand. It worried me that other people could pick it up or even notice the object. My experiences with other people were too limited.

    ¡°Follow along, Little Dick, and no one will have any problems,¡± Coach Madison said.

    He lied. I knew for sure he wasn¡¯t telling the truth. The man couldn¡¯t even cover it up with double speak like the stewardesses. They, at least, used wordplay to disguise their malicious natures.

    My expression may have been dead but my mind wasn¡¯t. I nodded, because both of them scared me. They ordered me around from a position of power. One day we might turn the tables. I assumed that their confidence came from having time to learn their abilities, or the rules of this world. If I survived, then I would catch up.

    We went around a corner, back behind a pile of bookshelves and into a small room that might have been used as a study location. It reminded me of the kind of place kids went to talk or drag a television to watch anime.

    On the singular normal-sized desk sat a huge jar that had to be bigger than my head. Writing all over the table resembled mad scrawling written by a man suffering from a brain aneurysm. The glass container was upside down.

    Inside the jar was a small bed. Next to that sat a table and an extremely small book. Next to the book a winged creature straight out of a children¡¯s cartoon fluttered. She was tiny, blond, and female.

    She was writing. I knew from experience that words often changed into new shapes when no one was looking, but based on all the words in perfect English around here, there was clearly a trick I did not understand.

    Another inconsistency to life struck me. The letter from my supposed father had been in English too. Did he write it himself, or did one of those small fluttering fairies do it? I had a million questions and none of them were being answered.

    My steps faltered and the man behind me huffed in annoyance.

    ¡°Come on!¡± He pointed to a seat. I hadn¡¯t noticed it before, but next to the glass jar were three wooden chairs. The rest of the room was bare. I got the impression this place had been made sparse for a reason.

    ¡°Sit. Now, before I have them break your arm again. Sit,¡± Coach Madison repeated.

    Breaking my arm would only be momentary pain. The doctor from before, or nurse, had poked me repeatedly. I knew the pain would turn off after a few seconds, leaving me numb to the damage. Such all-inclusive deactivation made it easier to think, but harder to function. Extremely effective pain meds had the same effect.

    I sat anyway, but moved slowly as a small act of defiance. The coach bothered me immensely and I couldn¡¯t remember why. It was all that remained to me, and the coach apparently considered my efforts funny.

    He smiled and nodded to another man, who I hadn¡¯t noticed in the room. The other person was short, wore a collared shirt, bowtie, and frowned in disapproval. His head shook. Coach Madison gestured with his palm for something to be provided. Eventually they exchanged a gun.

    Madison pointed the gun toward a wall, pulled the trigger, and smiled as the wall exploded upon contact. My shoulders tensed and good arm jerked. A small dark hole sat there. He pointed to the short man. ¡°This is Toymaker, and this¡±¡ªhe held up the weapon ¡ª¡°is a working firearm. If I find out you¡¯re not worth keeping alive, you¡¯ll be branded, or killed. It¡¯s your choice.¡±

    I didn¡¯t like either option, and was awed by a working weapon. It had been my impression that many modern objects were replaced by those powers who kidnapped us. These people had a truck, rocket launcher, and a handgun. It amazed and frightened me.

    Madison smiled, leveled the gun at me, and used his free hand to point to the jar. ¡°Little Dick, this is a faerie. We call her Pix, and she tells us we¡¯re stupid. Luckily Pix can be bribed with roses.¡± He nodded to Toymaker, which was a worse name than Pix. The short man heaved a deep breath, walked over and lifted the jar lid.

    The faerie was completely distracted, scrawling illegible words into her miniature book. Madison cleared his throat and the winged creature gradually set down the pencil with tense shoulders.

    She turned around and blinked.

    The little league coach pointed at my book, which Nix had plopped down on the scrawl covered table. ¡°Tell me about it.¡±

    Pix fluttered over to inspect the item. She did two laps around it then touched back down upon the table and stared up at Coach Madison.

    ¡°Two roses.¡± Her voice sounded purple. There was no better way to describe it. Soft, velvet, and wrapped around my head in a way that dulled everything else. It was higher pitched but at the same time clipped and rapid, but still soft.

    ¡°One,¡± Madison countered.

    ¡°Two. It is nasty.¡± A tiny hand waved at my book. The dull covered item was bigger than she was.

    ¡°One.¡±

    ¡°Ironbound. Filthy. Impossible to separate. Even with death. Not like other gifts. Who made this? Who? Who?¡± the short creature devolved into repeated words. ¡°No. Only one man. One only dirty dweller of the deep. Stupid. Stupid. Told the three not to invite him. They did anyway. Two roses for more.¡±

    The faerie flew around in a rapid circle. Coach Madison growled. She froze down to wingtips and still managed to float mid-air.

    ¡°One.¡± My brother¡¯s little league coach jabbed a finger at the book once more. ¡°What other gifts does he have?¡±

    ¡°One. This houses objects. One object. Changeling orb. Very dangerous. Unpredictable. Essences of many Wildchilds boiled, screaming. They screamed. Down to the bone, then they laughed as many became one. It¡¯s madness made tangible.¡±

    ¡°What does it do for him?¡± he asked slowly while pointing at me. The faster the faerie creature talked, the more annoyed Coach Madison looked.

    The small creature hadn¡¯t heard a word the big man said. She flew around rapidly, but never far from the bottle. ¡°Very weak. Very hard to kill. Closer to them. Less like you. Smiling monster with sharp teeth. Collector of secrets big and small. Watcher. Laughing murderers.¡±

    A small chain connected her ankle to the lid. She approached me and I drew back. Pix wagged a finger at me and smiled with teeth showing. I did not like her, at all.

    Coach Madison moved onto threats. ¡°Nix? Can you obliviate our little guest? I think she¡¯s about worn her worth.¡±

    ¡°No! No! I tell you. In human words. Human. Book, Mirror of Souls. Soul Mirror. Star mirror. Many things in one name. Impossible for human ears to hear. Three curses, or blessings, and gifts, or prices, maybe debts. Fickle human tongue is too singular! French were better. Greek were better. English has no words for opposing ideas.¡±

    My head hurt. Coach Madison¡¯s mouth twisted sourly, demonstrating he probably felt the same way.

    ¡°Use English or I¡¯ll let Nix erase you.¡±

    Nix must somehow affect magic. Her name was a hint, nixing magic would make her extremely dangerous to all sorts of creatures, myself included.

    ¡°His body changes. Is changing. Changeling orb. Stored in the mirror. Reflection. Bound with bloodied iron. Affects spirit. Essence. Opposing elements, internal conflict. How. How do you humans use such singular¡ª¡± She froze again when Coach Madison growled. Her wings held still until at last the faerie kicked into motion. She flew a circle around the book and pointed.

    I didn¡¯t like how much she babbled. The small creature obviously knew more about my abilities, and she was telling a room full of people who couldn¡¯t be trusted. The gun at my head and book being so far away made it difficult to argue.

    ¡°Mirror book steals magic. Binds spells to its pages. Steals. Knife inside. Tiny Blade of Shadows. Obfuscates owner. Deadly. With bloodied iron. Deadly to magic. Killer. He¡¯s a killer using our magic. A killer. A hunter. A murderer. A smiling sharp-toothed grin that kills other mad grinners.¡± The faerie rambled on and spun in circles.

    ¡°Very dangerous,¡± she dragged out the words and descended to the table once more.

    Coach Madison stood sharply. Nix stepped back and cast her eyes down. The faerie, Pix,  babbled until the jar clamped over her head. The winged creature broke away from her rants and banged on the glass. Coach Madison glared at me with flat lips.

    I started to remember why he bothered me so. The reason had to do with other boys on my brother¡¯s little league team. There had been rumors of unsavory actions with some of those kids. Never my brother, but I recalled the coach being released from employment.

    The thought made me shudder. Coach Madison didn¡¯t miss the action and shook his head. Inside the jar, his faerie captive banged tiny fists ineffectively on the glass. After a minute of thumping he finally lifted the glass again. I hadn¡¯t seen the gun switch people, but now Toymaker had it. He, too, frowned.

    Pix shouted in her purple voice. ¡°Roses! You promised roses for answers! Give them to me. You. And I tell you another secret. A little secret.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll tell the secret first or I¡¯ll drown your bottle in a river.¡±

    ¡°Rose first.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t play games with me.¡±

    The faerie¡¯s body held still. She stared at Coach Madison, blinking only. The coach glared back. Finally, Pix nodded and spilled the last of her secrets.

    ¡°This once man. He¡¯s the last one. Or one of the last. He must have visited the Dwarf Hephaestus¡¯s shop. Only one of those above can make this. The original Hephaestus. Mean. But these relics were broken. He merged them. Made something dangerous. He plays games with the others. Dangerous, dangerous games.¡±

    ¡°That it?¡±

    The faerie nodded and held out her hands and grasped with fingers.

    Coach Madison¡¯s face stayed expressionless as he pulled out a single rose and handed it to the faerie. Her mouth grew to impossible lengths. She gulped down the rose as a pelican might eat a fish.

    I held very still and struggled to recall all the words she¡¯d said. They were so fast and confusing that it was a difficult task. The words ¡°mad grinners¡± and ¡°dangerous games¡± stuck in my head.

    Those parts started to sink in. The coach led me outside and we passed by a bathroom doorway with some chest high mirror. My reflection rubbed hands across arms that I couldn¡¯t feel. He, I, stopped and smiled briefly, a mad grin that reminded me of the stewardesses.

 Book 1, Rule 17

    Rule 17

    Distrust & Learn Quickly

    Statement: During my prior recounts of those first few days, I have talked about many issues; survival being the biggest theme to these topics. I can write that some have chosen to be slaves. The reasons are varied, being oppressed is only part of a complex equation. In exchange for servitude they get a small measure of stability. Again, I¡¯m not arguing if it is morally correct. It simply is.

    A person telling themselves it¡¯s better to be a king in hell than a slave in heaven might not know how bad hell really gets. No one sane would want to rule over demons for eternity. Religion aside, a more modern example is abuse victims, that is to say, those who don¡¯t see a way out or realize how bad their situation really is. They choose to stay because there¡¯s a measure of certainty even with an abusive hand. How far can such a justification stretch?

    I went from being shoved around, to getting a tour. All it took was being identified as a useful killer of magical creatures. That bothered me but freedom was preferable to being shot. Despite my healing, confirmed by the tiny faerie Nix, and Allegra before her, each wave of damage brought a bolt of pain.

    Coach Madison provided the tour personally. He was a muscled giant next to my scrawny form. I couldn¡¯t tell if I was this bad due to months of poor nutrition after the accident, or a side effect of the abilities. My brown-skinned form had certainly been much more built.

    He said, ¡°Over there. Slaves. They¡¯re marked at the neck with chains. You may find yourself there, if you don¡¯t prove useful.¡±

    A half dozen people tilled one of the fields nearby. Their clothing ripped. Some had pluses, some had minuses. They all moved slowly while sparse clouds overhead blocked the sun. In another few hours, even that small cover would be gone and they¡¯d be left baking.

    I didn¡¯t like the sound of being turned into anyone¡¯s slave. However, I wasn¡¯t sure proving useful to this band of degenerates was any better. They clearly had a good setup and were well fortified, but they were grungy and smelled bad.

    ¡°Whore house, though they call it Paradise. Whatever, they can name it anything they¡¯d like as long as they pull their share. Or put out their share.¡± He laughed once. Coach Madison smiled and acted energetic, but it never reached his voice. Still, from what little I remembered of the man, he seemed proud. He simply had a dry way of looking at the world.

    I eyed the house and wondered if any of the ¡°employees¡± there suffered the same affliction as the brown-skinned woman. I¡¯d walked half a day in her shoes and found myself frequently thinking dirty thoughts. Luckily, I was myself now. It was simply the rest of the world that had gone mad.

    There was another building across the way, which they used as a barracks or bunker. Coach Madison explained normal houses were simply too unsafe because of monsters breaking into everything. He called the mini-orcs ¡°goblins¡± and implied they were worse than fast breeding cockroaches.

    It was strangely civil. I¡¯d expected more from a group labeled as raiders. Aside from the filth everywhere and the corner of their compound that smelled like shit, they were peaceful.

    I distrusted it. Vending machines ate people. They¡¯d fought one and lost a few souls. There was simply no way they could possibly trust me. Unless they had leverage I didn¡¯t know about, or they had no clue it was me.

    That was it. I¡¯d been a brown-skinned dark haired man when I dashed across the door. They had absolutely no way to know me from anyone else. I resolved to keep the two identities separate. Lance, Little Dick, would be a raider friendly identity. Thorn, Hawthorn, Mayor Kent¡¯s son, would be for the group downtown¡ªor wherever they were.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got a guy over there, managing a full bar. We¡¯ve raided almost every house in a two mile radius. You would not believe how much people had packed away, or how it makes the death of a companion more sufferable.¡±

    I nodded. He probably meant the few who had died to a roused and irate vending machine. That had been my fault.

    ¡°Nasty business, those machines.¡± Coach Madison spit onto the dirt and ground it out with a foot.

    I nodded again. He expected me to say something. Sharing my personal feelings was not a strong suit.

    ¡°Why were you in there?¡±

    ¡°They promised me money and orbs,¡± I answered. It was a good enough reason for the new world gone mad.

    My eyes closed. It had been stupid to admit that there were others with me. By the same token, it would have been impossible for me to clear that place alone. At least, it seemed impossible right now. Maybe after enough energy or with the right abilities, I could have taken down the entire place. The idea taunted me while also scaring the crud out of me.

    Post Note: Here¡¯s why I paused. Could that ending ¡°boss¡± have been killed with a single explosive rune in his mouth? What did the black spell do? How much tougher could I get? And Pix, that little faerie, had called me a killer¡ªlike this Hephaestus fellow had given me the perfect tools to murder monsters.

    ¡°They?¡± He mused for a while and scratched stubble. After a few minutes he nodded. ¡°Your dad. I¡¯d heard he was in charge of another set of survivors. He sent people to get you.¡±

    I said nothing more and studied our surroundings. A few other buildings were off in the distance that looked clear. Red paint had been poured on their rooftops; serving as a marking that could mean any number of things.

    ¡°And that little map maker of his must have known.¡± Coach Madison heaved a sigh and flattened his lips.

    Somehow he knew Allegra. Or maybe Mayor Kent, which was my dad¡¯s first name, knew another person who made maps. I resolved to keep quiet around other humans. They were dangerous. No one had tried to stab me for orbs or money yet, but it was only a matter of time.

    ¡°Anyway, enough post-apocalypse bickering. I think you¡¯ll like it here. We¡¯ve got quite the setup. If you¡¯re useful and earn it, that is.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Why what, show you all this?¡± Coach Madison waved to the room and turned to the rest of his camp. He surveyed the small end-of-the-world kingdom.

    I slowly nodded.

    ¡°Smart, Little Dick. You¡¯re at least half as clever as your dad.¡± I blinked at Coach Madison¡¯s words. We hadn¡¯t been discussing the past, at all. He continued, ¡°I have a mission for you. You can take it, prove you¡¯re useful enough to keep on the team, and we¡¯ll have the cheerleaders work you over, and the fans supply you, like they do all the big league members.¡±

    Cheerleaders must have meant the prostitutes, or whatever they were. I¡¯d seen women engaging in sex for money during the line. The fact that they survived over here felt natural. They were used to making the best of two terrible choices in order to survive.

    ¡°Or,¡± I said without inflection.

    ¡°Or you get the boot. We¡¯re simple around here. Pull your fucking weight. We¡¯re a team, one that¡¯s recently lost two members and in need of a strong throwing arm to step up. You could be our pitcher, or a quarterback, in a fucked up fantasy world.¡±

    I doubted it was that simple. Nix was afraid of Coach Madison. The doctor, Krazer or whatever, was scared of Nix. This place didn¡¯t operate on love or trust. It ran on fear and control. The sensible part of me of a few weeks ago felt disgusted at such a situation. We had turned America into a third world country run by dictators with wide smiles.

    My gaze settled on a small farm across the way. A dozen people with slave markings tilled fields and checked animals. Beyond them sat the wall of cars, with people crouched behind it checking through cracks. This place was secure, but their very postures told me that we hung on a knife¡¯s edge.

    The giant rolling creature with three heads could probably make a mess of most of the wall. If mini-orcs swarmed in behind it, they¡¯d turn a lot of these people into ¡°meat.¡± I didn¡¯t want other humans to die, there were so few of us remaining.

    There were other colors of paint farther away. I knew they meant something important to the people here. It couldn¡¯t simply be a matter of knowing which way to watch for monsters. The guards were on the other side, facing the road. These red roofed buildings were hardly being protected. Maybe they were already cleared out somehow, if such a thing were possible.

    Coach Madison let me think about all those factors as the clouds above slowly burned off.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°What¡¯s the mission?¡± I asked.

    He laughed without opening his mouth. ¡°How much do you remember from when we found you?¡±

    Coach Madison probably meant, ¡°Did you see me blow up the building you were in, twice?¡± Still, his point was clear. Madison wanted the three-headed monster of Main Street dead. Killing it would allow them to travel unchallenged at night, at least until the next monster came along. This world would probably toss another one at us in a few weeks.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to kill that monster in its lair. Keep it dead.¡±

    He acted cut throat. I forced myself to stay calm and asked, ¡°What do I get?¡±

    Coach Madison stopped and gestured to the rocking trailer labeled ¡°Paradise. Such as it is here in hell.¡±

    Noises from inside the trailer made my brain reset. Coach Madison laughed and nodded.

    ¡°We got girls, if you want them. Food, if you want it. A library. No books because they make shit all sense, but I¡¯ve got a faerie that knows a lot.¡± He turned toward me and waggled a finger. ¡°You take down that beast with your little explosives and I¡¯ll let you use you all of them. The ladies would adore a young stud like yourself, especially if you can keep them safe. They fawn over the strong.¡±

    He paused and glanced down at my form. His head shook slowly. I knew the issue. He looked at me and expected the same physique my brother had. He¡¯d worked out, I hadn¡¯t. The logical conclusion was that he expected me to die, or try and fail then be indebted. Alternately, I might actually succeed and he¡¯d still win.

    Coach Madison had nothing to lose by winding me up and sending me out. I was a toss away player in his mind, a batter who might hit nothing and still wouldn¡¯t cost the game. The treatment annoyed me. Despite the new world, he hadn¡¯t changed. Winning mattered more than the players. Getting what he wanted was the ultimate goal.

    It was obvious in his muscles. He respected strength and only that. But we¡¯d both listened to the tiny faerie Pix spout off details. She acted as though I was a big deal, and I didn¡¯t feel the same. I felt like a glass cannon whose emotions had been muted under a tidal wave of mental pressure.

    I held still and took short shallow breaths. Both hands cupped in front of my face to circulate air and calm down. There had been an idea there that I¡¯d barely touched upon.

    Admission: I¡¯d wondered if I would die; if we were all doomed. I¡¯d wondered if I could function at all in a week, or two, or a month. By my reckoning it had only been a few days, and maybe only a single week since this all happened¡ªnot counting time in the line.

    He judged the hades out of me. I fought off a panic attack and put my hands down. The coach continued talking, ¡°So. Do you think you¡¯re up to the task? You and that fancy magic you picked up?¡±

    I maintained my poker face and stared at the crowd of people. Their gazes shifted our way repeatedly, the slaves especially. They glanced at me, then Coach Madison, and bent themselves to working harder. We watched as a few feet of field were tilled quickly.

    There had to be tools at a store nearby. Maybe they¡¯d been broken. I mused about the sad state of affairs and wondered why no one had ransacked a hardware store.

    I had never seen the crazy monster before last night. The giant had been a bit smaller and slower. If a single bomb could blow up one head then it was likely a few might harass it to death. It¡¯d probably heal. That large monster couldn¡¯t survive against a truck and its rocket launcher without being able to heal.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said.

    ¡°Good. When can you head out?¡±

    ¡°I need a few days to recover.¡±

    ¡°You get one,¡± he said. ¡°Food costs, and no one gets to be idle in this brave new world.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll need intel on where the creatures goes.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got someone for that,¡± he said with an insincere smile. ¡°The perfect girl. She¡¯s a sneak, like you. Right, Mister Obfuscates?¡±

    I said nothing. The man rubbed me the wrong way. Most of it was his voice. He assumed people would simply fall in line. Judging by this place and their fear of him, they did.

    He walked me to an empty trailer in the parking lot. I was placed closely to the one that rocked almost constantly. He said someone would bring me food and my guide would show in the morning. For a parting shot, he pointed to a tall man with thick shoulders and a suit jacket. ¡°You have any problems, and Theo here will be more than happy to help you. He¡¯ll guide you around if you need.¡±

    ¡°Theo,¡± I said.

    The large man in his suit jacket barely tilted his head in my direction. We weren¡¯t going to be friends. Coach Madison handed me my spell book. Theo shifted slightly.

    I ignored them both and went into the barren RV and sat down. My heart raced and chest felt tight. The entire exchange had bothered me, and it wasn¡¯t until I had a semi-private space that I could really take stock.

    I was royally screwed. They were watching me to see what would happen. That problem had to be solved eventually. There were three possible routes out of this nonsense, maybe four. I could simply try to run and see how far I got. They might not care. They might murder me. I could run after being sent to kill the large monster, but that would remove this place as a possible safe haven.

    If I wanted to have a vaguely safe place to sleep, or a guarded one at least, I needed to kill the multi-headed serpent. Then I¡¯d have this place while operating as Lance, and where ever my father was as Hawthorn. If I played it right I could even get a huge bump of orbs from killing the big creature.

    Worse still, a small idea in the back of my brain said it would easier to simply gut him. I swear that part of my mind giggled. It was like I had a heckling audience of one that repeated the same line over and over while laughing drunkenly. ¡°Or, you could stab him in the face! Now that¡¯s funny,¡± it said.

    That voice would have been perfectly happy going into my attic and trapping the door with an explosive rune, then drinking a pint of liquor and muscle relaxers. In the morning I could get up with a hangover and toss explosive runes at the mini-orcs while laughing maniacally.

    I pushed all that aside. None of it mattered if I couldn¡¯t figure out more regarding my abilities. There had to be a twist to the black one which would help me increase my odds, no matter which decision I ended up making.

    It took me two hours to figure out the new spell. They were getting easier to use. This one made a black dot form on my palm. Beyond that, I had no clue. It did nothing else except make my palm buzz like it was being zapped by gentle electricity. My fingers jerked repeatedly then relaxed.

    I stared at the black dot. It actually cast off light, which made as much sense as the rest of this situation. It had to be useful somehow. The explosion rune was still surprising me with what it could be attached to.

    Pressing a buzzing finger into the glowing center of my palm made it tingle harder. There was a sticky sensation that went nowhere when I pulled the finger away. I searched for a reason behind this.

    Loud knocking startled me. I shook my hand until the glow faded. It was barely in time as Theo, the large man in a suit, stepped into the trailer. He glanced around as if I¡¯d started writing all my secrets onto the trailer¡¯s deteriorating and barren walls.

    ¡°Little, uhh, Dick?¡± Theo¡¯s poor face twisted in confusion for a moment.

    I tried to lie again and come up with another name. The words died on my lips.

    After a pause, I said, ¡°It¡¯s Lance.¡± That would be the only name I¡¯d use with these people. Little Dick was not acceptable and ran contrary to what I¡¯d been told by prior girlfriends.

    After a pause, he held up a glass. ¡°Drink?¡±

    I nodded. There were certain needs that hadn¡¯t been recently fulfilled. Drinks were only part of it. Despite the fantasy aspects, I had yet to find anything besides normal toilets.

    ¡°Food?¡± I asked, keeping my words equally simplistic. I tried to give him a friendly smile but wasn¡¯t feeling happy about his presence. My heart still sped from the near discovery.

    Theo, who seemed a gruff and non-talkative man, escorted me to the restroom and made sure food was readily available. The door slammed on my trailer which barely blocked out the muffled grunting from the next vehicle over. Apparently the moaning women had finally stopped their day jobs for a union break.

    I stared at the briefly forgotten glass. They¡¯d actually given me a wine flute. It was a really thin and tall container that always struck me as pompous. I took a sip and gasped. They¡¯d put in some of the highest proof liquor I¡¯d ever tasted in my life.

    Ten minutes later the world spun. I struggled to focus on the spells to understand what they did. It made less sense than ever and I found myself giggling and glancing side to side to see if anyone had noticed. No one, not even Theo, appeared to notice or care.

    I¡¯d been left alone. Even the infernally fake soundtrack of moaning from the next trailer had paused. This was good, because I¡¯d been considering blowing them up for at least twenty minutes or more. Time¡¯s passage was impossible to be sure about. I reeled from the moonshine.

    My body sagged in relief. I didn¡¯t have to wonder about diseases from the whore next door. I didn¡¯t have to worry about Theo¡¯s nosy nature. It was simply me, an empty wine flute, and an itchy palm that glowed black.

    Impulse grabbed me. I remembered the weird stocky man, Hephaestus or whatever, had shoved objects into the book of mirrors. That corner market store had been bigger on the inside than the outside. Clearly space was a tricky concept.

    I casually shoved the wine flute into the black spot and barely quivered when it sank in, without pause, all the way to the base.

    My arm twitched and shook. The other hand itched. I almost had enough mental capability to worry but instead simply stared, rather detached, at my hands.

    The black dot on my palm still existed, but my thumb on the other hand now glowed as well.

    Post Note: It might have been instinct of a sort. I, and others, seem to have some inborn knowledge about our new abilities. However, this knowledge is closer to a feeling rather than some user¡¯s guide or manual. This aggravates me. Life would be infinitely easier with a manual.

    With a similar gesture, but in reverse, I pulled the wine flute out of my palm. It was nothing like the dirty glass that had gone into the black spot. This wine flute was dark, as if someone had captured the night sky and used it to blow glass. I ran a finger inside and felt a slightly rougher form of glass. The spots where light pooled like stars were strangely warm.

    I tested its durability, and let the glass fall. It shattered. I tried to pull a second one out of my palm and failed. Ten minutes later, as with the rune of explosives, the first summoned glass faded away. I repeated the motion and pulled out an identical wine flute.

    ¡°Well,¡± I said dryly and chuckled to myself. This had potential.

    I theorized that it might be possible to summon objects. Even if they only lasted a few minutes at most. A weapon would be ideal. Especially if I could attach the explosive spell to it, a theory I didn¡¯t want to test in here. They¡¯d seen me blow up a creature, but doing so in the middle of their compound would be bad.

    I wasn¡¯t exactly sober anymore. Instead I simply imagined all kinds of ideas. I had five fingers and could likely store five objects. The only downside so far was that I¡¯d wasted one of the slots on a wine flute. There were still four other fingers, hopefully. I simply needed something else of value to put in my palm. Which, honestly, sounded both terrifying and delightful at the same time.

    It dawned on me. I needed a knife. Then I could stab everyone in the face without hindrance. That voice in the back of my brain was absolutely correct. Never again could anyone catch me unaware. A knife, that could be reformed endlessly would allow me many ways to lob spells right into people¡¯s eye sockets.

    It would be downright comical; that is to say, the looks on their faces as they gasped in pain and popped like melons.

    Post Note: If this seems like a drastic change in personality from the dull distant boy I first described, then know the thoughts startled me as much as they did you. I can tell you that these gifts, curses, debts or what have you¡ªall come with side effects. In sum, I gained power, but at what price to my being? I am still struggling to figure that out, even now.

    I opened the door in a rush. Theo stood three feet away with a twisted look upon his face.

    ¡°You!¡± I pointed and yelled.

    ¡°Did you need help with something, Lance? The Coach, he¡¯s told me to help you prepare in any way you need. I could¡­ call one of the women over here.¡±

    The faerie¡¯s words came back to me. There had been a necklace and a knife embedded in my mirror-paged book. That meant something, and played a role in my abilities. All of this mattered somehow.

    ¡°I need a knife.¡±

 Book 1, Rule 18

    Rule 18

    Eavesdrop Frequently & Test Sneaking

    Statement: I can¡¯t be clear on what to expect from this warped world. Imagined or real, this much has to be treated as fact¡ªour lives are at risk. Vending machines and multiple other odd reflections kept this new reality just off kilter from the old. Repeatedly (as I¡¯ve stated before)¡ªI find myself asking ¡°why?¡± To be more specific¡ªwhy did our powers lend themselves so easily to murder?

    This is a natural order to the world. Lions are born with claws and taught to hunt. Most predators are. Whereas prey are nurtured by those around them to be afraid. Rabbits don¡¯t fear a lion until a lion eats one of them¡ªit is not instinct. Seeing death robs them of innocence and the belief that only carrots (or whatever) exist. The loss is profound and applies to humans as well as rabbits.

    They got me a long knife. The blade was roughly twelve inches and thin. Where they¡¯d found such a weapon was beyond me, but it was also very possible that someone simply made the item recently. They could have a forge in any one of these buildings.

    They could have had a farm full of foul fowls for fornication for all I knew. This new world made sense only in abstract and the finer points were a mess. I moved past wondering where they¡¯d picked up the weapon from.

    In any event, the blade became my second stored item. Pulling it out of my palm, materializing it from semi-nothing, was a strange experience. No stranger than the wine flute, but far more useful. It had the same starry night sky composite and a sharp point that easily cut my finger.

    It threw rather poorly. I needed a lot more practice.

    I pricked myself again and giggled as the wound healed. Watching myself recover from damage was far different than feeling it or falling asleep. Toughness was another issue, as in, I lacked any. I debated if my obfuscation, which was a fancy way of saying hidden or blurred from view, would work with plate armor like Leon¡¯s.

    There was a shuffle outside. I peeled back the blind and looked out the front.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t go in there,¡± Theo said to a scrawny girl in loose clothing. She had a wide brimmed hat that cast more shade than a hat that size should have. The only reason I could make out her clothes was because of evening light brushing against the ill-controlled shade.

    The new girl poked Theo and said, ¡°Ain¡¯t your decision. Coach Big Balls himself says I gotta talk to the new guy, and show him how to get to the hydra¡¯s lair.¡±

    Theo sniffed and rubbed his nose with a hand. ¡°All the same, I don¡¯t like it. You¡¯re too young.¡±

    ¡°As if. I¡¯m legal in all fifty one states.¡± She was young looking, but it was hard to tell with the darkness surrounding her. Her voice sounded like a teenager¡¯s, with that squeakiness of a high school freshman.

    ¡°He¡¯s creepy,¡± Theo said. ¡°All smiling at nothing and shit. He asked me for a knife and grinned. Like he¡¯d gone mad.¡±

    I didn¡¯t remember that. Upon review, while they chatted, I did remember asking for a knife but not grinning.

    ¡°You been around the block a time or two. Ain¡¯t us that¡¯s mad. Just the world, yeah?¡±

    ¡°No. This guy''s like that¡­ that villain in the movie. Smiling at jokes no one else hears. I walked in there earlier and he was giggling to himself with a pinky in the air and a wine glass made of god knows what. He pulled the damn thing right out of his hand like a magic trick.¡±

    They were of course, utterly wrong and probably right at the same time. The world had been filled with madness. I still didn¡¯t understand vending machines that ate people when upset. Now, I also knew that Theo was perfectly willing to talk, but not to me.

    It felt rude. However, my ability to endear myself to individuals had dwindled since the car accident. Being in a new world didn¡¯t fill me with the urge to change my ways regarding people. It¡¯d only increased my distrust, but that could have been a side effect of the artifact I¡¯d purchased.

    Issues of my attitude were put aside. The shaded teen opened the door without hesitation. I stared as she came in. One of the recently formed knives sat in my hand and the spell book to one side.

    The scene made her steps falter for only a second. She puckered a cheek and ran a tongue across her teeth like she was cleaning away meat. I don¡¯t know why I could make out that much but still have no idea what her eyes looked like.

    Her hand turned over and a finger pointed at me. ¡°So, you Richard¡¯s brother? Coach Big Balls says you go by Little Dick.¡±

    That name would get really annoying soon. I also had no clue why she referred me to as Richard¡¯s brother. It was possible she¡¯d known Richard from school, or maybe this tiny girl was related to Madison.

    ¡°My name is not Little Dick,¡± I said.

    ¡°Right. I give zero fucks what you call yourself. But Coach Big Balls says I gotta show you the angry hydra duder. But we gotta be careful, he spits.¡±

    ¡°So do camels,¡± I said, feeling a bit wittier than I had in ages.

    ¡°Still don¡¯t care. You ready to get gone?¡±

    I¡¯d eaten, drank, and still felt delightfully woozy. Sleep was needed, despite the worrisome state of my personal security. I banked on them needing me alive to murder the monster rather than kill me in my sleep.

    ¡°I need rest.¡±

    ¡°Ain¡¯t that grand.¡± She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. I couldn¡¯t tell if she was tanned under the hat. Too much shade obscured her face despite being in the trailer where lantern light flickered. It was like an umbrella that ignored physics.

    Post Note: She was clearly half broken; as were we all. So, what would physics matter? Her hat, my book of spells, Leon¡¯s stupid hammer. We each have, or had, our tools of the trade. I wonder if the hero with the black sword used his weapon in the same manner I was using its energy spell. Yet, I wonder many things.

    I set down the knife and gave it a blank stare as the blade broke. It became stardust, or something close enough that it didn¡¯t matter. The black energy reappeared on my book¡¯s open page.

    ¡°What is your name?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Ain¡¯t telling you my real name. No one doing, no how. Some people do nasty things if they know your name. Like them ladies that started this nightmare months ago. They knew all our names. Wrote ¡®em down. You see where that got us?¡±

    It made sense, as much as anything. No one here went by their actual name. Except Leon, but maybe they, whomever ¡°some people¡± referred to, had to know the whole name in order to do nasty things.

    ¡°I¡¯m Lance.¡±

    ¡°Sure you is. You¡¯re Richard¡¯s bro. Little Dick.¡± She snickered.

    I ignored her and worked to put together the situation. There were gaps in my logic, drinking high proof liquor hadn¡¯t done me any favors. Coach Madison knew my name or at least acted like he remembered me. It was closer to him knowing my brother. I worried they might be able to cast some magic using names, since two people knew of me.

    ¡°That monster runs at night,¡± I said.

    ¡°Yep,¡± she responded.

    ¡°I¡¯ll plant a trap where it sleeps.¡± That was my vague plan at this stage. There were no better ones. I could drop a rune at the door, while it was reeling I¡¯d create a knife and plant another explosive in its mouth. It would simply be a matter of hiding and whittling away at it.

    ¡°Yeah. Right.¡±

    ¡°Tonight, Little Shade,¡± I said. If she planned on calling me Little Dick, I¡¯d call her Little Shade. It fit well enough in my mind.

    ¡°I dun like that nick.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    She annoyed me. ¡°Tough. I am the one who may die. I will pick the time. We will go tonight.¡±

    She tapped a foot and tilted her head. The shadow cast from her wide brimmed hat stayed planted over her. I pooled energy and practiced summoning a fresh knife.

    ¡°Kay,¡± she said and shook her head. Like I¡¯d been stupid to believe there were other options. ¡°We¡¯ll scout the place. But it comes back at sunrise. We gotta be ready.¡± Little Shade turned over her hand and pointed again. ¡°To do the thing with your petty little knife.¡± She had choppy words like the tiny faerie. It annoyed me.

    I smiled and attempted to be friendly. ¡°See you tonight.¡±

    Little Shade turned and left. I fiddled with the blade. At some point I¡¯d simply started to accept fidgeting with a knife was normal. We were all around the bend here.

    She hadn¡¯t taken her hat off during the entire situation. I had only the sound of her voice and Theo¡¯s statements to go off. The hat felt unprofessional, my dad would have been furious. Still, I¡¯d summoned a knife in her presence so we were probably even on the uncouth front.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. Bonkers with a knife. It¡¯s grand,¡± she said to Theo, loudly enough that even the whore next door paused her encouraging theatrics.

    I found a small bed, bundled up, and tried to sleep, spell book in hand. Shortly after, the sounds of bad moaning came from next door. The thin blanket they gave me couldn¡¯t block the noise. I blacked out anyway.

    The trailer door opened and I jerked upright. Blade ready in my hand before I¡¯d even had time to realize. Small lights glittered in the otherwise dark room. I squinted, wondering why I couldn¡¯t see in the darkness like before. Something was in the room but it was hidden.

    I asked the darkness nothing, and expected nothing in return. My knife stayed close to my chest. My other hand was stuck between pages of my book, ready to pull away red energy and blow this place to hades. I¡¯d heal, the invader might not.

    ¡°Expected a bit more zam, I did,¡± a woman said. It took me a few blinks to place it as Little Shade¡¯s tone. She sounded older at night.

    Post Note: In hindsight, this is an extremely awkward statement to make. In my defense, I had and have no interest in her in any sexual manner. Even as I write this journal, I can honestly admit I have no clue what Little Shade actually looks like or how old she really is.

    I relaxed and let my fingers uncurl. Blowing up my guide to the big creature was a bad idea. Even if it was foolish to trust, I needed her to reach this hydra creature¡¯s lair. There was a creek of a person shifting weight. The trailer door moved.

    ¡°Come on.¡± Little Shade¡¯s voice came from outside one of the windows.

    The air was cool. I¡¯d forgotten how much the temperature dropped at night. A fat moon hung above, larger than I remembered. Almost close enough to pluck down from the sky and wear like a badge. It was the perfect night for a hunt.

    Little Shade¡¯s silhouette bobbed ahead of me. We passed guards who huddled near small bonfires. They had a thick cloth hanging around their station that might help keep some heat in and dull the fire¡¯s illumination.

    Little Shade lifted one of the flaps to the side, which caused both guards to pull on swords at their belt. She put up a hand then turned it over to point at them. ¡°We¡¯re headed out. If you don¡¯t see us by tomorrow night, you say a prayer, yeah? Maybe say one for us now. We¡¯re off to kill the lizard of mulberry.¡±

    ¡°Good luck,¡± the guard said. He sniffed once. I stepped in closer and smiled, which caused the man¡¯s face to go pale despite the heat in their tent.

    She talked, undisturbed by any of us. ¡°Ain¡¯t needing luck. We need us some claymores. Or some real rocket launchers. Maybe a hungry dragon. I ain¡¯t seen one of them yet. Maybe there¡¯s dragon in the hills, they like hills right?¡±

    The guard shook his head. Little Shade let the tent flap down. We continued out through a badly propped door that might have been stolen from a department store, down a narrow passage, and headed up a hill toward the library.

    ¡°So, we go left by the corner store, then up passing the gas station. Then we go left two more blocks. Right on Luther. Right on fifth, then we end up smack dab in the middle of its tiny little abode. Like the world¡¯s biggest dog house, it is.¡±

    I vaguely knew the streets. She might be talking about the fire station part way across town. This town¡¯s layout hadn¡¯t changed much since the event, only been repainted with a world that barely resembled the old one. We were in a funhouse mirror, or a nightmare, or perhaps an alien experiment.

    Little Shade continued, ¡°Or was it left on fifth? Can¡¯t remember. This town¡¯s full of knots.¡±

    We made it a few blocks in relative peace. I wondered why we weren¡¯t taking the car or moving with an armed escort. It was likely Little Shade would be able to survive or escape with her lacking presence. I was expendable in their mind. There might be a few more people behind us with those rocket launchers, simply to clean up the monster if I did enough damage.

    The very thought put me on edge. I spent much of our journey watching in every direction for signs of being tailed. Then I realized they probably already knew where the hydra creature bedded, so they had no reason to follow.

    Little Shade caught me off guard with a sudden question.

    ¡°What¡¯s a Runed Rogue? Is that you? Are you ruined somehow?¡± She snorted. ¡°That¡¯s a kick. Acting like you¡¯s the only one ruined ¡®round here. We¡¯re all ruins down here, we is. Practically made of them.¡±

    Little Shade¡¯s hands stuck out slightly from the shroud of darkness. She had a small white piece of paper in her hands. It was a business card, and I¡¯d only seen a few of them since this whole mess started.

    ¡°Lance, you really are a Lance, huh? Never would have pegged you as a Lance. Stupid name, it is. All pointy. One of them jabbing thrusting things that people on horseback hold. Like it¡¯s a biggest dick competition. That¡¯s what it is.¡±

    I did a double take and rapidly approached. She had my card. I hadn¡¯t looked at the damned piece of paper in ages and she¡¯d somehow stolen it. My heart skipped and hand lashed out to take it back.

    ¡°Like the horse has a big cock. So the knight has to have a bigger cock. Then he uses it on another man. It¡¯s a waste, that¡¯s what it is. It is. A waste of a cockle lance¡ª¡±

    Her voice cut off when I grabbed her. I twisted, and found myself holding Little Shade tightly against me. Her hat tipped upward, pressing against my nose. It smelled like the darkest corner of an unlit cave.

    She pressed a finger on the tip of a blade at her neck. I blinked repeatedly, unsure when I¡¯d grabbed her or put the knife so close to her skin. This world was breaking me and I¡¯d started reacting without thought. Little Shade was fearless, or insane.

    ¡°My card,¡± I spoke calmly despite the frantic whir of thoughts.

    Little Shade held up the piece of paper. I grabbed it with my free hand and wondered how to protect the stupid item. Maybe it would be worth storing. Then I could pull it out whenever I wanted, assuming my black spell magic even worked that way.

    ¡°Would have given it back. Always do. Ain¡¯t no reason to keep ¡®em. Damn things up and vanish in a few hours anyway.¡±

    ¡°You are loud,¡± I said.

    ¡°Ain¡¯t matter. No one notices me unless I¡¯m right in them¡¯s faces, except you. Prolly cus you¡¯re a sneak.¡±

    That was useful to know but didn¡¯t make me less jittery. I was fixated on how she¡¯d lifted the card which should have been in my pocket. She could have stolen the book, maybe. It might be possible to store my spell book as well, using the black spell, but then I¡¯d be in a weird catch twenty two, where I couldn¡¯t summon the book without the spell, but couldn¡¯t get to the spell without the book.

    Little Shade might have an answer, but I refused to ask her for help. It was the same reason that I¡¯d had for doing everything on my own since the accident. Not pride, but fatalism, if I couldn¡¯t do it while others were around, I¡¯d never be able to handle the tasks while left alone.

    I tightened my clothes and the shoelaces that bound my book. There had to be a better way to carry them that involved less risk. Desperation might push me to using the black spell on the book to try to store it. The rules of this new world would allow it, block it, or cause me to explode.

    There were far more of those annoying mini-orcs patrolling a few blocks away. Little Shade walked right by them. A hand peeked out from under her halo of darkness and beckoned me onward.

    ¡°Come on. You¡¯re a sneaky guy. Walk by them like you got a pair of real balls hidden in those drawers.¡±

    I wished for more sleep and a drug induced coma to recover during. Instead, I acted as if I had real balls and slowly walked across the street. The mini-orc creatures didn¡¯t even notice me. Late night darkness must have helped me, and I wondered if it had been all along. Maybe this was way that first mini-orc I¡¯d seen completely disregarded me in favor of a chicken rabbit.

    One of the loathsome little creatures stayed too far behind the pack. It wore a children¡¯s jacket that belonged to some superhero. The idea that such a monster could wear kids clothes bothered me, so I culled him from the herd and kept moving.

    ¡°Scary knife there. That bit of shadow and light. Where¡¯d you nick that from?¡±

    ¡°A dead woman¡¯s dildo collection,¡± I said.

    ¡°Yah? Which end she take, the pointy end or the handle?¡±

    ¡°Neither.¡±

    ¡°Oh, tell me you didn¡¯t steal it from that earth nymph¡¯s house? Yeah? You did didn¡¯t you. It¡¯s black, like old Wart¡¯s sword used to be. Funny init? It was his third leg what got him killed by the hussy¡¯s husband. He ain¡¯t good for much except lying around and getting jealous. His lance doesn¡¯t joust if you catch my meaning. Word is he was firing blanks well before the event.¡±

    That filled in a few holes I hadn¡¯t cared about. Little Shade had plenty of gossip and had been sharing random tidbits during our long midnight stole.

    Post Note: I¡¯ve been trying to write only the parts which may matter to a person reading this journal. While it may be amusing to know the corner had been remodeled, and the paint used was an off-shade orange, these facts aren¡¯t exactly relevant to survival. Despite the ¡®game like¡¯ mentality, putting an explosive rune near an off-color bit of wall would result in the exact same exit as exploding a regular wall might provide. There were no secret treasure chests.

    I closed my eyes briefly and could see the brown-skinned woman with dark hair. She¡¯d been incredibly attractive despite the almost alien look. That final moment of desperation and all she could think of was sex.

    ¡°They¡¯re both dead. He got a hole in his throat, fell over, and crushed her.¡±

    Little Shade whistled long and slow. One of the tusked monsters perked up and glanced around, but couldn¡¯t see us. He paused upon seeing the dead mini-orc and watched as his companion¡¯s body turned into light.

    ¡°Treat?¡± the mini-orc said. It sniffed and moved on.

    I contemplated killing the whole lot of them. They were fairly harmless compared to my first day of dealing with them. It helped that I was apparently a sneak.

    We kept going. Little Shade walked through patrols like a ghost. I felt uncertain about my own sneaky nature and took wider paths around them. Eventually we made it up the street, with a right on fifth, and to the fire station.

    The building itself was worn. Concrete driveways showed signs of multiple cracks. Parts of the wall had been chewed on by a large mouth. Wood splintered and metal framing was dented. Cars lined the street on either side, like a wide open dog pen. Filth and debris were pushed to the back of the fire truck garage creating a strange bed.

    ¡°There she be,¡± the young girl said. She was jittery and the brimmed hat kept wiggling up and down. I couldn¡¯t figure out how she managed to be so stealthy with such an obvious accessory.

    The hydra, as they called it, was out and about terrorizing the streets. My young guide and I sat two houses away from its lair. We¡¯d both ¡°sneaked¡± about six miles to reach this spot. I glanced down the street and started assembling any sort of plan.

    I had no clue if I¡¯d be alive by tomorrow night.

 Book 1, Rule 19

    Rule 19

    Rob the Dead & Use Lures

    Statement: Enough of morality for a moment, and back to the puzzle that is this new world. Let¡¯s also¡ªfor a moment¡ªassume I simply accepted having new powers. How does one apply any sort of deductive reasoning to new abilities without the fear of blowing themselves sky high? Make no mistake, I preferred logical situations, but found myself rapidly turning into a creature who operated less on logic and more on instinct.

    Here are some examples. I used the explosive spell out of habit and it made me want to blow up more stuff. I used knives without pause to slice into monsters. I felt my sexual drive increase from what I learned to be a ¡°Nymph¡¯s¡± power. I started to take it for granted that people would simply ignore my presence, as they did Little Shade¡¯s. These became part of my actions, far faster than they should have.

    There were prizes inside the depths of this place. I knew, with certainty, that the hydra guarded more than its life. I wanted to kill it for those special items. Fulfilling Coach Big Balls¡¯s request and having a ¡°safe base¡± was part of the equation. Having been forced to listen to the ladies next door for hours had sparked certain ideas in the back of my mind. Namely, were I of the right mind, could I make them sound a bit more natural. That however, was the nymph spell talking.

    First, I had a boss monster, of sorts, to kill.

    Post Note: A small part of me believed that the worst outcome, death, might actually be a blessing. Don¡¯t mistake this for the desire to quit or give up¡ªI wanted to live and succeed.

    I stood, grinning madly with dagger in hand. Little Shade had vanished somewhere. I didn¡¯t care and proceeded to poke around the area, sticking to walls while moving carefully.

    The creature¡¯s inner lair smelled rancid. Multiple something¡¯s had died inside. There were bits of mini-orcs, ones which hadn¡¯t collapsed into energy orbs. Humans were also turned into meals. I stifled a gag. My free hand plugged both nostrils.

    One of the rear doors was locked. I rattled the handle and wondered why none of my skills included lock picking. It might be possible to blow up the doorway but there was no telling what sort of problems that would cause. Explosions were loud and attracted monsters.

    Such thoughts distracted me from the rank surroundings. Someone had managed to make a smell infinitely worse than an open outhouse, piles of moldy leftovers, and lodged it firmly up my nose. I could taste the heavy air and each blink of eyelids caused water to cascade down.

    It was hard to believe this fire station had been so large inside. It held at least three huge rooms of unless refuse. There was nothing of note inside. I sniffed and the smell twisted my innards. My stomach heaved again and I dashed toward the exit.

    All that exploration didn¡¯t give me any secret ideas on how to kill the monster. I could leave a bomb in its room and fire another from a distance, which I¡¯d thought of before. That ability was only one of the many I¡¯d been given.

    The main problem is this creature could probably heal. I vaguely remembered a story about a hydra from school years ago, during a Greek course in high school. Fire had been a weakness, used by a hero fighting ¡°the hydra¡± but I was no hero and didn¡¯t have fire.

    Maybe I could sit somewhere far away and generate an endless wave of explosives. Throwing them using the knife as a vehicle would work, but required me to be too close.

    Somewhere between dry heaving and rubbing gross snot out of my nose using another shirt, I had an idea. We were sneaks. Little Shade could walk right by mini-orcs without notice. I really could use half of that plan, generating explosives, and maybe Little Shade could walk them in while I created another one.

    It was still night. There were few fires in the distance. Some houses were lit up with small torches.

    ¡°Little Shade?¡±

    I barfed a third, or fourth time right into a burned out car husk.

    She¡¯d said I was a sneak, and mentioned the card which stated [Runed Rogue]. Runed made sense, it had to do with the spells I cast. They formed patterns with five main points. I wondered if some spells might use four fingers, or six. A dozen more ideas flooded my mind and were dismissed quickly.

    Post Note: Yes, the card really said that. It still does, complete with brackets. I had, and continue to have, no idea what that means.

    Rogue must have been tied to the stealth abilities. I had never played role playing games and only knew about them from other people talking. I inferred that games let people use abilities to be invisible to enemies, which was in line with our current situation.

    Now, the possibilities for two rogues were fairly open ended on normal-sized creatures. We could probably eliminate an army of mini-orcs while laughing madly. But a giant monster had defenses simply based on its size.

    ¡°Little Shade?¡±

    I felt sick. Days of compartmentalizing my problems had made this latest round of gross that much ickier. I sucked in a lungful of air and fought conflicting thoughts. Calmly dissecting methods to kill a monster made me wonder exactly what had changed in my life. I couldn¡¯t be that detached, not while heaving up my nearly empty stomach.

    ¡°Little Shade.¡± A groan escaped. I fell to the ground and stared at the fire station¡¯s front doors.

    ¡°Little Lance, you sick? You went inside didn¡¯t you? Gross in there, it is. Went in once. It¡¯s the smell, init. Can¡¯t get it out of your head for days after. Got so bad once, shoved soap up my nose. Stole it from a posh lady who lived in a penthouse of the Shelton, downtown. You know the place? Swanky as fuck. Well¡­ it was.¡±

    She plopped down without an ounce of regard for the puddle of barf a whiff away.

    ¡°Want some? I keep a small bit of it. In case I find places like this. Beats the perfume. Monsters like perfume. Love it. Sent some of those gobbys into fits. Start putting their grubby bits into every hole on the street. Used it once on a playground. Can¡¯t get the image, of their little butts porking away at the seesaw, out of my head. No I can¡¯t.¡±

    Now I couldn¡¯t escape it either. No amount of giggling, from voice in the back in my brain, could drown out a bunch of pint-sized creatures in dirty children¡¯s clothes going at it. I resolved to never unleash perfume of any sort on anyone.

    ¡°Cologne too. That man perfume fellas lie to themselves about by calling it another name. And some shampoos. In case you were interested. You seem like the kind who might care, you do.¡±

    I took a deep breath and pushed past the ill-formed images.

    ¡°We can use it as a lure, we could. But the hydra doesn¡¯t give two shits about the little cock goblins, not her. At best they¡¯re a distraction. Maybe. If we use enough. You know, I¡¯ve never tried a boatload of the stuff, might work.¡±

    There was an idea in her rambling. Admittedly, she¡¯d spouted all sorts of useful tips. It was mixed with a wall of nonsense so separating the two was difficult.

    ¡°To use monsters against monsters?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Sure, ain¡¯t new. I tried once. That I did. Was a lady, back during the first week or two I landed here. She¡¯d mesmerize them or something. Said she bought a voice box from a siren. Didn¡¯t matter. She died. No use to power if monsters find you while you sleep. No there init.¡±

    My shoulders loosened and I almost managed a real smile. She simply babbled a mile a minute but it was oddly comforting. Having anyone to talk to, or who talked at me, was slightly better than being alone for three days with only a growling houseguest.

    That was a weird shift to realize. I looked over at her. There wasn¡¯t any expression to judge by but she sounded worried. Her hands rubbed along bare skin. I sat close enough to know she was in a sleeveless shirt, or a dress. It was either hole-riddled, or had a series of strips that let skin peek through.

    ¡°How far away can those monsters smell from?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Mile or so. Depends on the wind. If you can find a wind ¡®round here. Clouds, they come and go but wind? Ain¡¯t a drop of it half the time. Makes a body wonder how them clouds blow in and out, it does.¡±

    ¡°Can it reach more than mile if we use enough?¡±

    ¡°Maybe. Prolly. Drop half an ocean¡¯s worth and we could lure monsters from all over. Prolly still wouldn¡¯t be enough to kill the big hydra.¡± Little Shade¡¯s head bobbed up and down making the hat scrape against the burned out car.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been thinking about this.¡± I nodded. The air was easier to breathe but I could still smell that foul scent of decaying bodies. It was like meat from a trash can four days later, but with the knowledge that it had been a person.

    ¡°Sure I have. She¡¯s worth a whole heap of money I¡¯m sure. Plus them little orbs. Maybe get an evol outta her. I mean, loaded, she must be, what with being so tough to kill and all. But I ain¡¯t got the juice to finish her. None of the boys are the right kind of tough.¡±

    ¡°What about Toymaker?¡±

    ¡°His stuff doesn¡¯t last more than a day or two. Plus he never leaves. Coach Big Balls won¡¯t let him. Says he¡¯s too valuable an ass to let go free. He is.¡±

    ¡°Then we¡¯ll use a lure, and harass her with explosives.¡±

    Little Shade¡¯s head tilted and the shadow moved enough to reveal a pale shoulder. Once again I wondered why I could see in the dark so easily. ¡°Yah?¡±

    I giggled and stifled the laugh with both hands. They stayed cupped, and slow steady breaths evened me out.

    ¡°Gonna need more, we will. Unless your book of spells gots more power in it. Anything you holding back? Well? Is you?¡±

    I wasn¡¯t sure what method to use to increase our odds. The lure, explosives, reusable knives for throwing, two stealth type people¡ªwe had a lot. My second rune¡ªspell, or whatever¡ªturned me into the brown-skinned form resembling a piece of nature. The wife from before had commanded me with her voice. It might be possible to use the same command on the mini-orcs once they were here.

    ¡°Can you keep a secret?¡±

    ¡°Ain¡¯t that a shit question. Course I can. Why? You got a secret? Maybe we can trade each other for the good ones. My secret, I think Coach Big Balls is a twit, that¡¯s what my momma would have called him. Bonafide royal twittery.¡±

    Secrets. The stewardesses had been all about that word. They were obsessive. I could still hear their words in my head. ¡°A secret only two know is dangerously delicious to keep.¡±

    Little Shade laughed loudly. ¡°Ain¡¯t that the truth. Been talking to those whacko clones, yeah? Bet a secret started all this. I¡¯ll find out one day, that I will. Just need enough funds and supplies, then away I go. Away from Coach Big Balls and this shit city. Off to find the big secrets.¡±

    The money we gathered had to be spent somewhere, or else our cards wouldn¡¯t keep track of a dollar amount still. I worried about the debt card term, and had a nagging feeling that those stewardesses hadn¡¯t been misspeaking when they used the word.

    ¡°Think the hydra will give you enough?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the dream. So we go shopping, then kill her. Then we go shopping again. Like a girl¡¯s wet dream, it is.¡±

    That sounded like a better plan than I¡¯d started with. Spending all my time drunk on moonshine, sleeping, and figuring out new powers hadn¡¯t given me much room to learn monster murdering techniques.

    Shopping was easy enough. It turned out to be reallocating resources from unoccupied homes. An uncouth man might call it robbing the dead, which was technically accurate. Little Shade babbled away during our entire spree. She knew details about every house in the neighborhood. How, or why, was beyond me.

    We ended up with two backpacks full of bottles.

    ¡°So what was it ¡®bout that secret? Eh? You going to show me your lance, Lance? Because you need a rinse and a shave before we do anything.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± I wanted to change forms to the brown-skinned one used with Hawthorn. It would be weird, I was sure, to change in front of another person. ¡°I¡¯ll need a moment.¡±

    ¡°Keep it in your pants, yah? We got things to do, we do.¡± She flipped her hand over and pointed at a door.

    I stepped through the door into an abandoned room. The bedroom was dull and dust lined everything. A computer sat in a corner. Dresser drawers had been pulled out, I grabbed a change of clothes and tore off the dirty ones. It was weird to toss my old clothes in a pile, knowing they¡¯d be abandoned.

    It didn¡¯t matter. I set out my spell book and flipped through the pages. Their smooth mirror surfaces taunted me. Four of the pages were empty, and maybe, if we killed the hydra, I¡¯d get a new ability.

    I flipped back to page two and stared at the brown coloring. It was the same tint as the nymph¡¯s skin. Her face flashed through my mind. Need, anger, frustration, a hint of so many emotions wrapped together in those final moments.

    Last time I used this spell, I¡¯d been drunk out of my mind and woken up a different person. This time the change took more effort. My fingers curled into a pattern that resembled a messed up okay symbol. The brown spell clicked into position and made my toes curl and a gasp of air escaped that was closer to a moan.

    I huffed from the edge of an orgasm that hadn¡¯t been there a moment ago. The feeling spread as my body and mind funneled into a single point upon my hand. A lungful of air later and my edged release doubled in intensity and popped.

    My hand had automatically found its way under the worn shirt. I pressed my fingers against my chest and sensed the rush of narrow-minded energy travel to my chest and spread with pleasant warmth. My body drooped and a wave of dizziness threatened to make me sleep.

    My eyelids fluttered. Once I felt normal, aside from the low buzz centered around my groin and lewd thoughts, I stepped out of the room.

    Little Shade ran her gaze up and down the length of my body. Or at least, I assumed she did. Her shadow casting hat, which reminded me of a reverse lampshade, tilted. ¡°Ain¡¯t that a kick in the pants.¡±

    I smiled, it came easier. My body felt lighter and smoother. An arm lifted with a grace that hadn¡¯t been present a few minutes before. I wondered, briefly, if it were possible to cast the spell upon someone else like the explosive rune.

    ¡°So, let¡¯s blow her to kingdom come before I get distracted, yah?¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I responded.

    Little Shade might be closer to my age then I¡¯d thought. I closed my eyes and smiled to relax. My body responded easily but my mind wondered if her skin was pale all over. There was a roughness to her voice and based on her constant babbling she¡¯d probably be extra vocal during sex.

    I found myself railing off again and stuck a hand into my book to start the black spell. I curled fingers and summoned the blade in a smooth pull. Before it registered, I¡¯d cut my pointer finger with the blade¡¯s edge. The pain barely muted my thoughts.

    ¡°Hustle it. Else we¡¯re going to be here all day. I don¡¯t know bout you but that bed back there was the sweetest thing I¡¯d seen all day. Mostly, it was. Maybe a few things better.¡±

    Post Note: You could imagine exactly what sort of thoughts her musing put into my brain. If you¡¯re reading this, then simply apply your high school earned dirty mind to the thought of a bed, and knowing my libido was going into overdrive. Sure, I moved like a graceful cat, on the prowl for¡­other cats in need.

    She continued her line of babble as we ¡°sneaked¡± back to the hydra¡¯s lair. The bag was heavy as heck and pulled at my shoulders. We couldn¡¯t move fast because most of the items we¡¯d taken were glass bottles. We walked, carefully, back to the fire station. I worried that we¡¯d crack one of the bottles and end up being swarmed like Little Shade had said.

    We stopped outside the fire station and Little Shade shoved a long rope into my hands. I rolled it over and realized it was a sort of nylon or plastic.

    ¡°What¡¯s this for?¡±

    ¡°Rope, useful for lots of stuff. Hanging yourself, hanging other people. Bondage positions. Tying up bad guys. You into that autoerotic self-throttling thing? Good for that too, it is. Not like a tie though.¡±

    I shook my head slowly and fought back a fresh wave of images.

    ¡°Or, since your little constructs fade, maybe you copy this, make one of those fancy versions, then we can hang all these bags above where the hydra naps. Like a time bomb, yah?¡±

    Post Note: I wasn¡¯t thinking straight at the time, or this might have set off alarm bells. I was still thinking heavily on the bondage positions idea. Which was weird, it wasn¡¯t, isn¡¯t, my type of thing¡ªbut something about this form makes anything remotely erotic turn overwhelming.

    I caught up to the timed trap idea. ¡°That¡¯s brilliant.¡±

    It would be too, if the rope could be stored in my palm. There was no telling when I¡¯d need to be able to summon rope. It was an amazingly useful item.

    It worked. Apparently the storing magic didn¡¯t care about size of an object. Feeding the rope into my palm was weird, but I stayed busy prepping it while Little Shade got the bags ready for maximum crashing.

    We, that is, Little Shade, picked the spot, took my rope, and hefted the large bag quickly. Watching a moving blob of shadow pull on a rope made of starlight was almost beautiful. It was distracting enough to drown out the foul smell.

    ¡°Good, yah? Hear it? Coming back now.¡±

    My eyes were closed. The rope would last for at least ten minutes, like the rune did. It should fall apart after that, based on the last day of testing.

    ¡°Almost dawn. We need to move, yah?¡±

    I was not thinking about moving at all. At least, not out of this small room. My thoughts were squarely back on that bed and the nearest female. We both wore entirely too many clothes and she was clearly old enough.

    Post Note: All in my head, I¡¯m fairly sure. As mentioned, I still know very little about Little Shade herself¡ªshe talks, talked, about everything but herself.

    ¡°You there, Little Lance?¡±

    ¡°Yes. You are correct. We should go.¡± I shook off the distraction.

    It felt like we¡¯d taken forever to get ready. The sun was indeed coming up, and in the distance loud roars could be heard; the same noise as the creature that chased Coach¡¯s truck.

    We found a corner outside and I took in the fresh air. Our escape was barely in time. Three large heads loomed over the wall of cars. The monster grunted, shoved one of the cars to the side, and backed up slowly. Two heads sniffed the air and glanced around. The third pushed the car back into place, forming a poor fence door.

    Little Shade had vanished, again. There were no signs of her shadowed form anywhere in the hydra¡¯s yard. I stood in the far corner, in a spot of darkness cast by the rising sun.

    I held my breath and stuck my hand into the spell book, ready to peel off an explosive rune or summon a dagger.

    The hydra walked into the large garage, straight through the broken doors, and sniffed. I worried the creature would notice the hanging bag from ceiling, but apparently it didn¡¯t care or simply never looked up. I held my breath and slid a hand across the explosive rune, pooling red onto fingertips.

    I could see clearly into the large hole. The hydra sat with all three heads facing the doorway. Above its head was the rope. My breath stilled as seconds stretched into minutes.

    Then the rope crumbled into stardust, or whatever it was constructed of. The bag Little Shade had hoisted fell. I flinched as the sound of cracking glass made it across the street to where I hid.

    The hydra¡¯s three heads lifted. It snorted, coughed, and wheezed at the same time, each head performing a different action. Then there was a noise, a low keening whine as the creature¡¯s huge hind legs kicked into the wall.

    And I heard the first mini-orc. Their simplistic rhyming words patterns were hard to mistake. ¡°Treat?¡± it said, from far closer than I¡¯d suspected one to be. The darned creatures were everywhere.

    The boss¡¯s large heads shook and coughed. It managed to focus one watering head toward the mini-orc who poked out through two cars. Its hand wiggled as it squeezed through a crack.

    ¡°Treat!¡± it shouted. More voices echoed. ¡°Eat! Eat! Defeat!¡±

    Mini-orcs poured into the walled off street in droves. My stomach tightened and once again I wondered at the wisdom of this forming chaos. There were two with shotguns, because apparently they grew on trees and worked in the hands of the quickly mobbing creatures.

    I waited another minute as they appeared from every possible crack of the yard. They swarmed straight toward the hydra, which had been settling for a nap in its pigsty lair.

    A reedy voice belonging to one of the lantern wielding mini-orcs shouted from directly above me. I tensed and realized the creature wasn¡¯t even looking at me, but staring at the main hall.

    ¡°Defeat big meat!¡± the fire-wielder responded.

    ¡°Eat! Eat! Beat!¡± the mob responded. More crawled out. I grabbed one and jabbed a knife in its neck without a second thought. The creature¡¯s eyes glazed over. None of the others stopped to care as they ran for the sickeningly sweet smelling monster.

    The fight was on.

 Book 1, Rule 20

    Rule 20

    Perfume is Dangerous & Shotgunners Explode

    Statement: Death is a story until it¡¯s made real. It exists in abstract, as a theory, as a remote concept that applies to other people. There are many, many subjects that are the same. Love, lust, murder, theft. To each of these things we reach a crossroads where impulse and logic war. We don¡¯t know which wins the battle¡ªuntil the choice has passed.

    Here¡¯s the real question¡ªone with no clear answer. Was there ever a choice in the first place? Are we honed by nature, time, and experience¡ªthen fooled into believing we were given an option to choose our fates? Or were we bent to a course, destined to land where we land? I cannot speak for others, for so many choices I¡¯ve had since the event felt like foregone conclusions¡ªas if I had known what I¡¯d decide all along, as if I knew where I¡¯d land.

    I decided that throwing my knife wasn¡¯t the best idea, considering there were literally tons of well-formed objects ripe for being thrown. Instead, I prepped a bomb spell and tossed it into the throng of wildly charging mini-orcs.

    Tracking the tagged monster in a mob of wildly erratic creatures became impossible. They were shouting and literally humping air with each awkward step. One fell down, ten feet from me, and started giving a hole in the ground an absolutely brutal plowing. He thrust away without regard, chanting ¡°treat¡± and grinning.

    Post Note: The first thought through my head was disgust, quickly followed by amazement, since that had to chafe intensely. It didn¡¯t help that he was gnarled, tusk-toothed, and wearing a blazer that probably belonged to some six year old¡¯s basketball team.

    He wasn¡¯t alone. Others stumbled. Their swarming friends charged onward with wide eyes. Each one seemed to be fighting between the urge to hump a hole and reaching the hydra.

    The large monster still sneezed and hissed. Its face had been messed up by the perfumes. Glass shards could be heard crunching between the shouts of mini-orcs. The cracking sound faded as more lusty monsters swarmed.

    I wondered if the hydra might drown under the tidal wave. Studying it would give me an edge.

    There was an explosion. A handful of mini-orcs turned into chunks. The hydra ate three at once and coughed up body parts onto other small attackers. A lantern wielding mini-orc screamed and waved his red light.

    ¡°Defeat!¡± it shouted

    Blood caught fire, including the bits splattered on other mini-orcs. They barely noticed and continued charging toward the large monster, ready to fornicate with every hole in its three heads. I pooled another explosive rune and prayed no one would suddenly notice me.

    I tossed the mark at a mini-orc and missed. It landed on the ground, forming a pattern. Two mini-orcs went flying seconds later.

    My supply wasn¡¯t strictly unlimited. Each additional rune made my head heavier and the world a bit fuzzier. I could maybe do ten, or twelve unless this battle dragged on for a long time.

    The hydra took a deep breath. Two of the heads hissed while the slightly larger middle one puckered its cheeks. I vaguely remembered being in poor shape and seeing the creature toss fire or something at Coach¡¯s truck. It could have been in my head.

    The side two heads turned and yowled. They had large fins or gills on the side that fluttered madly. Green barf or flames or whatever spilled over the crowd of advancing monsters. Those in front melted. More screamed. Three chanting lantern users lifted their torches.

    Blood from the dead and dying pooled into fireballs. The first major attack shook the hearts of the mindless monster train we¡¯d summoned. Still, a few charged, and a lone angry shotgun wielding goblin stood off to the side of the hydra¡¯s heads. His ears were melting gobs. It leveled the gun and blasted the still spitting hydra.

    It roared and reeled back. The other two heads twisted around, grabbed the shotgun wielding monster and chomped. Something clicked. A muffled ¡°Bleat!¡± could be heard. The hydra¡¯s neck bulged as the creature detonated from inside, and not as a result of my explosive runes.

    Post Note: Apparently shotgun wielders are super tough, and blow up when they die. But why didn¡¯t that winged gargoyle not pop? More testing is needed.

    ¡°Retreat!¡± someone shouted.

    ¡°Defeat!¡± I quickly yelled, desperate not to let my cannon fodder escape. They were whittling down the large monster. I readied another explosive spell and slapped it onto a car under one of the lantern wielders.

    So far, they had completely ignored me. Despite there being so many of the monsters they hadn¡¯t discovered me slinking around the battle¡¯s edge.

    ¡°Beat!¡± I shouted encouragements. More creatures poured in. They weren¡¯t running out.

    Some were dumb enough to believe it. Others shouted conflicting orders. The hydra wailed through it all. It was being hurt, but still winning.

    I readied another explosion and slapped it onto the back of a mini-orc. It flinched then lifted a weapon.

    ¡°Defeat!¡± I shouted, giving it my best high-pitched shrill.

    The hydra ate another shotgun carrier, and two of its heads lifted a car to throw it. Fireballs slammed into its side in retaliation.

    ¡°Feat?¡± someone asked.

    ¡°For treat!¡± I insisted.

    ¡°Defeat! Treat! Meat,¡± the dumb creatures echoed as they ran.

    My earlier bomb carrier made it ten steps before blowing up. That marked my third attempt at turning one of these creatures into a walking bomb. Ten paces wasn¡¯t a lot and would put me in range of that breath weapon. My grand plan of using mini-orcs as unwitting suicide bombers wasn¡¯t going well.

    There were no signs of any creatures turning into orbs either. The mess simply got bigger. Piles of melting and still glowing goo lined the hydra¡¯s front yard. I waited, sure there¡¯d be more mini-orcs cascading in. After all, in the first few minutes we¡¯d had about fifty, and were rapidly working up to one hundred more. The smell hadn¡¯t carried that far yet.

    It had to be magic. There was no other explanation for a hoard of monsters appearing out of virtually no-where. Or I might be dreaming. I lost my step and simply stared at the unfolding chaos.

    ¡°Beat!¡± a mini-orc shouted.

    They were riled up. The smell had reached me but didn¡¯t seem strong enough. The hydra¡¯s acid breath might have done something, or the mini-orc¡¯s fire magic. I said a prayer of thanks that Little Shade had thought about those perfume lures. The middle head took a breath and the side heads hissed.

    I¡¯d seen it once, now I had to test out the effects. Range, damage, and if I could interrupt it.

    My vision dimmed and arm tingled as another explosive rune came to life. The book at my waist burned with pleasant heat. I slapped a vaguely toss-able piece of metal with the spell and lined up a shot.

    The makeshift missile missed the mouth and slammed into a side head. It reeled from the boom. One head hissed as the other twisted and writhed. Green acidic flame cut off as the third head stared at its side head in confusion.

    Post Note: Honestly, I was confused too. A creature with three heads is weird, especially when they can act independently.

    It wasn¡¯t enough. That one explosive had torn part of the creature¡¯s hide. Mini-orcs swarmed. I needed to kill them all and clear the place out. They were intent upon fighting each other but still in my way.

    Admission: In hindsight, it would have been better to let them sort each other out¡ªthen clean up the leftovers. Yet, in the moment, it was impossible for me to consider such a course of action. I wanted to be the one to kill the tougher monsters. The shotgun wielders, the lantern bearers, and that fire truck-sized hydra. <u>I wanted to kill them personally.</u>

    I ran my hand along the book¡¯s thick pages counted to three, and pooled black energy. The knife pulled out from one palm and hung in the air, long enough for me to grab it with my other hand.

    ¡°Defeat!¡± a lantern user shouted. A pocket of mini-orcs turned toward me with raised golf clubs, toy swords, and pieces of fencepost. ¡°Eat!¡± they chattered, this time at me.

    I¡¯d fought a few at a time, this was a lot more in a small scale war zone. Within a few seconds, I summoned an explosive rune in my right hand. The gesture was the same as using the left but mirrored. I¡¯d practiced both methods.

    One monster charged me. My foot shot out and planted into the creature¡¯s face. It reeled back waving a fence post club. Two more swung and a fireball formed from fallen mini-orc blood. This one was not going toward the hydra.

    Fire crackled as the mini-orc shouted their annoyingly repetitive phrases.

    ¡°Retreat!¡± I shouted. A dimwitted mini-orc actually flinched. I shoved my summoned blade into its neck and spun while tossing an explosive rune with freakish accuracy under the lantern wielder. All those years using a Frisbee and softball had finally paid off.

    It went boom. A dozen mini-orcs splattered. The fireball missed, I assumed it was due to the now dead lantern user. The hydra stomped out of its cubbyhole and squished enemies as it headed straight for us.

    One of the shotgun wielders turned toward me. The hydra took another breath in the background. A smaller head hissed and bit a mini-orc in two.

    I killed two of the worthless mini-orcs and ran out of range. The hydra moved slowly while blasting a spray of green fire. I wove past a shotgun wielder. He turned and fired, catching my arm in a spray of damage that sent me sprawling. Behind me, enemies melted. Their bodies joined the deformed pile of goo on the pavement. Acid continued to eat through the ground with a bubbling hiss.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    My body rolled out of habit. The pavement scraped skin raw and tore a hole in my borrowed pants. I stifled a scream but couldn¡¯t stop tears from filling my eyes. Dozens of those darned creatures swarmed me. From the blur, it felt like being in the car wreck again, with people looking down at me as I suffered waves of pain.

    I scrambled to get upright, no longer cocky in my ability to fight. The ground grew cold, despite the heat from that strange breath. A shadow passed over me and robbed my eyesight. I yelled, terrified at being helpless.

    Post Note: I¡¯d thought those times were behind me, but clearly trauma appears at the worst moments. Was my desire to fight recklessly tied to some attempt at regaining my self-confidence? What good did being reckless do me if I died as a result?

    The darkness was deep and empty. Sight vanished, along with sound, and finally my sense of time. I couldn¡¯t say how long I hung there, trying to feel my fingers or any hint of reality. It was like a waking coma.

    A sharp pressure in my eye socket grew in intensity. Warmth blossomed as quickly as it¡¯d vanished and I screamed from the onslaught. My skin burned. One hand grasped around something protruding from my eye. The other extended, driving a starry blade forth into a mini-orc¡¯s chest.

    It was dead, hanging loosely on my blade. A pile of dead combatants lay scattered across the yard. Water blurred my other eye¡¯s vision. The sound of my hoarse screams felt like background noise as the pain clicked off.

    My muscles twitched but were nearly numb. Abruptly the screams ended. I grabbed the obstruction in my eye and pulled. The sound of squishing made me gag. There was a scream as something nearby died. I fought to keep myself level headed and instead beat two mini-orcs to death with the fire poker that had been in my eye.

    I swung at another creature, hooking part of its neck. There was a light tug as its body jerked to one side. The screaming made me smile. Mini-orcs died in clumps. Many twitched on the ground. I tilted my head to get the sweat pooling in another direction. More creatures died. I stepped on one¡¯s head, kicked another, and beat a third into submission. Each one made me happier.

    The hydra reeled as well. One head lay on the ground, being dragged along. The big middle one recovered first, lifting up. Somehow that darkness had resulted in one of them being useless.

    My other eye fluttered shut as pain continued to jolt me in spurts. Whatever I¡¯d been turned into, Hawthorn, or oddly cold blooded killer Lance, I could block the agony and still function. But it wasn¡¯t enough to remove the hurt completely.

    I stepped forward and fell sideways as a leg gave out. The pain didn¡¯t register, but the sudden tilting sensation and failure of my hands to extend were giveaways.

    Post Note: Being unable to feel pain also means being unable to feel muscle reactions. I¡¯d equate it to being on the best drugs ever while trying to function.

    The enemy took a breath. I grabbed a club from a dead mini-orc, charged my spell, and threw it before the hydra could breathe its nasty green fire. This time the explosion caught its main head. Mini-orcs screamed. I got up and hobbled forward, pooling another spell intent upon letting loose.

    My fingers burned and refused to be muted. It was worse than my eye, which was simply malfunctioning, if such a term could be applied to a probably damaged beyond repair body part.

    ¡°I¡¯ll live through this,¡± I muttered through grinding teeth.

    A smarter man would have survived by simply not fighting such a powerful creature. For all my attempts at logical thought processes, intelligent, I was not.

    A hole was visible on the hydra¡¯s side that hadn¡¯t been there before. My earlier blast that had gone wide left a spot to throw another explosion. I shuffled faster and took care not to let my leg give way again.

    I had to end this fight, before fear and panic won. Staying steady was impossible. Instead I leaned with the motion and stumbled for the wounded side. Mini-orc voices faded into background noise.

    The larger head intercepted me, preparing a new breath of acid or flame. I reacted on instinct, driving my dagger into its looming eye socket, my body splayed across its opening jaw. The hydra¡¯s mouth clamped shut as it drew back. It howled, lifting me away. Green liquid escaped from its jaws, burning my arm off and separating my hand from the dagger.

    I hardly felt anything, but screamed anyway. It roared from a garbled, spit filled throat. Its other head bent over the middle one, preparing to bite me. My already dim vision turned into a narrow spot. Only witnessing the monster chomp dozens of mini-orcs gave me a clue what was happening.

    The monster¡¯s roar was cut off by a fresh boom sounding. The main head writhed and thrashed. My body flung one way as its head flopped the other.

    I banged into a wall and lay gasping for air. It refused to come. The good hand moved in uneven jerks, reaching for the spell book. I¡¯d go down fighting.

    There was another boom, then another, and a third. The monster roared. I told my arm to scoop out the spell and toss the rune pattern toward the hydra, but I couldn¡¯t feel or see anything. I only heard cries.

    The mini-orcs shouted conflicting orders of ¡°Treat¡± ¡°retreat¡± and occasionally ¡°too leet.¡±

    ¡°Retreat,¡± I shouted in garbled tones. All this would do me no good if those damn scavengers were still around, thrusting their badly covered pelvises in holes. Hopefully whatever bewitching powers the dirt woman had had would also work for me. They¡¯d been listening to my orders earlier.

    It grew quiet. I thought about wiping away my eye, and must have, because the small tunnel of vision I was operating out of became clearer.

    The hydra stood, staring at me with one eye. The other two heads were dead and my black star made dagger sat in the other eye socket. Then its back leg buckled. The creature swayed and fell to the ground.

    I took deep breaths and almost felt elation. My body was too numb for the tingling sensation to make it through.

    All around, mini-orcs were dead in droves. I watched, waiting to see if the hydra would heal, but the semi-truck-sized creature didn¡¯t stir. I didn¡¯t stop staring until its body turned into glowing yellow orbs, and my dagger clattered upon the ground. Eyelids fluttered as the realization that this giant boss creature gave no special powers hit me. All that work, the near death, an endless hoard of mini-orcs, for some so-far useless orbs.

    The idea that I¡¯d near killed myself made my heart patter rapidly. Drumming filled my ears and slowly faded to background noise. Other bits of light fluttered and spun. There were no more mini-orcs anywhere that I could see. Maybe they¡¯d all fluttered away in ¡°retreat¡± from the madness of multiple explosions. Any scent of perfume had faded, replaced by char and ash.

    Even more light flew into Little Shade, who stood in the distance. She hung against a wall with her arms tightly around her waist. The darkness that had surrounded her was faint, almost natural.

    She¡¯d earned part of the kill somehow. Maybe whatever magic ran this world simply considered her contribution of the perfume lure to be valuable. That large sightless effect was probably hers which might have given her orbs.

    She pushed away from a wall and swayed. The dark nimbus around her filled in once more. Little Shade scared me. It was that simple. My body slipped forward. Pain laced up my stomach and down one arm. I couldn¡¯t feel my legs. I had run out of nearby weapons to use and ended up shoving my arm into the hydra¡¯s body with explosive spells attached.

    My forearm was gone. I stared at my brown-skinned stump and marveled at the lack of pain and slowly knitting flesh. I wondered if this was what video game characters felt like when they magically healed after big fights.

    ¡°Well. I¡¯ma go inside and explore. You know, before the heat of battle and that magic skin you slipped on make me drop my panties and take you for a roll. Mmhm. Ain¡¯t fair when a man¡¯s muscles move like that. No it¡¯s not.¡± Her shadow doused head shook. ¡°All glistening. I bet your sweats made of pure crack, it is. What¡¯d them Greeks call it? Ambrosia. Bet it¡¯s like that. Too bad you¡¯re all broken there. Maybe fancy a tangle after you don¡¯t look like road kill, yah?¡±

    I blinked. She was insanely unfiltered in speech. The passive sounding lust was probably a side effect of my current form. I chuckled to myself and followed the quickly escaping woman inside. Prizes were waiting for us and the foul smell inside would be enough to keep me from being distracted.

    It took more time to reach the doorway than expected. A few minutes passed while I healed. I wanted to see the prizes inside but nothing moved right. It was full on daytime by the time I braved standing. My body moved poorly, I used a wall to brace myself and slowly went inside.

    The place was wide open after all the explosions. That hydra body had smashed and broken half the walls to compound the damage. I couldn¡¯t remember any of that, but it hadn¡¯t been there during my earlier exploration, so it must have been from the fight. The majority of the damage had probably happened as my vision dimmed and arm pumped out explosive spells.

    Little Shade kneeled in front of the locked door. A dozen dead mini-orcs lay around her, with their heads separated from tiny bodies.

    They turned into light orbs as I walked up, implying fresh kills. She fiddled at the door while I watched a cascade of lights come pouring in from the deceased bodies outside. They were taking longer than normal, but it might be because of how many dead creatures had been left in our wake.

    Even some of the dead bodies inside the hydra¡¯s den were fading. It implied the system which governed our new world could separate out monster kills by damage done. It was yet another bit of nonsense to take into consideration. I debated the merits of taking the majority of a kill then leaving other people to clean it up.

    The door creaked open. Little Shade bolted inside, I felt far less urgent. My body was sluggish from the damage being healed. Vision had yet to recover in one eye. I fought a wave of panic and muttered, ¡°I¡¯ll be okay.¡±

    It was like that darn car accident all over again, only I¡¯d done it to myself. The pain was worse, if I thought about it.

    A scuffling sound came from inside. I stepped into the room. Wrappers were everywhere, torn packages, and a small window that let in a waft of foul air. Someone had been camping in here.

    ¡°Well shit,¡± Little Shade muttered. I couldn¡¯t tell where she actually stood.

    A small shaft of light gave me something to see by, not that I really needed it. Two very tall people huddled in the back. They cowered in the corner with comically lengthy bodies despite being in a fetal position.

    They were elves, straight out of the movies. I may have been ignorant on the original names of those goblins or hydras, but everyone on the planet knew what an elf was.

    ¡°You ain¡¯t be bringing them back to the camp,¡± my stealthy companion said in a rush that almost sounded like gibberish.

    I turned toward her voice and raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Coach Big Balls, he¡¯ll enslave them, like he done everything else. They¡¯ll kill him¡±¡ª Little Shade¡¯s pale hand came out of the darkness like a ghostly limb to point at the male¡ª¡°and use her as a sex slave. Like the others.¡±

    The elves tried to grow smaller and failed.

    I focused on a different word altogether. ¡°Others?¡±

    ¡°Four. Elves. These ain¡¯t the first. You¡¯d think they were scary on account of all the movies, but they¡¯re powerless. Something happened to them.¡± Little Shade hopped causing the dark blob that made up her outline to gyrate wildly. She rambled on and I only caught parts of it.

    In short, there were fantasy people being held prisoner by Coach Big Balls. Or Madison, or whatever his name was. She babbled in spurts of facts that she¡¯d apparently sneaked around to find out. I was able to establish the following by listening to Little Shade¡¯s fevered rambles.

    Someone in Coach Madison¡¯s camp could enslave other people.

    They only enslaved those useful in some form.

    I would be enslaved as well if I came back alive.

    Those enslaved had black chokers tattooed onto their necks.

    Absolutely none of it rang a bell and Little Shade could have been lying. She pointed to her own neck multiple times but I couldn¡¯t see past the darkness cast by her large brimmed hat.

    ¡°So you can¡¯t take them to Coach Big Balls.¡±

    Little Shade wiped her forehead as though she was sweating. I couldn¡¯t tell for sure.

    The hydra was dead. That was the deal I¡¯d made with Coach Madison, but I detested his very existence if he was really enslaving people. That practice bothered me. Here we were, kidnapped in mass, subjected to an insane situation, and someone had the nerve to inflict further harm onto our own kind. It made my stomach turn.

    I had to pause and remember that these elves, if that¡¯s what they were, were not ¡°our own kind.¡± They were another kind of humanoid. Maybe they had been changed. It occurred to me that they hadn¡¯t said a single word since our arrival. While Little Shade had had a bout of verbal diarrhea, they¡¯d cowered.

    Post Note: I¡¯ve wondered what brought on the sudden vile turn of my guts at this revelation. It might have to do with my changed nature. We were all subjected to something, such as the woman with dark skin and her giant husband. Or perhaps I¡¯d hit a wall. It might have been standing there¡ªat a crux between two choices. Save the elves, enslave the elves, or kill them (Which the giggling voice in the back of my mind repeatedly suggested).

    ¡°I can take them to my dad,¡± I said. We could take them to the man who had left a note at my house and a large monster that ate other creatures. I briefly wondered who would have won, the hydra with its acid fire, or the giant horse with wings and a stony face. The easy bet would have been the hydra, but the other creature could fly and walk through walls.

    ¡°Kay. We¡¯ll do that, but I need something else first.¡±

    My arm scabbed over rapidly. It could potentially go even faster if I pulled off this ¡°Hawthorn¡± disguise, but the elves were enraptured despite cowering, and stared at me with what might have been longing. It was hard to tell what their wide eyes, huddled forms, and grasping hands meant.

    As for Little Shade¡¯s roadblock of an idea, I didn¡¯t feel too worried. Everyone in this new world wanted something. The old reality hadn¡¯t been much different. It was like those quests people used to talk about at school.

    ¡°What?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Midge the Tattletale. I need to free her.¡±

    She made less sense than normal. I felt too exhausted to argue.

    ¡°Okay.¡± I nodded. ¡°But we need rest first.¡±

 Book 1, Rule 21

    Statement: What is the point of a card with words on it? Why track the items they did? It¡¯s an underlying question that threatens to turn the entire world into a death game. Every single person, who¡¯d been human, had one of these cards. Yet, the store owners also used them.

    Much like the line, our need for money continued. We are provided funds for killing monsters, plus we get colored orbs. It is a game, of sorts. One where failure results in death. The stakes of life, or a chance at a lifetime as the stewardesses had said, didn¡¯t make it less of a contest. Who then, are we playing against? Is it this ¡°Secret King¡±? Or is it less sinister, with the enemies being each other?

    We, being me, hobbled to a nearby house. It didn¡¯t matter which one, they were all available. Little Shade picked a lock and let us into the new place. The inside was relatively untouched, unlike all the houses we¡¯d be in with broken doors. Those places had been picked over by mini-orcs but they apparently had a hard time with doors.

    I had a harder time walking. Months of practice with the crutches helped me know how much I could take and, at the moment, that wasn¡¯t a lot. My body kept mending, starting with my eyesight, then the busted leg. By the time I reached a bed, I could see, walk better, and happily eat an entire cow.

    Healing used energy and left me wiped. I couldn¡¯t pin an exact ratio but it would help me to test it out, in the far, far, future. Maybe it would be a next week task.

    Little Shade herded both elves into another room and spoke to them in quiet tones that I couldn¡¯t understand. The words flowed weird and connected in a long stream that reminded me of the foreign script put into books. I lay on an untouched bed and smelled the leftover scent of a person who never returned home. The thought bothered me, but not enough to get up.

    I pulled the card from my pocket. Despite the fight, acid, explosions and general destruction of the last day, the card remained pristine and untouched. It had over one thousand dollars on it, though the money symbol was a bit strange. I¡¯d earned less than that during the initial line and came away with a powerful spell book.

    A dozen thoughts fluttered through and each one became harder to grasp. I remembered the taste of steak and wondered if there were any functional barbecues that had survived the end of the world.

    The door creaked open and I worked to rouse myself. Heavy eyelids prevented me from waking completely. A dark blob in the doorway hinted at Little Shade¡¯s presence.

    ¡°You awake, brown man?¡± Her sharp voice shook me.

    ¡°Correct,¡± I mumbled. Idly, I remembered peeling away this form would speed my healing. It took too much effort to lift myself, plus the mild buzz of arousal helped distract me from the terrible reality of being half broken.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be okay, yah?¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    ¡°Then you¡¯ll be able to help me soon?¡±

    I hummed and focused on the ceiling light. It was strange how much I missed electricity. The fact that those creatures had somehow altered such basic physics was also downright perplexing. Lightning still flashed some nights, which meant that channeling it through copper wires should have been feasible.

    Little Shade was talking and I hadn¡¯t been paying attention. I tuned in and heard, ¡°You go in there, find Midge the Tattletale. She¡¯s tied to that table by a gold chain. Just erase the markings or break the chain. Either one will be enough and Midge will be free.¡±

    The small fantasy cartoon character must be Midge. It made sense, given that she had known all about my ability with a glance. The faerie, or whatever, had known more about me than I did even after days of experimenting.

    ¡°That sounds dangerous.¡±

    ¡°Midge is harmless on her own. She¡¯s like a babbling Tinkerbell, she is. We need her though. She knows too many secrets and we ain¡¯t leavin¡¯ that kind of knowledge in Coach Big Balls¡¯s hands.¡±

    It was apparent that Little Shade wouldn¡¯t leave me alone until we hashed out this mission of hers.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you go in there?¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t. Ordered not to, I am.¡±

    Her word choice left a lot to be desired. I assumed she meant the slavery issue somehow included certain rules, such as not stealing or breaking free Coach Big Balls¡¯s, or Madison¡¯s belongings. It was one way to stay in charge.

    I turned to one side and stared at her through half closed eyes. They kept falling shut while the blob of darkness almost looked bashful. From what I recalled of Greek history, fighting mythological beings was a feat worthy of the Gods¡¯s attention. I wanted at least a day¡¯s rest before being hounded.

    ¡°So I can¡¯t help you sneak into the camp. Not like I have been. You¡¯ll be utterly alone. But, here¡¯s the kicker, Midge will trade money, like what we just earned, for secrets. The kind we need to survive. Yah? Init a good deal?¡±

    That word was so freaking important to everyone. I didn¡¯t entirely understand how or why the idea of secrets played into this world. Nearly every ¡°secret¡± spouted so far felt more like common sense. Save my money, don¡¯t tell people my full name, don¡¯t share my secrets.

    My nephew had once told me, loudly, in my ear, a secret. It was a stupid one, involving a toy he¡¯d hidden inside the back of his closest. It mattered to him, it didn¡¯t matter to me. The thought of him, and the rest of my family, made me sour.

    ¡°Not your thing? Secrets are as a good as gold, they are. Once found a secret stash, that¡¯s how I got my hat. Yah? A woman sold them clones a small treasure she did. She told ¡®em that her favorite hat was lost under her bed. Them stewardesses acted like it was a verbal orgasm, falling over each other. ¡±

    Little Shade stepped close and tipped the wide brim down.

    ¡°She didn¡¯t make it. A lot of people threw her into one of the exits, they did. So I knew where she¡¯d lived. A posh lady, found her hat, lifted it for myself.¡± Little Shade spread her hands wide past the shroud of darkness and spun. ¡°See? Secrets lead to treasures, that they do. And Midge the Tattletale knows a grip of them.¡±

    She wouldn¡¯t leave me alone to rest. It aggravated me. I grunted, pulled covers over myself and said, ¡°We can talk about it after I heal.¡±

    I fumbled for a blanket¡¯s edge with my missing hand and felt my heart skip at the sight. The stump had grown a bit longer, a clear sign of healing, that or I was turning into some monster. I used the other arm to pull the cover tight and clutched my broken limb close.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°I¡¯ll heal from this. I need time,¡± I whispered.

    Sleep did not come easily. The elves and Little Shade continued talking in their funny language. I wanted to ask how she¡¯d learned it, but that was probably a ¡°secret¡± too.

    It took two days to recreate a limb. Little Shade disappeared frequently, leaving me with two elves who refused to talk in my presence. My body shut down frequently and I knew someone who cared was around because food would appear in a pile next to me. They were mostly cans of cold dollar pastas in questionable sauce. The food was delicious.

    When awake, I¡¯d contemplate the terrible situation and wonder if there was a secret that would solve it all. I couldn¡¯t see how, but something messy had started this nonsense. There were no obvious reasons why a bunch of women came out of nowhere to kidnap us. At the end of two days I had answers and a bunch of unsubstantiated theories.

    I woke up on the second day and stared at two unmarred hands without comprehension. My fingers waved slowly while my eyes watered from muddled happiness. The act of passing time hadn¡¯t been easy. I¡¯d spent most of it in bed, with only the occasional awkward trip to the bathroom, where at least plumbing still functioned.

    There were notes on the nightstand. They made no sense and weren¡¯t in English, like every other written word in this entire place. I scanned the page multiple times and turned it over. There was a picture on the back that grew in detail as I watched.

    Allegra¡¯s face formed. At least, I was fairly sure the art belonged to her. The lines were fine and shading intense. She¡¯d had a power that let her perform magic using pencils and maybe Allegra could send messages.

    There were no words on the back. Her face slowly grew smaller and excess pencil lead swam across the page¡¯s back to form a new picture. I wiggled my nose and cupped a hand over my face. It¡¯d been four days, maybe, since we¡¯d handled the dungeon together. I knew Little Shade better than Allegra.

    The picture shifted to a question mark that danced on the page. It swam to a map of our neighborhood and a few suns and moons. I took that to mean they were going to be a couple blocks away at sunrise a few days later. It was that or they were telling me the city would be crushed by a series of fireballs and meteors.

    The different pictures repeated a few times. I wasn¡¯t sure how to signal back to her, or if Allegra could even see me. She must have been able to or there wouldn¡¯t be a message on the one piece of paper I happened to pick up.

    I set it down and went to the bathroom. When I returned, the elves held the piece of paper. They ignored me and passed it back and forth, turning the object over in search of hidden meanings. One flipped it, tilted their head and wiggled long ears at whatever they saw.

    ¡°It¡¯s a message for me,¡± I said slowly.

    They lifted their heads to stare at me and blinked. Neither one spoke.

    ¡°Did Little Shade write the front?¡±

    They said nothing.

    I sighed and frowned. Expecting a response had been stupid of me. They went back to the paper, searching for a secret that didn¡¯t exist.

    There were some supplies around the room, but not much. The one benefit to all these abandoned houses was a long list of kitchen knives. Searching for guns was pointless, but I did find an empty jar and loaded it up with supplies from a drawer in the laundry room. This time I packed a perfume bottle as well.

    Post Note: Paying attention in chemistry might have helped me learn how to combine products under the sink into something useful. I¡¯m hoping to figure out how to read this strange script one day and search for answers in a library¡ªbut not the one Coach Madison staked out.

    Little Shade didn¡¯t show up. I couldn¡¯t tell exactly how much time passed, but eventually decided to go about freeing Midge on my own. If she could sell secrets that led to magical items, it would be worth investigating. Worst case scenario, the people would see me, and hopefully still give me some space after killing the hydra.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be back,¡± I told the elves.

    They ignored me. I shook my head and realized they could probably take care of themselves to an extent. That room we¡¯d found them in had been lived in for days and Little Shade would be back with food eventually. She cared about their welfare.

    I prayed she did. There were food supplies in the house that would tide them over for a few days. By then, I should be done with Midge, or dead from my jailbreak attempt going horribly wrong. The clothes in this person¡¯s house hung loosely. They must have been a bigger person.

    The streets were disturbingly empty. I took a few wrong turns but eventually honed in on the red housing. My hand stayed in the spell book, ready to launch the exploding spell at enemies. None showed up. Considering the sheer number that had died to the hydra, it made sense that the streets were empty.

    I wandered into the sea of red painted houses. I peeked into one of the windows and felt startled at what lay inside. These houses were full of scrounged goods and stored items. Piles of boxes contained bars of soap, toiletries, baby diapers, and a literal ton of goods. And that was only what I could see from the window.

    Each house nearby was much the same. It was amazing. Gathering this from our town must have taken a lot of work and time. There were heavy bars on the doors and window. Not even a mini-orc could get into these houses, maybe.

    Boards lay between the roofs of some buildings, making shitty walkways. I eyed them while slowly stepping forward.

    ¡°Hey!¡± someone shouted.

    I¡¯d become so used to be ignored that I ignored the man yelling and searched for mini-orcs instead.

    ¡°Hey, you! Who are you?¡±

    The voice sounded vaguely familiar.

    ¡°Don¡¯t move,¡± someone much closer said.

    I froze and shifted my eyes to the side. A man with a crossbow was right next to me. The bolt aimed at my head. My first reaction wasn¡¯t fear or a sudden retreat, instead I wondered if it were possible to heal from an arrow to the head.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± another man said. I stayed locked on the crossbow wielder. He was unshaven and dirty. He sniffed and waved the weapon at me.

    ¡°Well?¡± the other person said.

    Theo, complete with his half a highly tailored business suit, walked my way with a sword pointing out. His clothes were much cleaner than the other man¡¯s.

    The crossbow man shuffled to one side, so that we weren¡¯t all standing in a line. ¡°I say we shoot first then let God sort him out.¡±

    ¡°You know the rules. Anything with a brain gets brought to the doctor for processing.¡±

    There, on Theo¡¯s neck, was a black band, or tattoo. It was in the same long squiggly lines that letters turned into. Now that I knew what to look for the signs were more obvious. Little Shade had been telling the truth.

    The other man had a tattoo as well, half hidden under the scraggly beard.

    There were two questions that came to mind.

    <ol>

    <li> Why could they see me, but monsters couldn¡¯t?</li>

    <li> Why hadn¡¯t I taken off the brown-skinned form so they¡¯d recognize Lance?</li>

    </ol>

    ¡°Nod if you can understand me,¡± Theo said.

    I nodded.

    ¡°Who are you?¡±

    My monster murdering skills weren¡¯t high enough to slap away the crossbow and knife them. They weren¡¯t monsters or mini-orcs. They weren¡¯t even transformed humans like the nymph woman and her husband. The only small mercy was their gender. Putting a woman in front of me would have resulted in a whole host of lewd thoughts.

    I knew from prior experience that lying was impossible, but there were no rules that prevented me from choosing not to respond. Being silent would be rude so I simply said, ¡°That is a secret.¡±

    Theo¡¯s face pitched tightly. ¡°Is it now?¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    ¡°Have it your way then. Turn around, or my friend will put a bolt in your head.¡±

    Theo spoke more to me now, when I wore a stranger¡¯s skin, than he ever had to ¡°Lance.¡±

    I laughed quietly and turned slowly. They were going to tie me up and take me to the very base I¡¯d been walking toward.

    Maybe, if I was really lucky, they¡¯d bring me to this person enslaving people and I could shove an explosive rune down their throat. The idea made me smile and laugh harder. My mirth died as it occurred to me that I might be turned into a slave as well.

    One of the two hit me, causing my leg to buckle. I fell to the side and lost my backpack. My hand braced against the ground. Red energy glowed on splayed fingertips. I adjusted my fingertips and flung the forming spell toward my backpack.

    The spell glommed on. Neither man noticed the forming rune and its glowing points. I curled into a tight ball. The crossbow carrier stood above me, pointing a potentially problematic projectile in my direction.

    The jar exploded. A yell and thwack of noise occurred at the same time. Sharp pressure jolted through my arm. I grit my teeth, got up and bolted past Theo¡¯s rocking form. He clutched his face, and I almost felt guilty.

    But most of me felt amused. I resumed chuckling. It was uncontrollable, a reaction to the absurd madness of this new world and the choices I continued to carry out. Setting off a bomb next to me wasn¡¯t on the bucket list. If that wasn¡¯t on the list, being enslaved with a tattoo would never register at all.

    ¡°Breach!¡± Theo yelled. ¡°Intruder at the stockpiles!¡±

    The amused noises were giving me away. I clamped my hands over my mouth, stumbled through the buildings and found a corner to huddle in. Coach Madison¡¯s people would soon be swarming this area.

    I heard a faint voice that could have come from miles away. It said, ¡°Treat?¡±

 Book 1, Rule 22

    Statement: The laughing bothered me. I did it with little control, and at situations that a normal person would have balked at or shown revulsion. Those emotions of disgust were there, but lost under mirth. Is it madness, or a sign of my mind breaking? Is it magic, or a taste of what had always lain underneath? I¡¯m scared that the answer to any of these questions may be ¡°yes.¡±

    There I stood, between an angry mob of raiders with rocket launchers and guns, and a small swarm of invading mini-orcs. The monsters wouldn¡¯t last long and should serve as a distraction at best. That would hopefully last me long enough to sneak, with a bit more effort and less blind faith, into Coach Madison¡¯s camp.

    I peeled off the Hawthorn disguise. If nothing else, that would help me be recognized by Coach Madison and allow me to pretend I was not the bomber. Even if Theo tattled, I was a pale white teen and not a defined brown-skinned half-monster.

    Bleating sounds of mini-orcs could be heard in the distance. The guards, all men from the sounds of it, shouted orders at each other.

    I moved slowly toward the library. The barricade of vehicles and wood on the far side came into view. Trailers lay in a neat row. I cringed upon remembering the almost nonstop sound of moaning, especially in light of Little Shade¡¯s statement that they were slaves.

    My mind raced, searching for an answer. This place was a fortress filled with people who were loyal to Coach Madison. I briefly wondered why he hadn¡¯t turned me into a slave as well. There was no time to worry about that now.

    Chaos would serve me well. Setting free the slaves, if it were possible to do so, would be the best way to turn this place upside down. The stewardesses¡¯ tip, one of many, had been to pay attention to the hints.

    The best place to wait for a slaver would be near the most frequently used slaves. That¡¯s what my intuition told me. It made no sense that a person who could enslave other people would pass on ¡®free¡¯ sex.

    I paused near a building and cupped both hands over my mouth and nose. This would be disastrous. Theo and his companion were enslaved. They might be following orders or choosing to bring people in. I suspected a bit of both. There might be even more out scouting the neighborhood.

    People relayed orders. A bell rang in the library, loud enough to be heard outside, likely an alarm of sorts. There was security here that hadn¡¯t been present at my house. It was civilization. I pondered, only briefly, what removing a unifying force would do to this place. The sense of right and wrong had warped a bit.

    Then the darned moaning started up again, coming from the trailer nearby. I slunk off between buildings, past the place I¡¯d spent half a day, and up to the window of the location.

    Three figures were inside, going at it hot and heavy. The man in the middle had a tattoo around his neck as well, but it was gold instead of black like the other two I¡¯d seen. He was completely oblivious to me and balls deep in a short woman with furry feet. I glanced twice, once to confirm the guy inside might be the slave master. The second time was to double check her furry feet.

    The golden tattoo had to be the right sign. Somewhere in Little Shade¡¯s endless rambles she¡¯d mentioned such a person. That one man held the reins over all others. The symbolism of a man in charge of others having their own slave collar, fancy gold or not, was too large to ignore.

    As for his choice of bedmates, it was out of place but at the same time, made perfect sense. I mean, of course he was screwing a woman with feet that might have belonged to a rabbit or dog. There were tusked half-sized people being killed a few blocks away. There was a faerie on a table inside the nearby building. Feet were far from disturbing.

    I slid along the trailer door and kept an eye out for enemies. Along the way, my hands slipped into the book for a black spell. Energy tingled all along the inside of my hand and fingertips.

    ¡°Oh yeah, Master, just like that. Your horse cock is hitting me in all the right spots.¡± The woman being, handled, devolved into a moan while the third companion rubbed her chest along the man¡¯s back.

    Beneath the second woman¡¯s red hair was a black collar. It was offset by cheap white lingerie and gaunt skin. They had all that food stockpiled and weren¡¯t eating well. Maybe sex slaves were kept too busy.

    The man growled. ¡°Lacey, you better be getting ready back there. You¡¯re next.¡±

    The black tattoo shimmered as a lace of gold slid through. ¡°Of course, master, anything you say,¡± the second woman said.

    She slid a hand between her legs and gasped. My eyes rolled and head shook slowly. The trio were completely oblivious to my approach. A herd of elephants could have been drowned out by their fake noises. I wondered why Coach Madison let this man sit in the middle of his park and realized that there could be dozens of reasons, and none of them would matter in a second. People were simply crazy.

    They distracted themselves and I lifted the latch to get inside. Neither one noticed me, perhaps relying on men like Theo, who was otherwise engaged, to warn them. I lifted my knife then took a steadying breath. The man grunted disgustingly and the full-bodied woman under him kept right on smiling. The other near them fell to the side while writhing in fake or effective pleasure.

    I slashed his throat and jerked him to the side. He flopped and blood spurted everywhere despite my attempt to contain his mess to one side of the bed.

    Post Note: I think it helped, that I didn¡¯t know his name. It helped that he enslaved people ¡ªthough at the time it was merely a ¡®gut feeling¡¯ which told me so.

    The previously pounded woman¡¯s smile faded and turned quickly to screams. Her companion froze and tightened. Furry feet kicked wildly as blood continued to flow.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± I said to the ladies while smiling happily.

    One day with all that moaning had made me downright irritable. There was no telling how bad it had been for them. This wasn¡¯t murder, it was liberation.

    They both turned to me and pulled weapons out of the trailer¡¯s shelves. The redhead dropped a crowbar and grabbed her neck. She twitched, cried, and went limp. Her companion, the furry-footed woman, lasted a few seconds longer then stopped moving, half sprawled over the dead man.

    A man charged into the trailer. I barreled him over with a body slam. A gunshot rang and the women woke and started screaming once more. Their freedom induced comas hadn¡¯t lasted long.

    Two more shots echoed after me. I ran away from the barricade wall and back toward the red housing. The women kept screaming. It sounded far more natural and more annoying than the moaning.

    People scrambled out of buildings. Other trailers slammed open. I assumed they¡¯d robbed a recreational vehicle store down the street to get this many in the parking lot.

    Others might have reset, fell on the ground flopping, or whatever, as well. It could be possible that they¡¯d collapsed at the wrong time and were quickly beaten by invading mini-orcs. There was more to the thought that was lost under the panic of ¡°Dear God¡± ¡°What have I done?¡± and ¡°Please let this work.¡±

    If the camp was loud before, now it was bedlam. People lay on the ground, unmoving. Many headed in the trailer¡¯s direction. I ran past a dozen men with unshaven faces, mismatched clothes, and a mess of weapons.

    I kept going while a dozen different failures on my part flashed through. I¡¯d love to blame the lack of foresight on sleeplessness, being messed up, fighting monsters day in and out, having recently regrown my hand, or a dozen other whatevers. In truth, I didn¡¯t know why I was doing half of what I had been.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    Too many impulses in my head were making it hard to stay on the straight and narrow. The one thing I¡¯d done consistently was destroy anything I perceived as an outright monster. I was simply defending myself, with a bit more proactivity than recommended.

    Moral quandaries and panic occupied me during the flight. People yelled but none sounded close. My hiding spot in some bushes outside the library stayed safe long enough to count minutes. I waited for the commotion to die down but after counting to one hundred a dozen times, nothing had changed.

    People still screamed. Gunshots went off. The word ¡°Treat¡± filled the lulls, what few there were.

    I squeezed my eyes shut. This waffling behavior of mine was driving me batty. I had to stay focused and on task. Once all this madness ended, I could crawl into a hole and sulk for a few months. One of those red painted houses would have enough liquor to kill myself a dozen times over.

    The dagger sliced with disturbing ease into the wood framing of a door. I carved a square around the locks while people continued to fight in the distance. No one noticed me, or no one was around to care.

    I crept slowly, intent on not being captured a second time. There were no guards here. The place was as sparse as it had been the first time I visited. Having a person who could enslave others probably made it easy. All they¡¯d need to say was, ¡°Don¡¯t go into the library.¡± That would put me in a time crunch, because if I were enslaved and ordered not to do something, the first thing I¡¯d do is get revenge, then go where I shouldn¡¯t in hopes of it having prizes.

    The room was nearly empty. The desk sat in place, complete with its runes and chalk patterns all over the surface. The writing was still illegible but managed to convey frantic scribbling.

    ¡°Big smiling murderer! You¡¯re back,¡± Midge the Tattletale said cheerfully. ¡°Or is that returned. Reunited? Rejoined. Yes, we are rejoined again. Well, almost.¡±

    The small blonde faerie fluttered around with her golden chain tethered to the desk. It clinked and sounded almost as musical as she did. I stepped close and readied my blade.

    Midge completely ignored the weapon.

    ¡°You¡¯re here now, and I smell money. I tell you a secret. I sell you a secret. Sell is the better word in your limited tongue. One hundred of your bucks. One hundred from the debt card. Fair trade, worth every pint.¡± She bobbed her head. Each sentence was enunciated and sounded sharp. I wondered why I hadn¡¯t noticed an accent before. Faeries didn¡¯t come in ethnicities, did they?

    Speculation: While this idea does me no good now, I¡¯ll mark it for later. It is possible Midge was once human too¡ªand changed with an item she purchased. How much then, of her personality and offer, was a result of the item she bought, or her original mindset? I imagine being six inches tall changes one¡¯s perspective.

    I stepped around the room carefully and checked the far door. It was closed. There were no signs of other people anywhere, but staying wary would help.

    ¡°Why do you need money?¡± I asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s a big secret! I only sell small ones. Little ones. Worth every buck. But they don¡¯t shape lives. Or lie shapes. Or is it line apes?¡± She paused, even stilling her wings, yet somehow stayed afloat. Midge shook her head and continued, ¡°No, I sell pebbles in a stream. Small ones. Very tiny, like me. You¡¯d need a lot to divert the ocean.¡±

    I considered gouging her for more information, literally. The idea went out the window. There had to be a line at hurting people; I had to retain some shred of humanity or I¡¯d never be able to look at myself in the mirror. I was already pushing myself to simply exist and adding in a pixie¡¯s death, or whatever she was, would make sleeping that much harder.

    Little Shade had sent me here for a reason. There were no rules, that I knew of, against misleading anyone. It was a simple enough task to use my original reason as leverage.

    ¡°What if I free you? Will you tell me what the money is for?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Oh yes, yes I will. And I¡¯ll sell you small secrets too. For one hundred of your bucks.¡±

    Midge didn¡¯t offer a discount even with the offer of freedom. I didn¡¯t know why but the idea bothered me. My eyes roamed the chain link again, ensuring she was really bound to the jar.

    ¡°But only small secrets,¡± I confirmed while smiling.

    She landed on the tabletop and fidgeted.

    ¡°Yes. Small. Small, small. Pebbles.¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re not big enough for big secrets. What happens if you get one? Do you explode?¡±

    I was teasing her. The action confused me but didn¡¯t stop me from speaking. Midge buttoned her lips and flared her nostrils.

    ¡°Well?¡±

    The last time I¡¯d been in here, three people were in the room with me. Nix, who I hadn¡¯t seen yet. Toymaker, who was probably out there as well, and Coach Madison.

    ¡°Tell me why Madison and Nix call you Pix, but Little Shade calls you Midge.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not how it works. Only small secrets for one hundred bucks.¡±

    ¡°Why not a rose?¡±

    ¡°Because I ate them all. All gone.¡±

    Toymaker had implied growing roses took a lot of effort. It might have to do with smells like perfume. It might have to do with other mad faeries flying free and eating them.

    ¡°Then tell me, about me. You called me a smiling killer.¡±

    ¡°Money!¡± She held out a hand.

    I frowned and pulled out the card. She touched a finger on it, light flashed. Maybe the secret would pay off, but if it didn¡¯t there were always more mini-orcs to kill. It might be cathartic to destroy an army of the tiny scavengers.

    Post Note: My hand itched at that comment, and not in a good way. It was best to ignore how close I¡¯d come to death from a mob of monsters.

    The card reflected exactly one hundred bucks less. I checked the name and title again. It still said [Runed Rogue] and my full name.

    ¡°Your words. Too small for such big ideas. They don¡¯t know, but I know. You¡¯re designed, built, created, shaped, molded.¡± She counted off on her diminutive fingers. ¡°Crafted? No, that¡¯s the wrong word. Forced, yes. Forced to be a smiling killer. The one. The mischievous knave. Because the Else called you a liar.¡±

    I blinked and pondered using my blade on her. She¡¯d barely be a splatter on the knife point. Midge, or Pix, had taken money, or debt, or whatever, earned at the risk of my life. She¡¯d better have more to say than repeating the same nonsense as before.

    ¡°No, no! I tell you. You will kill to keep a secret. Kill to find a secret. Kill a secret. Kill the Secret King. All these. Do you have one word for those ideas in a ball?¡±

    My head shook slowly.

    ¡°Shame. You should make one.¡±

    She flew about, no doubt in search of more roses to devour. There were none in the room.

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a lot for one moment. Maybe in another moment you¡¯ll get more. Fare¡¯s fair. Fair fire four. Fools want more. Clever men know when to share. But you already know that secret, right? They paid you to ask about secrets, don¡¯t you find that odd? Then you pay me to learn them. But none of us can speak plainly. So frustrating.¡±

    I rubbed my head, settled a hand over my mouth and nose then took deep breaths. It hadn¡¯t been worth anything to learn that tidbit. She was right though, they had paid us to search for hidden rules to the new world, and Midge took money to hand out the keys to small mysteries. That was very strange, and having the conflict pointed out by another person was worth money.

    ¡°Now free me.¡± She tapped a foot against air. It made no sense, but it sounded like she was clicking against hardwood while clearly not being on any objects. Magic, I assumed.

    I drove my blade into the table top and ruined the markings. Midge watched, flew around the chair to wrap her chain tightly, and pulled it straight for me to cut. I grabbed an end near her tiny leg, locked the chain in place, and wedged my blade tip into the link and twisted.

    It popped apart.

    Midge shivered. The sight distracted me, but not as much as being in the Hawthorn form would have. All those jittery motions on a tiny woman wearing a very light dress would have sent me into overdrive.

    She was free, as far as I could tell anyway. There might be a magic bug zapper outside, but that wasn¡¯t part of the deal with Little Shade. I turned to leave and noticed one of the walls shift.

    ¡°So, Little Dick, was it worth it?¡± A deep, back-twitching voice came from around the corner. ¡°All that money for some of her gibberish? Five months and I couldn¡¯t get anything sensible out of her. One day and you think you¡¯ve learned something?¡±

    Coach Madison walked out with the same short man in a tie standing right next to him. In his hands was the gun from before. Coming in here had been a mistake. Maybe Coach Madison predicted the move, or maybe Little Shade set me up.

    There were too many questions to sort. I searched for signs on how they¡¯d remained hidden, only to notice one of the walls had hinges and was part way open.

    I lifted my chin and stared at the man. He¡¯d been taller than me, once. Now, he only had more muscle and a gun. But despite his apparent strength, he hadn¡¯t killed the hydra.

    ¡°What do you think?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I think you¡¯re dangerous. Nix says you killed the hydra. Pix here called you a grinning killer. Then there¡¯s that breach in the walls. Awfully convenient that you show up right after.¡±

    I smiled. ¡°And I killed your slaver.¡±

    Coach Madison raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°The man with the golden neck tattoo.¡±

    All my ideas of trying to skate by as ¡°Lance¡± in this place were out of my mind. Honestly, it¡¯d been a half-baked plan anyway. If I was going to be threatened at gunpoint, it made sense to make sure I deserved to be shot.

    Coach Madison¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°You killed him?¡±

    ¡°Correct. Your slaves are off their chains. Some are lying out there, easy pickings for monsters. Theo and the others might even have fallen to the mini-orcs coming for your supplies.¡± Coach Madison¡¯s face turned red. I smiled, happy to get revenge for being called Little Dick over the years. ¡°So, shoot me, or start running before they catch you.¡±

    He lifted the gun and said, ¡°I think I¡¯ll¡ª¡±

    Before he could finish I flung my blade at his face.

    Coach Madison shouted in outrage and pulled the trigger. It went wide as he reeled from the knife wound.

    The bullet tore into my shoulder. I fell to the ground. Someone else was speaking but their words were lost under the sudden onslaught of fresh pain. It sounded like a very, very angry Little Shade.

 Book 1, Rule 23

    Statement: Aristotle once said that ¡°Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.¡± I¡¯m not one hundred percent sure on this, since it was on a T-Shirt an old friend used to wear to finals, which he always failed. I got hung up on the saying being in English. Shouldn¡¯t it have been in Greek or Roman or whatever he spoke. Latin, maybe? Regardless, the truth is, in this new world, I don¡¯t know anything about who I am.

    To be clearer. I know who I was before this event. The me post-change was an unknown. Midge, or Pix¡¯s nonsensical words were absolutely useless in helping me determine who I¡¯d become. It was like a blind person hearing another describe a beautiful sunset over the ocean. Full of words but missing depth.

    I crawled to a wall for some form of security. Gunshots blasted. Two distinct female voices screamed. The wall thudded.

    It made no sense. My vision watered and an arm buckled. The wound would heal, but then I¡¯d probably get hurt again. There were four more shots. I flinched with each one. My feet weakly kicked me the last few yards to the wall and I turned around.

    A blob of shadow tussled with Nix. It had to be Little Shade. She and her enemy punched each other ruthlessly.

    Toymaker stood over Coach Madison wearing a glove with sparks arcing between the fingertips. I admired the effect for a moment and searched for an exit.

    Honestly, at this point I was upset with the lot of them. I¡¯d killed a man and listened to a faerie babble at me. I¡¯d been shot in the shoulder. It was time to leave, and if Little Shade had an issue, well, I¡¯d simply say I upheld my end. These deals came with consequences that weren¡¯t worth it.

    I didn¡¯t want to get shot again, or zapped by the nonsense Toymaker wielded. From here on out, my fights would be more covert and involve as much forethought as possible.

    Survival came first.

    I moved on three limbs down the hallway. The arm that¡¯d been hit by a bullet refused to hold weight. It would heal but not soon enough to throw anything useful. My fingers might work in an hour or two, but signals weren¡¯t making it past the shoulder.

    ¡°You little bitch!¡± Nix screamed. I turned and caught a quick glimpse. Nix had a grip on a dark mop of hair.

    ¡°I freed you,¡± Little Shade yelled. They spun around the room, slamming into objects, knocking over Midge¡¯s desk. There were books being scattered around. Gibberish lined their covers and spines.

    ¡°What are you¡­¡± Coach Madison snarled then yelped.

    Toymaker, thankfully, said nothing. Only the sound of flesh sizzling and electric zaps let me know the man was still in the fight. I assumed he was hitting the Coach repeatedly with his electric gloves.

    Midge flew in my face. ¡°One more secret, yes? One more?¡±

    Money meant nothing to me at this stage. Her hints might help but the first one had been a mixed bag. Right now, people fired weapons and tried to throttle each other behind me.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°Not now.¡±

    There were corners ahead of me. Corners were nonsense that required pivoting with only one good hand. I wouldn¡¯t stand until the bullets stopped flying or I was out of sight.

    ¡°One more secret!¡±

    ¡°Not now.¡±

    Post Note: Of course now wasn¡¯t the best time. But you try having a faerie float in your face saying ¡°one more¡± over and over and not address it somehow.

    The ground chilled and my leg went numb. Midge flew around my face like a glowing mosquito.

    ¡°Go away!¡± I waved at her.

    ¡°Or you buy now? Now is good. Prices go up next week. This is a discount celebrating the final mortal¡¯s return. Yes?¡±

    A loud roar made my skin crawl. Something thudded into the wall and shook the roof.

    ¡°Where is he?¡± Coach Madison shouted.

    The sudden increase in noise was my cue to stand. I moved quickly while trying to figure out what would shut Midge up. She flew beside me, demanding money for secrets in her high pitched accented voice.

    The four people in the room would finish fighting soon. One would run away, another would get shot. I suspected Coach Madison and his beefy body that reminded me of a professional wrestler would be one of the survivors. Little Shade might not survive against Nix, whose powers had somehow stopped a vending machine rampage.

    ¡°One hundred bucks. You have money, I can smell it.¡± Midge continued fluttering in my face.

    I waved her away and she simply bobbed to the side. Then it hit me, there was only one method to get her to stop shouting in my face. I lifted the card and stumbled onward. She touched the card and the number flashed.

    That satisfied her. We stopped around a corner and Midge quickly whispered in my ear, ¡°Beware anyone who tries to name you. They¡¯re worse than those who ask your name. This can be used, this knowledge. By you. By them. Yes? But beware them all. But wear them all. Yes. Be ware, but wear. Be air. Yes?¡±

    It made absolutely no sense. I filed away her statement and smiled. She smiled back and I wondered why she acted so amused.

    ¡°Go away.¡± I waved before she could ask me for more money.

    Midge fluttered off. Her body glowed briefly in the darkness between library stacks before growing too far away. She got freedom and two hundred bucks out of me. I got shot, the exchange was not fair at all.

    Escape was still the priority. I heard loud stomping footsteps behind me. I glanced back and tried to find a way to see around corners. There were no mirrors, and they¡¯d be useless without real light. Even my crazy night vision magic didn¡¯t help a lot. I hunkered into a corner where the shadows were darker than normal and waited. After a minute, or whatever, a large person strode into the open room. A hundred feet away, across a small row of computers that used to be for looking up books, Coach Madison stood and held a gun.

    He yelled, ¡°Come out, Little Dick! Come on! You pussy, fight me.¡±

    I would do no such thing. Coach Madison was an idiot. There were a few possible exits to the room but there might be other enemies outside them. The window behind me would be easy enough to open, if it hadn¡¯t been boarded up.

    ¡°You¡¯ll never be a team player. You and that little bitch, Charlotte.¡± He turned. ¡°Just like that idiot Shawn! No matter what he made, he always resented me!¡±

    Shawn might be Toymaker¡¯s real name. I filed away the information and slid toward an uncovered window. Part of me dissected the distance between Coach Madison and me. It might be possible to stab him in the side. Maybe it would be easy to gut him like a fish or slash his throat. By the same token, I¡¯d already killed enough for one week.

    He screamed threats, and I did what any sane person would do with an egocentric little league coach expressing the desire to beat them senseless; I opened the window, threw a book to another corner of the large room, and left while he was distracted. Shouts from behind me faded rapidly.

    Post Note: I honestly believe Coach Madison couldn¡¯t understand a man who simply left the fight. He was a sports player. He believed in conflict, two teams, ¡°Us versus them¡±¡ªand I simply chose not to fight. Survival was, and is, more important. But, don¡¯t get me wrong¡ªI will knife him if it comes down to it.

    I moved quickly to the north, away from the main barricade and red houses. After a few blocks passed, my steps slowed. There was no indication of people following me. I stopped at a house and searched for supplies. There were none. Even the clothes had been picked over.

    Post Note: In a post-apocalyptic world, there are never any clothes in the right size.

    The rest of the place had been turned upside down and the furniture was well abused. I finally found something new to wear in a second house. An ugly brown sweater in a closet became my new top.

    Our temporary safe house was another half mile away. I crept down the street, weaving between buildings. That first night, the one where those stewardesses had showed up, there had been creatures between the houses, nearly unseen beings made of teeth and smiles. Now I was that creature, albeit, fleeing the scene of a disaster. The path home was once again remarkably clear. There were faint sounds in the distance and occasionally I saw another lost soul fleeing through the street. No one noticed me, but I did two laps around the building, just in case someone was tailing me.

    There was nothing. I made it back to the safe house and went to the back door. Both elves stood at the sliding door, with their faces pressed against the glass. I waited while rocking onto my heels until they realized they were in the way. The elves backed up.

    Once inside I said, ¡°I made it. Did Little Shade?¡±

    They raised their hands to point farther into the house. It served as answer enough. I nodded and stumbled onward.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    Little Shade sat in a corner of the room. She put the hat back on, but I had a brief glimpse of her face before the shade reappeared. There were bruises, and part of her eye had been bloodshot.

    She stood and wobbled. ¡°You bring Midge?¡±

    ¡°She flew off,¡± I said quietly. We¡¯d both been wrecked by that tussle. I wasn¡¯t sure the entire event had been worth it, not for Midge¡¯s nonsense responses.

    ¡°Good enough for me, that is. I know the secret to finding her again. Loves roses she does. Always find her near a bush, chomping away. Better if you sprinkle them with pepper. Weird, innit?¡±

    Pepper on roses made as much sense as anything else. I had no heart to tell her that Midge claimed to have eaten all the roses. Regardless, it was time to get farther away from Coach Madison¡¯s compound.

    ¡°Are you ready to go?¡±

    ¡°That I am,¡± she said from right next to me. I blinked and turned. A flash of movement and sudden pressure in my side caused me to gasp as air escaped.

    My body went slack and fell. The blade was cold, so extremely cold that I¡¯d almost missed the pain. Then it came, in a brutal wave that tingled along my spine.

    ¡°What?¡± I stuttered from the ground.

    The realization hit. She¡¯d stabbed me. Sharing the hydra kill made sense because Little Shade wanted funds to escape. Talking me into sneaking back to Coach Big Balls¡¯ camp made sense if she was a slave and couldn¡¯t do it on her own. Stabbing me made zero sense.

    Little Shade kneeled and yanked out the knife. It vanished into the dark shroud she cast.

    Breathing hurt. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Ain¡¯t personal, it¡¯s not. I heard what Midge said about you, I did. You¡¯re a scary man, what with your big Lance and wide grin. But I ain¡¯t out to kill you. I just need you to stay put for a while. No use letting a scary man like yourself follow a girl home.¡±

    Stabbing me was simply rude. I grunted, groaned and crawled with one good hand toward the exit. My other arm weakly pressed at my stomach to keep the innards inside.

    Little Shade¡¯s voice was close but I couldn¡¯t see her anymore. Maybe because seeing anything was difficult. My mind clouded. She¡¯d said ¡°sneaks¡± could see each other, but Little Shade had also said she wanted to go with me. How much of our actions together was a lie? Her abilities were more than advertised, and I hadn¡¯t been smart enough to hide anything of my own.

    ¡°I¡¯ll repay you for the stabbing with a small reminder of secrets we¡¯ve already learned, and maybe you¡¯ll think kindly on a girl wanting some privacy.¡±

    I wanted to be rational but couldn¡¯t concentrate well enough.

    ¡°You remember what those ladies said, yah? A chance at a life. It wasn¡¯t a coincidence, a lifetime. Then there¡¯s the secrets. It¡¯s all connected, Little Lance. All of it, and Midge the Tattletale is going to help me stay ahead. We¡¯re going to hunt down the Secret King, we is.¡±

    My escape was blocked. The blob of shadow stood in the doorway. I assumed Little Shade wanted to gloat, or talk. I moved an arm toward the spell book but couldn¡¯t keep steady. My hand kept jerking erroneously.

    ¡°Ain¡¯t no time for that. See, you¡¯d try to toss them little booms you¡¯re so proud of, and being blown up ain¡¯t part of my plan. I went easy on you, because I know you¡¯ll heal. I seen it. Took two days to get your arm back, yah?¡±

    I grunted.

    ¡°So, you¡¯ll heal all right. Then you¡¯ll take the elves and go meet up with your friends. See, I¡¯ve been to Mayor Kent¡¯s place too. They¡¯re a decent enough bunch, you¡¯ll see. Better than Coach Big Balls. Should be okay enough there until Coach figures out what happened.¡±

    I understood why she¡¯d done this. It made sense that Little Shade wanted to get away while she could. Coach Madison¡¯s slavery ring was probably very frightening and compelling. Little Shade might be scared of me, or Coach Madison, or a number of others.

    Post Note: Like so many other events, part of this is me simply portraying the past as it happened while not letting my emotions cloud things. Was I angry? Yes. Was I gasping in pain? Yes. Was I partially afraid that she might summon that darkness and kill me where I stood? God yes. But did I hate Little Shade? Only for a moment, and that¡¯s the truth. Because I understood why she acted as she did.

    ¡°He might come to kill you though. Coach doesn¡¯t like tricks or liars or thieves. No he does not. He¡¯s also partial to putting his dick where it don¡¯t belong. Though that¡¯ll be harder since his friend is gone. All that means I gotta git now.¡±

    I could make out enough of Little Shade¡¯s form, blackened though it was, to see her practically spinning in place. She paused and pointed at me with her hand turned palm up.

    ¡°Don¡¯t know why I¡¯m telling you this. You barely said five words to me. Maybe it just feels good to know that someone out there listened, yah? Not like Theo or the others who act like I¡¯m some precious jade or somethin¡¯. No. Not you. You listen and store it all away. I can see it. My momma, she used to say Little Pitchers gots big ears. You and me, we¡¯re littles.¡± She pointed at herself, then toward me. ¡°Little Shade, Little Lance, with your horse cock.¡±

    She went toward the bedroom door, bent over a bag, and gathered up belongings. Some food was placed in a second container and put within arm¡¯s reach. I could have easily grabbed an item, pooled a rune together, and thrown it at her, but chose not to. She¡¯d been rather friendly despite stabbing me.

    It felt like I should say something. I rasped her name. ¡°Little Shade.¡±

    ¡°Yah?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right. I listened.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± She nodded, causing the dark nimbus around her to tilt. ¡°But I can¡¯t trust you, not until I know more. And until then, you and me ain¡¯t goin¡¯ nowhere together. Go, be somewhere else. Then I¡¯ll find you. Got a line on treasure that your other friends will want.¡±

    Part of my mind was so exhausted that simply falling to one side was a relief. I wanted to be mad but had no energy to feel real ire. It was as though my mind and emotions were separate creatures and refused to talk to each other.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said. She could have simply left without me and I¡¯d have let her go.

    Little Shade nodded. ¡°I ain¡¯t trustin¡¯ you not to try to track me down. But, you stay alive, yah? And like I said, don¡¯t follow me. I don¡¯t want to stab you again. You may be a sneak, but I¡¯m sneaker. That I am.¡±

    She was talking in circles now. Little Shade was full on rambling.

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    She paused and stepped closer. The shadow from her head tipped over me, bringing a cool feeling that was like stepping into freezing water. Her voice was a whisper as she asked, ¡°A kiss for luck?¡±

    The thought made me grunt, which turned into wet coughing. I couldn¡¯t see her well, even this close. My magically enhanced eyesight, or whatever, still couldn¡¯t penetrate her darkness.

    ¡°Yah, best not. Might not make it out of here. Give the witless wonders a bit of a show if I stick around too long. Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll find another sheath for your lance I¡¯m sure.¡± The backpack disappeared into her dark cloud.

    She pulled away, stepped into the house¡¯s hallway, and vanished from my life. I sat there wondering if Little Shade had simply dipped out, as she¡¯d done to me a few times before. I couldn¡¯t tell and just waited while my side slowly healed from the knife wound.

    My body hurt more today than it had since the accident. I stopped trying to stay upright and fell to one side. A bed frame within reach had dusty pillows and a blanket, which I pulled down. Eventually I tipped into unconsciousness.

    When I woke, both elves stood over me like mute statues, their eyes wide and hands locked together like scared children clutching each other. I smiled at them, attempting to be friendly or reassuring, but knowing that for some reason my grin had changed into something more sinister.

    They, oddly, smiled back. As if we were two of a kind. A sharp edge to their mouths reminded me of the stewardesses. The general in-humanness of their lanky features, thinner limbs, and pointed ears somehow made the grins feel almost normal.

    A chill ran down my spine and stopped at the gut wound. I fumbled for the card in my pocket and read through it a dozen more times. It had new words, [Slaver¡¯s Bane], right next to [Runed Rogue]. I didn¡¯t know what that meant and wasn¡¯t about to ask someone.

    There were few places to go. Our small house had enough food to last a couple of days, provided the elves didn¡¯t eat everything like pelicans. The idea of getting up and simply trudging onto the next destination made me feel exhausted. I¡¯d been marching ahead with life for days now and hadn¡¯t any time to simply exist.

    I spent the day walking around slowly. My path went all around the house, searching over scant supplies and checking the doors and windows to see if they were locked. It was pointless but I got really good at finding items behind run down couches. Plus, I learned elves love little knick-knacks pulled out from china cabinets.

    They were nosy, but only when I wasn¡¯t looking. They acted like they had dozens of secrets squirreled away somewhere, while I only had one. I practiced reverting to my normal self while locked in a room but kept to the brown-skinned form of ¡°Hawthorn¡± while in their presence. I couldn¡¯t remember if I¡¯d messed up my personas after Coach Madison, but I wanted to keep them separate.

    Between spell practices, I pondered this new world. It had started with a bus ride and line at the stadium. That went on for ages before dropping me into a changed version of home. I was honestly surprised I¡¯d survived the first trip back to the family house, and hadn¡¯t been eaten by something that night. I had my own broken body to be thankful for on that front.

    Without being in the car accident, I wouldn¡¯t have had those crutches. The crutches were an iron composite and probably helped me retain consciousness on the way to the end. Being so slow had earned me a discount on items, which gave me an edge to survive thus far. Everything flowed into the next, and I worried that maybe Midge was right.

    ¡°Was I crafted?¡± I said quietly.

    The day came and went, along with another two. My body had completely healed from being stabbed, shot, and a missing limb reformed. I spent too many hours poking at my regrown flesh and wondering how magic could spawn a new hand. The lines and cracks looked the same as before. Even a scar along my thumb from a can opener accident years ago was exactly the same.

    The elves wandered around the house. Their steps were light and they often sneaked up on me. I nearly knifed them multiple times, finding it easier than ever to pull the black spell together. The voice in the back of my head giggled at the thought of not stopping myself.

    By the third day I¡¯d made some progress. I stored my debt card inside the black spell so it couldn¡¯t be stolen. It ended up being on my ring finger, as opposed to the rope which was my middle finger. This left me with one slot left, which I almost used on the spell book. I wasn¡¯t sure I dared do that yet.

    My body had rebuilt nearly all of its mass after devouring most of our food stockpile. The two elves sat by watching me eat with their perpetually wide eyes. They annoyed me, because they could talk, but we didn¡¯t seem to speak the same language. I tried anyway.

    ¡°We need to go somewhere safer than this.¡± Only one viable direction was available for me to go. My supposed father could command a being that walked through walls. That creature had a ton of power but I couldn¡¯t wrap my mind around Dad having a pet monster. It was also Leon who¡¯d said Mayor Kent was my father, matching the note on my door and him showing up out of the blue.

    One of the elves held out a piece of paper I¡¯d all but forgotten about. It was the one with illegible words on one side, and Allegra¡¯s dancing pictures on the other. The location a few blocks away was still marked.

    ¡°Well,¡± I said, and sighed. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Starting with the location cited by Allegra¡¯s picture would be the best bet. I stepped out the door, not really caring if they came or not. Saving someone from slavery was different than ensuring they survived in the wilderness.

    The elves followed behind, whispering to each other in their musical language. I ignored them and kept a shovel I¡¯d stolen from a shed ready. They, of course, had no weapons at all. It was as if they didn¡¯t have a single thought about fighting the monsters roaming my city¡¯s streets.

    Sure enough, Allegra, Callisto, and Leon were waiting for me three blocks away. They sat in the back of a cart which reeked of weed. Allegra had her head down and a hand pointing in my direction. She must have been watching a piece of paper.

    ¡°He¡¯s coming. Finally,¡± she said loudly.

    I stood half a block away and wondered if they were a mirage or some magical trick. Everything about this world made me suspect traps.

    ¡°Hawthorn!¡± Callisto waved. She actually smiled, which was downright wrong in conjunction with her chain mail, torn shirt, and pitch black hair. It was like seeing a bubbly storm cloud.

    ¡°Come on, we¡¯ve got to get out of here and back to somewhere safe. We¡¯re lucky Madison¡¯s people have turned on each other and can¡¯t fight off the monsters.¡± Leon¡¯s armor clinked as he rolled a shoulder.

    ¡°Who would flight off a mons tear?¡± Arson asked, once again misunderstanding someone else. He shook his head and got into the driver¡¯s seat of their carriage.

    ¡°Monster,¡± Callisto said. ¡°Mon-ster. Big teeth.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Big briefs, got it.¡± Arson nodded and turned back to the horse.

    Leon stood on the side, helmet under his arm and hammer sitting on the wooden tailgate. He pushed objects to the side, grunting all the while from effort.

    I struggled to remember our few hours together and decided it didn¡¯t matter anymore. If they were a trap, disguised as potential allies, then everything would become obvious eventually. They were my key to uncovering the mystery of my ¡°dad.¡±

    Figuring that out felt worth the risk. Once I knew for sure, then I could decide if I¡¯d stay here, in a madhouse version of the town I¡¯d grown up in, or go out into the world to search for secrets. Part of me wanted to explore and uncover all the hidden gems of this place. I wanted to learn if each and every secret led to a magical treasure.

    But I needed to know if anyone in my family had survived.

    As I walked toward the cart, I thought of Richard and his wife. I thought of my nephews I had fallen out of touch with in my post-accident funk. I thought of my niece, Stella, who I¡¯d only seen twice since her birth.

    I prayed that they hadn¡¯t sold their children to those stewardesses, and I feared that they might have done worse.

 Book 1, Rule 24

    Rule 24

    Choose Allegiances Wisely & Powers Have Side Effects

    Statement: I was not one to go on grand adventures. I firmly believe that people may long for such a thing deep in their hearts, but it¡¯s a lie they tell themselves. Else, why would they sit at home and dream? There¡¯s a world out there to explore. I call ¡°bullshit¡± on anyone who thinks they¡¯d embrace a new world such as this with arms wide open.

    There are those few who, at least in the old world, tried to live life to the fullest. They fought, sang, dance, drank, and loved (or slept with anything that had legs¡ªif one is crude). Where are they in this new world? Admittedly, I¡¯ve only met thirty or so people and barely spoken with them for any length. Maybe the true adventurers left town long ago.

    The cart went through the side streets. Six people were crammed into the back with a mess of weapons that Callisto obsessively ran her hands along. She caressed the swords like a lover¡¯s thigh before sex. Both elves pressed close to me, as if the others were scary. I don¡¯t know why they found solace in my presence.

    I fought back mixed emotions and struggled not to think about dragging one of the women off our cart to an empty house. We¡¯d only need a few minutes, or maybe an hour, or all night. And maybe this week. I could take a few of them if the first one wore out.

    Post Note: That was the magically enhanced libido talking. I could have peeled away the spell but I wanted to keep a secret to myself. The elves didn¡¯t know, Callisto¡¯s party didn¡¯t know. Only Little Shade did, and it would be a secret between the two of us. But having a shared secret isn¡¯t the same as knowing the actual reason for an action.

    Admission: I¡¯m not sure I like who I was before the event. The hiding away and wallowing in self-pity. Lance, real me, was also the one murdering people. Hawthorn only went after monsters.

    When I was returned to this world and getting used to the new rules, as if that were a simple task, a lot of facts were simply accepted and I moved on. One being the note a person calling himself ¡°dad¡± left on my family¡¯s home. This had struck me as odd, because there were no details backing up his claim.

    I¡¯d seen a person control others¡¯ minds with some black neck marking. Anything might be possible. Probable, no, but possible. That made me nervous about trusting someone who claimed to be my dad.

    Based on the survival rate of those coming through the line, it seemed highly unlikely that my father was really alive. Yet, there in front of our horse drawn cart, stood a man who looked exactly like my father.

    Behind him was what used to be a lakeside park. Tall brambles went up in the air twenty or thirty feet. They were thick and impossible to see through, but a single opening, large enough for our horse drawn carriage, was along the pathway for us to make it past.

    ¡°We¡¯ve brought your son, Mayor Kent,¡± Leon said slowly.

    Allegra sniffed and sketched on a piece of paper. Her rough pencil markings filled the brief silence. She had been drawing the entire trip, using a small part of the carriage¡¯s railing.

    ¡°This is him?¡±

    ¡°Sir, yes sir. He was at the house you mentioned. He¡¯s been changed by items. But he¡¯s¡± ¡ªLeon¡¯s lips quivered¡ª¡°very effective against monsters.¡±

    ¡°That sounds like my boy,¡± he said while smiling. His lips stayed tight and not a hint of teeth showed through. ¡°And who are they?¡±

    ¡°They were captives. Allegra recorded a fight between your son and the Monster of Main Street. He killed the beast and rescued these two from its lair.¡±

    ¡°Very good. More of the Forestkin are always welcome. We have others tending the gardens.¡± He turned and waved toward the briar barricade.

    I glanced at my four party members. They were grim faced. Callisto refused to make eye contact and Leon had shut his eyes. The two elves held their bodies still as if witnessing a lion walking calmly into their midst. Though Mayor Kent was off to the side.

    The man calling himself my father motioned for the others to come down. Leon, Callisto, and Allegra gradually disembarked. I stepped off the back and rolled my shoulders. Both elves and Arson stayed aboard.

    ¡°Well, come give dad a hug,¡± the man said.

    I did not. He took it in stride and gestured for me to walk along with him. That was allowable.

    ¡°What are you calling yourself in this new world?¡±

    ¡°Hawthorn.¡±

    ¡°Hawthorn, of course. That¡¯s a good, strong name.¡° Mayor Kent smiled. It was softer than I remembered. Dad had been a wide smiler, so large it nearly split his face in two. Right now it looked like nothing of the sort, it was tiny, hidden, and confusing.

    Post Note: I ask myself frequently why he bothered me so. If I were to trust Midge, then because he let me name myself¡ªhe should be a bit more... benign? Was I mad at being abandoned after the car accident? It could not be pure disbelief at coincidences.

    We walked and talked, and what we spoke of I could not say for sure. He sounded proud, I nodded and hummed at the appropriate times. The compound he¡¯d taken over, or ruled as ¡°Mayor¡± took up the entire park. There were farms, people were actually smiling and happy. It was the same sort of action I¡¯d seen at Coach Madison¡¯s base, but of a far lighter tone.

    Not having cars piled up helped. Roses on the inside of the briar thorns also assisted in giving the place a cheerier dressing.

    We slowly walked after the cart. It went on up to a station that might have belonged to park rangers. The building was in disrepair and needed a fresh coat of paint, but still felt brighter than the shadow covered library. There were basement floors with rooms, and single sheds farther out in the woods. Whatever parking lot they¡¯d had was taken up by shelters.

    This park was closer to a wildlife preserve near the center of town. It sprawled out across the landscape until reaching the outskirts. The thick bramble filled walls stretched on for miles, encasing a large enough area to house lots of people.

    My father yammered. His words were essentially ¡°Look what we¡¯ve done¡± and ¡°We¡¯ve really come together¡± and ¡°We can survive this strange new world.¡± I believed none of it. We eventually arrived at what he called the main office, a single room flat without a restroom. Outside stood the other party members, chatting quietly with some of the refugees my dad had rounded up.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    I found myself drifting in and out while staring at Allegra and Callisto, which naturally came with intense imaginings. Leon stood near the far ramp, talking to the elves. He spoke English and the elves didn¡¯t speak at all. He looked annoyed. They wandered off, completely disregarding whatever the armored man was trying to convey.

    ¡°Callisto, can you make sure my son is taken care of?¡± She and Allegra frowned. ¡°Go get rested. You deserve it after everything you¡¯ve suffered through. Killing that hydra monster? Those few still in hiding will welcome their streets being a bit quieter.¡±

    That confused me. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°It was a boss monster, I¡¯m told. It dying should clear out something in the town. We¡¯ve seen similar issues in places like the corner store that Leon took you through.¡±

    I nodded and struggled to focus on more than the desire to make Callisto lose control. My dad had been talking at me for a while and I¡¯d barely put thought into a response.

    I searched for the man I¡¯d grown up with in his face. He looked like my dad, but something inside me said he wasn¡¯t. Leon hadn¡¯t given me that feeling, the old woman who rode the bus with me felt like herself, but I distrusted this person claiming to be my father. Mayor Kent felt more real than calling him father.

    He studied me in return. ¡°You look tired as heck.¡± Like my brother and I, he worked hard not to cuss. That much felt right. He was soft spoken and almost whispered.

    ¡°I am.¡±

    ¡°So, why don¡¯t you and Callisto go find a room, see if you can reignite an old flame, or just get some sleep and we¡¯ll catch up soon.¡± He smiled. ¡°There¡¯s¡±¡ªMayor Kent glanced to the side and winced¡ª¡°lots of empty places in the park. Lighting¡¯s a bit of a pain. A lot of people use a western side for nights, and eastern for sleeping. Helps keep track of time using the sun.¡±

    My body jerked. Another series of thoughts flashed through my mind, wholly sinful. The idea of taking Callisto anywhere had stirred suppressed desire. Then it struck me, I did know Callisto. Only before, she¡¯d been a brunette and kind of plain. That had been toward the end of high school.

    That scored a point in dad¡¯s favor. He¡¯d been around when I briefly dated her. Sarah Hutchins. She¡¯d been a bit plumper when we went out, but she¡¯d broken up with me, not the other way around. The end of our old world agreed with her, or at the least, made her far more appealing.

    However, a stump with a hole might have been attractive too.

    Callisto took a deep breath. I noticed every single motion as if it were etched into my mind. I might be able to give Allegra a run for her money in redrawing the scene.

    ¡°Come on, Hawthorn. I¡¯ve got a place on the eastern side. One of the¡­ empty cabins.¡± She fidgeted with a sword at her hip and pushed it back to the side. ¡°We¡¯ll be able to talk in private.¡±

    Her fingers pulled at the hem of the torn shirt.

    When I looked up, Callisto smiled. I took that to be an invitation soon to be fulfilled.

    Admission: If I really focus on remembering how she looked, it is probable that she wasn¡¯t happy with escorting me anywhere. Callisto smiled, but there was a wince to it, a slight hesitation. I do not know if it was because of this new world, me looking inhuman, or trauma. Then that vanished and was replaced with something more lustful.

    She walked off, and I stumbled after, without question. My head felt heavy and pants tight. Each bush, corner, or well propped tent looked more inviting than the last. Callisto had been one of my first girlfriends and there were a lot of memories bound up in that.

    I¡¯d show her exactly what she gave up.

    ¡°Kent gave you the tour?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I said with my eyes firmly glued on her hips. It was crass and I honestly tried to pull my gaze away.

    ¡°Is it better than that other camp you went to?¡±

    ¡°The people don¡¯t look afraid. Except the elves. They¡¯re scared.¡± The words made me pause. Maybe I¡¯d been paying closer attention than expected. There were a lot of differences, but something about how the elves reacted to Mayor Kent set me off.

    ¡°Yes. They are,¡± Callisto responded.

    We continued through a small patch of woodland. The briar barrier was still in the distance. Callisto pushed along a path that I barely noticed when given better sights to pay attention to.

    ¡°Kent likes to give the orders around here. And most of us are all too eager to agree. But anyone can leave if they want. He¡¯s turned this place into a forest castle. His idea of protection is to build a higher wall and force the strongest out to forage for others.¡±

    She stepped into a house and I paused at the doorway. It was extremely dark but her form stood out, especially as she bent over a table to pick up a matchbox. The sudden burst of light made me reel back and stop leering at her well crafted thighs.

    ¡°Kent¡ª¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you call him mayor?¡± I asked abruptly. My eyes were still blinded by the lantern being lit. A white haze blurred everything. Oddly, being blind made it easier to think clearly.

    ¡°He¡¯s not my mayor, but I make certain concessions, to have a place that¡¯s safe for myself. Most of us here, don¡¯t have homes to return to. Not anywhere that¡¯s safe to sleep at. The tougher monsters hunt us down.¡±

    I lost track of what she was saying as my vision returned. Callisto wore less now. Her top shirt was gone, pants had been discarded. All that remained was black hair, chain mail, and whatever dangles of fabric she wore under that. I suspected she should wear more padding to avoid chafing. It also would have given me more to remove.

    Callisto turned away from me. It felt as though I simply blinked and her chain mail armor had somehow instantly hit the floor. She had a single layer of thin clothes on.

    I was losing my mind. It was the form, at least I thought it was the form. My fingers fumbled as I kept trying to reach the buckles to Callisto¡¯s top. They were strings, at least, I thought they were. They led me to her arms, which trailed farther down until my mind blanked out with need.

    It was like being on ecstasy. Even the air felt electric. It tingled and brushed across my skin and made every inch of Callisto¡¯s finely honed body feel delightful.

    She shuddered and melted backward into my embrace. I curled my arms around her and trailed fingers up to her breasts. My body shuddered.

    ¡°God, yes,¡± I said.

    ¡°Just say yes.¡±

    It registered slowly that we¡¯d been talking as we came into a makeshift bedroom. What, exactly, had been the subject, was beyond me. All I knew now was a naked woman was in my arms. My own clothes were gone, and she felt amazing.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I happily responded.

    ¡°Yes, what?¡±

    I paused my meanderings and delightful enjoyment of how her neck tasted. There was a scent of warm earth, fresh turned up from a garden. It fit a hard working woman like the one Callisto had become.

    ¡°Did you forget what we were just talking about?¡±

    ¡°I did. You distracted me.¡± Honestly, I hadn¡¯t been paying attention to a word to come out of her mouth. Instead, a long list of positions to explore played through my mind.

    ¡°Your dad wants you to help him take over the city. But I only care about keeping the people here safe. Can you help me do that?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± That was an easy one. People should stick together. As long as they weren¡¯t being enslaved or selling their children to unknown creatures like the stewardesses. Happy with my answer, I went back to helping Callisto summon forth more attractive noises.

    She stopped after a moment and grabbed my hands. ¡°Will you love me?¡±

    Love was impossible. I wasn¡¯t a creature who felt that way about anyone. Lust, certainly the burning need to feel her body arch in pleasure against mine.

    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°But I will make you cry out in pleasure. Again, and again.¡±

    ¡°You only want to have sex with me?¡±

    Another easy question. ¡°I can¡¯t think of anything else. Not right now. I promise to make sure you enjoy every moment of it.¡±

    And I did. We went three rounds. I felt well enough to go four, or five. Each time only made me desire more of her body. I couldn¡¯t remember the color of her eyes once we finished, but I knew every inch of her legs and belly by touch alone.

    My body rode the last of several loin numbing orgasms that made sex before the event feel like a faint dream. Every muscle in my body reported being worn, pleasantly, to a nub. Callisto was a bundle of sweat. The slightest movement in her direction made her giggle and push me away. I reached anyway.

    She took a breath and I fought to keep my raging libido under control. ¡°Can you think clearly now?¡±

    ¡°Not for long,¡± I said. This body¡¯s requirement to speak the truth made me constantly surprise myself. It was like I had no defenses against admitting feelings that would have normally been kept secret.

    ¡°I need you to protect me,¡± Callisto started then waited for me to speak.

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    ¡°From your father. He¡¯s dangerous, Thorn. You know that, right?¡±

    I nodded. Of course my father was dangerous. He¡¯d left me behind to wander the world after mom died. He was uncaring and distant at best, self-centered and fickle at worst. In this new world, being self-centered was a surefire way to be dangerous. She was right, I needed to help keep good, decent people, safe. If there were such a thing anymore.

    Post Note: By that logic, I was no better, and certainly had proven myself to be dangerous.

    ¡°He¡¯s got something planned. Something that may get us all killed. There aren¡¯t enough of us left to risk death out here. He¡¯ll, send dozens to their death if he thinks it¡¯ll help you keep everyone alive.¡±

    I nodded again. If she¡¯d asked, I would have agreed that the sun turned green and the sky purple.

    ¡°That¡¯s good.¡± Callisto moved closer, and my temporary self control broke again.

    We went a fourth round before weariness claimed my mind. We¡¯d both become slaves to this form.

 Book 1, Rule 25

    Rule 25

    Find a Reason to Live & Protect Family

    Statement: This journal isn¡¯t about hiding from the past. It¡¯s about owning up to what happened while serving as a warning to others. It¡¯s about helping you (whoever you are) survive if this happens to you. It¡¯s about explaining pitfalls and trying to share truths.

    In a strange way, it¡¯s about keeping secrets too. That woman, the stewardess who sat on my lap, had explained that secrets had to be shared in order to have value. That makes sense to me, just a little, enough to know that writing down what happened is the right thing to do. But why? There¡¯s no one to read it¡ªand no one would take the time.

    In the morning, I almost choked on a tooth that had fallen out. I stared at the small dirty molar and wondered if all the physical damage had caught up to me. Carefully I poked around at the back of my mouth and found that none of them were missing.

    Instead, a sharper tooth had grown in the old one¡¯s spot. I rubbed it until the razor-edged molar, if it could be called that still, cut through my thumb. The change bothered me.

    Then I recalled what happened the night before. That bothered me too. Not so much the actual act, but what we¡¯d spoken of. It was too late to undo the events. I resolved to keep tabs on what had happened. It would distract me from the tightening of my chest.

    Admission: I have not ignored it. I wish I could.

    I left the repurposed room and ventured through the small woods. People kept about their day. Some smiled. Elves stared at me and twitched their large ears similar to a cat studying an interesting object. I smiled at one, it grinned back.

    Mayor Kent stood at a rail at the ranger¡¯s station and stared over the crowd. He shifted his eyes around, scanning them. He sighed multiple times before I managed to cross the field. He¡¯d been upbeat and positive yesterday, but today all that seemed gone.

    I assumed it was the lack of coffee. It had certainly thrown off my days. There might be some in one of the houses, if I scrounge enough. Maybe if he gave me a reason to feel welcoming, I could go stumbling around for a gift.

    Given my father¡¯s social skill since mom¡¯s passing, it was doubtful. He was a coward. He ran. And not once did the man who raised me show his face, or make a call since the accident.

    Dad called Richard. Richard was dead. We had no relationship, and I¡¯d bet all the money on my card that my dad would have preferred if Richard survived the line instead of me.

    ¡°Good morning, son,¡± Mayor Kent said as I approached.

    ¡°Morning,¡± I responded coldly. The prior night¡¯s merriment had been dampened by all this nonsense.

    He smiled weakly. ¡°Sleep all right?¡±

    I stepped onto the deck where he¡¯d parked himself. The briar bushes in the distance were more oppressing this morning. Perhaps pessimism had reared its ugly head.

    ¡°You know,¡± Mayor Kent remarked slowly. ¡°Every night I tell myself, over, and over, that everything will be better tomorrow. That maybe I¡¯ll go to sleep and life will be normal again. Then I wake up, and here we are. I have to stand here and stare for¡­ hours. Hours until it sinks in that this is real.¡±

    I understood but said nothing.

    ¡°The world is a disaster. This town is a mess. There are monsters around every corner. You¡¯ve only been back a few weeks. The rest of us, most, have been here months. Months of living in this twisted version of our homes. Every week we lose someone.¡±

    He glanced down and shook his head. I glanced to one side while pretending not to notice my dad crying. It was an unwelcome sight.

    ¡°Do you understand, son?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°But I honestly believe you can change it all.¡±

    I took a deep breath. My own list of problems had been growing rather long, and now Mayor Kent was about to lay another expectation on me. ¡°I gathered that.¡±

    ¡°Always the smart one,¡± he said with a sad smile. ¡°Anyway. The first couple of weeks were the hardest. People, most, were gone. Some arrived a week later, off one of the buses. Then more, and more. But people died as fast as they returned. By then, their houses had been broken into and valuables stolen. Most neighborhoods were picked over in the first month, at least downtown or near the apartment complexes. You can still find a lot of overlooked stuff, everywhere.¡±

    That made sense. A lot of the homes I¡¯d seen in daylight were in a sad state. Mini-orcs prowled through every nook of a building in search of precious ¡°eats.¡± Then there had been stockpiles of crap in Coach Madison¡¯s houses. They were probably still sitting there for the stealing, if it became an issue. I brightened slightly upon imagining one of the houses being stocked full of liquor and coffee.

    ¡°I managed to work out protection for our home, once I had the power. We were lucky that most of the monsters weren¡¯t¡ªspawning, I guess¡ªuntil recently.¡± He banged a hand upon the wooden railing. ¡°It was like those damn bitches waited until everyone was back before cranking up the difficulty.¡±

    His terminology bothered me. It sounded like Coach Madison¡¯s belief that everything was somehow a sports analogy. I¡¯d left the man scarred and angry.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t a game.¡±

    ¡°It certainly feels like one. You saw the others. They were given classes, like the old role playing my friends did back in college. Classes, spells, monsters, we get experience orbs and money for kills. Some people¡¯s abilities evolve.¡± Mayor Kent shrugged then continued, ¡°You¡¯ve seen it, I¡¯m sure. Hype told me he left you a lantern. Nearly everyone who bought something from that weird mall could get something from their first lantern.¡±

    I nodded. He meant that series of stores near the end of the line¡ªor at least I assumed he did. He could have been talking about a real mall. There was a small one near the outskirts of town.

    As for Hype, I assumed it was the creature that walked through walls. He¡¯d been the one to leave behind a lantern.

    ¡°Like I said, those that picked up items or titles, were able to use the lanterns to get a special power. It¡¯s part of the game those ladies are playing with us.¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    That made as much sense as anything else going on. I smiled then changed the subject. ¡°You were about to ask me to do something.¡±

    Mayor Kent nodded. ¡°Allegra tells me you¡¯re strong, and sneaky. I need those traits to complete a task.¡±

    ¡°What task?¡±

    Mayor Kent, or my father as he preferred to be called, huffed. His lips blew air straight up into long uncut hair. The gesture bothered me, but it had been so many months since I¡¯d seen him.

    ¡°I need your help taking over this town.¡±

    I twitched then got myself under control. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I can go into greater detail later, once you¡¯ve had another day or two to situate yourself.¡±

    ¡°Tell me.¡±

    Dad turned away from the railing and paced for a moment. He touched the building¡¯s side. I stared out at the field. At least four elves watched Mayor Kent like zebras keeping tabs on a lion.

    Finally, he said, ¡°I asked Leon to explain how the dungeons work. Did he?¡±

    I nodded. He¡¯d covered a small wall of details during our walk up the street. One of the facts had been that defeating dungeons helped the area quiet down. Monsters would stop spawning everywhere.

    ¡°What if I told you there¡¯s a place, at city hall, where a huge ogre resides. He wears a crown, and if we can kill him, take the crown, and sit in his seat, we¡¯ll stop the monsters from spawning for miles around. We¡¯d be safe.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a lot to take in.¡±

    The idea was absurd. Dozens of questions came to mind, but I was too busy reeling to even begin.

    ¡°That¡¯s why I need you, son. Not just to have family here. But because you were one of the last to come out, the last in this town. You¡¯ve got a power like few others. You were¡ª¡±

    ¡°Designed? Molded?¡± I figured out why I¡¯d been so irritated at this man posing as my father. He knew entirely too much about what I¡¯d become, more than I did. Midge had, albeit in a different tone, implied the same, that I was a killer.

    Mayor Kent let out air and sagged. He said, ¡°Maybe. An oracle told me the last to come out would have the most potential. You¡¯ll have an easier time with the monsters. Leon and Allegra, they both confirmed the same thing. Those who came later, had more powers. Most of the people here are those who arrived first. They¡¯re hardly a match for a goblin or two. And I came away with nothing. I ran through that line without thought. I was too rushed.¡±

    ¡°There were benefits to waiting.¡±

    Mayor Kent nodded and stared across the park. There were no goblins, or whatever, here. I still preferred calling them mini-orcs. They reminded me of creatures from a fantasy movie.

    His domain was a brighter version of Coach Madison¡¯s. Instead of the library, park, and rundown trailers, they had a simple landscape broken up by an area with pitched tents on one side, and gardens on the other. Both looked more natural and less shabby than Coach Madison¡¯s nonsense.

    Still, the effect was about the same. Places to sleep, places to grow food.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said. We¡¯d talk more about it later. At the moment, I needed to sort out my thoughts and make sure every question that came to mind was answered. If I started blurting them now, I¡¯d miss something important.

    ¡°There¡¯s another reason.¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°For our family,¡± dad said.

    I didn¡¯t trust this Mayor Kent. He looked exactly like my dad, but that was a man from memory over six months ago. He hadn¡¯t been home or called me once since leaving for his around-the-world tour. It felt unlikely that I¡¯d return to this world with so many people missing and have my dad be one of the survivors.

    Still, family made me think of those that had been left behind. ¡°What happened to my brother, Richard?¡± I asked, partially as a test.

    ¡°Your brother is gone. He took his wife and nephew with him. They exited. During the line. Early on.¡±

    My heart thumped loudly. Assuming it hadn¡¯t hit me in the same way as hearing it.

    I nodded. ¡°Then they¡¯re all dead.¡±

    ¡°As far as anyone knows.¡±

    I expected to completely shut down with the revelation but felt oddly accepting. Meeting anyone from my prior life was a stretch at this stage. The only reason I knew anyone in this town was because we¡¯d been returned to where we started.

    ¡°Well. Not all of them. Your niece. My granddaughter, is alive. I found her¡­ alone at your brother¡¯s house. One of the elves was looking after her.¡±

    Post Note: I want to say that my dad¡¯s look dispelled any doubts I had. He certainly seemed infatuated, but I¡¯ve grown increasingly paranoid since the event.

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe it.¡± I couldn¡¯t.

    ¡°Believe. She¡¯s alive. Happy, strangely. But Stella never knew me really. I guess I haven¡¯t been around enough. It feels wrong to reunite with my family like this. There¡¯s only you, and her. And you look like¡­¡±

    ¡°A monster.¡±

    Mayor Kent said nothing to that.

    ¡°How is she?¡± I asked, changing the subject.

    ¡°She¡¯s doing baby things. Eats. Needs diapers. Eats more. Cries and laughs. But really I think Stella could use family she recognizances. Maybe you¡¯d like to see her? Even if you¡¯re different looking, your face is almost the same. I knew you at first glance.¡±

    I didn¡¯t believe him.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure she¡¯d know who you are too.¡± He smiled in a way that felt wrong. Dad hadn¡¯t smiled in recent memory. Not since mom passed.

    There was no way she¡¯d know who I was like this. Brown skin and black hair were not part of my normal appearance.

    I circled back to the nonsensical idea that a child had made it through the line. ¡°I don¡¯t believe it.¡±

    The two story building in front of me was larger than I¡¯d expected. I¡¯d gotten used to seeing trees everywhere. When we¡¯d arrived I¡¯d been more out of it than normal. Existing as Hawthorn for too long left me all muddled. Now though, or I should say, after last night, I was right as rain. Focusing on anything besides sex was easier.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Mayor Kent said.

    Monsters were everywhere in this crazy world. She shouldn¡¯t have survived. ¡°Is she the only one? Who takes care of her?¡±

    ¡°The only one I¡¯ve found, and the Forestkin take turns watching her. They¡¯re¡­ more attentive. They consider it a reward to care for a human child.¡±

    That was confusing. Elves were apparently a well known commodity in this new world. Mayor Kent, Little Shade, and Coach Madison all knew about them. I made a mental note to figure out more about them, covertly. Being a sneaky person had to benefit me somehow. Eavesdropping would be a good use.

    ¡°Come on. Maybe the stakes will be clearer once you see your niece.¡±

    I nodded. Mayor Kent showed me inside. With every step my body tensed and I forced myself to relax. An alternate cascade of tight muscles and relaxing washes kept me off balance. The stairs felt too long and short at the same time. Each creek drug on for longer, making it hard to focus on my father¡¯s words.

    At the end of the hallway was an elf. The woman had a smile until she say Mayor Kent. He continued walking down the hall while the elf found a corner then slunk passed us.

    ¡°Stella¡¯s in there,¡± Mayor Kent said. He gave a weak smile, as if we were both made of glass and the slightest hint of real emotion might shatter either one of us.

    I nodded then slowly approached the room. Right outside were weapons and armaments, along with a whistle. Words in gibberish were printed above it, some scratched out, until finally a long red arrow pointed down. Someone had drawn a crude mini-orc next to it and an exclamation mark.

    Formula, diapers, and wipes were in abundant supply and stacked next to the door. That alone made me feel better about this place compared to Coach Madison¡¯s slave encampment. Someone, or multiple someone¡¯s, clearly cared about making sure the toddler inside was well stocked.

    Inside, was a room with boarded up windows, and a baby gate sat across the doorway. Small rays of sunlight shone from between the slats of wood. Faded blocks and children¡¯s toys strewn were about the room.

    I went past the gate and stood just inside. The baby paused and glanced up at me. She looked vaguely like Stella but I couldn¡¯t be sure. Stella was also the first, and only child I¡¯d ever seen in this after world.

    Post Note: I don¡¯t know how to pen this properly. She gave off no sense of guile or unease¡ªlike my father did¡ªshe felt real. Like I knew, somewhere deep inside that this was indeed my niece. I¡¯m torn between a prayer of thanks that anyone from my family survived, and a curse of anger that any child should be subjected to this strange world. How weak she would be. How weak she is.

    ¡°Hello, Stella.¡±

    She stared blankly. I could remember the cooing sounds she made on the phone. This baby made no noise. Stella sat ten feet away with her hands on a wooden block. Mayor Kent stayed at the door.

    ¡°I am sorry that Rich didn¡¯t make it.¡±

    Stella showed absolutely no sign of understanding my words or even caring about me in the slightest. To her, I was simply a stranger to watch and be wary of. My accident and hermit mentality had caused us to be distantly aware of each other. She was my only family, besides the man who might not be my father, and I meant nothing to her.

    I fled the room. I ran out of the building and down the street. Someone shouted after me but their words were lost in the rapid-fire pounding of my feet. I needed to be anywhere but there.

    Three blocks away I found an empty backyard with an awning. Creatures may have been crawling about in the darkness but they left me alone. I held a fresh star-wrought blade in my hands and wondered if there was any way to make this end peacefully. I sat, huddled away from freshly pouring rain and contemplated life.

    The storm reminded me of the one from the first night, during which three ladies had arrived on their madly speeding bus. Lightning flashed. As if the thought had summoned them, there stood three stewardesses.

 Book 1, Rule 26

    Rule 26

    Don''t Stab Everyone & Artifacts Are Key

    Statement: Upon starting this tale, my concerns were few but strong. My body had been wrecked by an accident that wasn¡¯t my fault. My friends had distanced themselves. Now though, my body is fine and my friends are dead. What does that say? That the only people left in my life were the ones on the fringes of my life?

    My niece, with barely a blink of life in her. My ex-girlfriend, who doesn¡¯t recognize what I¡¯ve hidden myself as. My brother¡¯s coach, a man who always looked down on me. And my own father, who¡¯d left. Magical irony seems to force me to interact with those most awkward for me to handle. While trying to survive monsters, of course.

    They wore different clothes and had eyes which were colored differently. The green-eyed one had her hair all puffed out. Her yellow-eyed companion¡¯s hair was tied back under a shawl, with stripes on her short skirt. Their third, shorter woman, whom I didn¡¯t recall seeing during the line, had blue eyes and almond skin. Her hair was less frizzy and tied in a ponytail.

    They all smiled in unison, displaying sharpened teeth that reminded me of a shark. The rain didn¡¯t bother them, it didn¡¯t even touch them despite the drenched surroundings. It was as if they stood separate from nature.

    ¡°Underwood,¡± said the green-eyed stewardess with a slight nod.

    ¡°Or is it Hawthorn?¡± the yellow-eyed one said.

    ¡°Lance, I say,¡± the third chimed in.

    ¡°What should we call you?¡± they asked at the same time. Their words echoed and a shiver shook my composure.

    These people had been the ones to usher humans by the truckload. They¡¯d guided us like lambs to the slaughter. I remembered them laughing at one man who¡¯d stated they couldn¡¯t hold us at that stadium. She¡¯d laughed at him. He probably hadn¡¯t survived.

    ¡°Does it matter?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Names are power, and a secret.¡±

    ¡°Keeping names a secret is exciting.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a dark thrill,¡± the third said.

    These two were heavy on the word secret. Every other sentence was ¡°secret¡± this, and ¡°secret¡± that. They were like a clutch of messed up parrots repeating the same stupid words.

    ¡°Why?¡± I asked.

    They had different reactions to my question. The green-eyed one smiled like a doting mother, or a lover when her partner said something endearing. It was the same smile, not that I remembered my own mom. She¡¯d passed away, long ago.

    Her companion, the one who cast a sickening vibe with her yellow eyes, gave a wider smile and ran her tongue along teeth. The lines to her jagged smiles were sharp and obvious. Of the three, she looked downright hungry. It wasn¡¯t in a sexual way, but more like a lion licking its chops.

    The blue-eyed stewardess barely smiled at all. She refused eye contact and stared past me. Of the three, only she attempted to answer my question, though her answer made no sense. ¡°Being one person is hard enough. Being three. Is dangerous. You¡¯ve taken three names. Worn them as masks. But you cannot be more than one you for long. Until one of them becomes real, with or without you putting on the mask.¡±

    I¡¯d borne this insanity for days and kept the questions I had to myself. Talking to others about the new rules of this world, revealing myself to them, it all scared me. I didn¡¯t trust people who might feed each other to the E-X-I-T doors for money.

    I looked down, to the sides, and at each of their faces. Somehow, I knew they were waiting for me to ask a question. They wanted something, and not knowing what put me on edge.

    I struggled to put the pieces together. Hephaestus was playing a game, as were these three. It involved us all. They kept the conversation on names, which meant that different names played into this situation somehow. Then I realized, on the card, it had names as well. Three, my full name.

    The blue eyed one had noted Underwood, when I corrected her. She brushed passed the first name without regard. Callisto and her friends focused on Hawthorn, because that¡¯s what I used to identify the brown skinned version created by that spell.

    I nodded. The blue-eyed one had mentioned three names and it all clicked together. ¡°Lance Hawthorn Underwood,¡± I said.

    The green-eyed one stepped toward me. Her hand touched my chest and burned pleasantly. Other feelings were mixed into her touch, the smell of dry fields in summer. ¡°Underwoods are honorable brutes.¡±

    ¡°Oh, but Hawthorn¡¯s poke at the hearts that matter,¡± her yellowed-eyed almost clone said. She spoke in my ear and a trace of barbecued meat and charred ash mixed into the sound. I couldn¡¯t begin to explain how.

    ¡°And Lance¡¯s bare wicked lies to save the lost,¡± the blue-eyed one said. Her head tilted almost shyly to one side. She was visible over the green girl¡¯s shoulder but didn¡¯t move to touch me. From her came the smell of grass after a fresh rain.

    Post Note: I couldn¡¯t tell you how it was possible to smell different things from people not even next to me. Like so many facets of this new world, it simply was.

    Her statement made the other two click their tongues in disapproval. She shuffled her feet and said nothing more.

    I didn¡¯t miss a beat and asked, ¡°But I¡¯m all of them. That is me.¡±

    They stepped back while I held very still. Part of me screamed to kill them now, and said it would be a great jest. Instead, I smiled. The stewardesses with their different features also grinned. Their blue-eyed companion reached for something inside her top, but was halted by the other two. I assumed she meant to hand me more of their fake money, but instead she sniffed and nodded.

    Thunder cracked, I blinked and the trio was gone.

    I slept poorly that night despite Callisto¡¯s attempts to soothe my savage beast. Before she or the sun woke, I slipped out to find a monster to fight. Anything that might help wash away the nervousness of everything I¡¯d learned.

    By dawn¡¯s first rays I made it downtown. That had been where the original note on my doorstep said to go. This was where Mayor Kent said he¡¯d been driven from because something here was dangerous enough to wipe out everyone remaining. I needed to see it for myself, to know what we were up against.

    Birds sat on rooftops. Their heads twisted around in endless loops, staring at everyone below. They looked normal enough until one turned its beady eye straight toward me and held still.

    Monsters hadn¡¯t noticed me but my experiences were few. Thinking about the stewardesses and their ability to find me at a whim, made me unsure of everything again. Being watched made it worse.

    Post Note: To be clearer, I felt, off. It¡¯s the same as that prickling feeling on the back of a neck when it seems like someone else might be in an empty room with me.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    My heart beat loudly. Eventually the bird turned away to watch something else. I stuck close to dirty walls with trails of ivy on them, in case my sneaking abilities had gone away. My fingers automatically scooped up the red spell and curled a step away from explosives.

    Despite wariness, I continued on unimpeded. A few blocks closer to city hall I found the buildings changed decor. They went from run down, plant covered shells of their former selves, to covered in flat chunks of wavy metal that reminded me of yard shed roofs. Discolored paneling covered every surface and arced between buildings to create a sort of wall.

    It reminded me of Mayor Kent¡¯s blackberry bush defenses, but man made instead of grown. Small mini-orcs traveled along the outside, poking the metal. A large figure, smaller than the giant I¡¯d slain but certainly bigger than normal men, stood high enough for me to see, then hefted fresh metal over the shorter wall. He set it down on top of one of the tusked monsters.

    The creature bleated and expired quickly. Most of his companions scattered like roaches. One remained, tugging at his companion¡¯s jacket. For a moment I believed it to be altruism, until I realized the mini-orc simply wanted a new jacket.

    I stepped carefully toward the building and found a fire escape that went to the roof. Rust stained my fingers with powdery clumps. Every third rung had signs of being used regularly. My mind replayed the size of those monsters and their arm reach, in case I¡¯d need to dodge an attack.

    The rooftop I found myself on had been a food court they¡¯d encased as a corner of their growing fortress. The place was hollow on the inside so people could sit in the middle of the building and still get sunlight. There used to be a Chinese place on the second floor that had the best noodles in pretty much every dish. I poked my head over the edge of the open air courtyard and stared into the old shop in hopes of a magical place to buy decent food. It¡¯d been weeks since I¡¯d eaten anything warm.

    Dozens of huge hulking mutants walked out of the old Chinese place on the floor below. Since I was on the roof, they were maybe six feet away at most. I tilted my head and grabbed a handhold, ready to pull myself back to safety and quietly retreat.

    A bird cawed loudly. The giants¡¯ heads turned as one to stare at the sinister raven above. I looked at the bird across the courtyard roof. It perched on the edge and stared at me with blackened eyes. The ogre men followed the bird¡¯s gaze to me. I turned mine to them.

    My heart tightened. They could see me. I knew they could see me, somehow. As one, the batch of brutes raised their much better weapons and shouted. ¡°My prey!¡±

    They stabbed their weapons at the roof, shaking the platform under me. I threw my red spell at the ground by their feet. An explosion went off. I readied a second spell and threw it at the bird across the way, hoping it¡¯d latch on to something. My body swooned from the draining effect and tilted into the nearest cover to hide.

    ¡°Where is prey?!¡± they shouted below me.

    They moved too fast for my tastes. The bomb had done nothing to slow them down. I ran back to the fire escape across the roof and threw a third explosion at the birds. Rust and dirt scattered the air along with chunks of rooftop. A flock of birds took to the air, circling overhead.

    A pack of singed, angry hulks barreled out the doorway roof access. My chest tightened. A bomb there would have been perfect.

    Ogres wandered around sniffing the air. Their faces twisted into uneven expressions of confusion. I debated stabbing one, but they stayed bunched together, moving as a group across the rooftop in search of their prey.

    I didn¡¯t feel confident enough to take on that group. Not without more testing on their durability. The ogres were at least as tough as shotgun wielding mini-orcs. They¡¯d had the floor under them demolished, in theory, fallen, and managed to get to the roof quickly.

    Those damn birds could see me. They brought my attention to the ogres. Everything here went against my abilities. I slipped behind a trashcan and waited until they left.

    From the higher vantage point I could see into the blocked off section of town. They¡¯d walled up a gym and a number of office buildings. I studied it while keeping one hand on my blade and the other ready to toss an explosive.

    Hours passed.

    Post Note: I could regale you with every second of this time frame, but it seems easier to note that one event happened over and over. Ogres walked in with mini-orcs. The tiny creatures flailed and kicked but were ultimately thrown into the gym. What came out was a creature halfway between ogre and mini-orc. I can only speculate that they were somehow beefing up the tiny creatures to become armies for their conquest.

    A coward and wise man would both choose to flee. Bravery served no purpose but likely death. I¡¯d come back here often to keep their numbers pruned if possible. It would help to explore the connection between that gym, the birds, and the ogres who walled off a section of the city.

    I slipped away, sticking to the walls and avoiding tattle-tale birds. I kept going until I found a small park where kids used to play. There, at the edge of the fountain park, I wondered about what had happened.

    My nephews and I had come here for ice cream and to play. I¡¯d taken them out to let my brother have some peace from the kids. Another memory that meant nothing to my survival, but everything to what had come before this world.

    I took off my Hawthorn guise and stared into still water at the man who¡¯d survived. Ragged brown hair that needed to be washed. Dirty fingernails that needed to be cleaned. Clothes that were an utter mess. Blood stained the parts that weren¡¯t shredded. Callisto had to be desperate to want to sleep with this train wreck.

    ¡°What a shitty mess,¡± I admitted.

    But my side didn¡¯t hurt. Nothing did. I had spells to defend myself and I could recover from anything. Stella couldn¡¯t handle this level of abuse. With Richard gone, that burden fell on me. He¡¯d tried to do right by me in those last days. He¡¯d been the only one to care.

    Not my friends. Not my dad. Just Richard, and he was dead. Stella had survived. She would continue to survive. I clenched a fist and silently vowed to kill anyone in this new world who might threaten her, man or monster.

    ¡°Penny for your thoughts?¡±

    My head jerked up and one hand went to the knife made of starlight.

    ¡°Penny. Not a poking. If you please and would you kindly.¡±

    On the other side of the fountain sat a woman cloaked in darkness. Far enough away that she could run before I got to her, but close enough that I almost risked it.

    ¡°Little Shade.¡± I lifted the blade slightly and wondered if I could throw it into her side. To let her feel the pain of having her guts skewered. She¡¯d stabbed me recently and it seemed fair to return the favor.

    Post Note: I know earlier I¡¯d said I made peace with it. I did, and have, but only when being rational. The me as of this moment, was not rational. Though some could argue I haven¡¯t been sane since this whole mess began¡­ perhaps they¡¯d be right.

    ¡°Stay over there. Don¡¯t want to stab you again. That I don¡¯t.¡±

    Little Shade had a few screws loose, but it was becoming obvious that we were all lacking some of our reason. I licked dry lips. ¡°I¡¯m ready this time.¡±

    ¡°Not ready enough. You saw them ogres? Right mess that is. Scary, they are. Growing in size every day. Even Coach Big Balls thought twice before coming down here.¡±

    They were a legion. I could plant traps for days and maybe never stop them. Assuming there weren¡¯t boss versions. Shotgun wielders were stronger mini-orcs, so these ogres must have a next level up.

    ¡°What if I told you I knew where something powerful is. Something that makes this place safer for everyone?¡±

    My head turned slightly as I eyed Little Shade. She held a pamphlet outside her cone of shadow and waved it. I could make out the words ¡°state park¡± but little else from this distance.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t believe you.¡±

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t believe anyone. Not me. Not that Kent twit. Not them gals that look like flight attendants from some old movie. The ones that drank as much as the passengers.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve seen them?¡±

    ¡°Seen lots of stuff. That I have. No one notices me unless I want them to.¡±

    There was more to that than a simple declaration of being clever. I already knew she was a ¡°sneak¡± and that we could see each other, but the stewardesses with their different eyes and hairdos could see me regardless. It stood to reason that they could see her too.

    Little Shade had also told me not to believe her.

    ¡°Any which way. I got a lead. That I do. A lead on where to find an artifact. Artifacts are powerful items. Not like what those adventuring types get from some made up dungeon.¡±

    My face scrunched up again. She smiled as if I had noticed what she wanted me to, but I couldn¡¯t figure out what had slipped by me.

    Post Note: Read it again. Read it again and again until it makes sense. Need a hint? Made-up dungeon. Who¡¯s making it? I don¡¯t know. Not Leon. He¡¯s not smart enough. The stewardesses?

    ¡°Why tell me?¡± I needed to know why she couldn¡¯t simply go get it for herself.

    ¡°Can¡¯t do it myself. Not until I¡¯ve figured out how to make two artifacts work on one body. But you could. You could get it and turn the tide of this little tiff. That you could.¡±

    That didn¡¯t really answer my question. ¡°Why tell me?¡±

    Post Note: A suspicious man might assume she wanted the second artifact somewhere she could easily get it again. I didn¡¯t, at the time. This is proof of how much I needed to learn to survive.

    ¡°Something like my hat. Just means a little road trip is all.¡± She ignored my questions. ¡°You go get it. You stop them. We all get a little bit safer. Until something else comes along.¡±

    Little Shade dropped the pamphlet onto the fountain¡¯s edge. I stared at it, and she left. I almost called out but didn¡¯t feel the area was safe enough to risk shouting.

    Instead, I slowly walked over to the piece of paper. The words on it shouldn¡¯t have made sense, but some of them did. Three words at the top stood out in clear English.

    My head tilted. ¡°Crown State Park?¡±

    If keeping Stella alive was the goal, then an artifact would be the means. I didn¡¯t know what was so special about a state park, but Little Shade believed one of these items might be there and it would help make this town safer. I stared back along the road toward Mayor Kent¡¯s distant compound.

    As much as it irked me, I¡¯d need help.

 Book 2, Rule 1

    Statement: As with most tales, we must start with common ground. Much of this first chapter will involve recounts of the people in my life, with more detail than anyone might like. I do this because my first journal may have been lost to the wild. They may have different rules to their scrambled text, making one easier to decipher than the other.

    Regardless, this is a story about what happened to us after the world went mad. It¡¯s a story about how our natures changed. We are no longer who we were and this should keep us all awake at night. To understand why who we¡¯ve become is worrisome, I must share a bit of who we were.

    The town had become a chaotic mess. Most of the worst damage happened before I got back. For me, it had only been a few months in this new world. For everyone else, they¡¯d arrived at random intervals over the year, using the same weird fantasy bus.

    My understanding, gained during the weeks after joining with Mayor Kent¡¯s forces, amounted to each bus back being a week after the one prior. Therefore, I had been potentially the last to arrive in this new world. Nearly dying to the E-X-I-T had been a tradeoff to receiving a discount on multiple items.

    The knife in my hand didn¡¯t feel warm or cold. The substance of it couldn¡¯t be described using words like iron, silver, or copper. Magic made the item by taking a starry sky and trapping it inside a thinly glowing aura of black. This is utter nonsense yet accurate.

    I used the blade¡¯s tip to groom myself. Occasional slips caused the knife to part flesh, which healed fast enough after the blade passed. It would have repaired faster if I¡¯d been in my default body. Normal me healed with a speed that bordered on absurdity. Male dryad me, healed about three fourths as fast.

    I sat in the attic of a building just south of the park. This place had been the safest in the entire park and afforded me two key advantages. First; a clear path from this attic to my baby niece¡¯s room below. A simple drop out the window and a twist of my lanky shoulders allowed me to leap to her defense against any invaders.

    Second, it gave me a proper line of sight to the rear exit of the park.

    ¡°What about Hawthorn?¡± a woman asked.

    Those words made my pointed ear twitch upward.

    ¡°He¡¯s probably in the attic. That¡¯s where he was last time,¡± another responded. It took a moment for the fugue to clear from cleaning my nails. The process had become hypnotic. It assisted me in pretending life had normalcy.

    The group below wouldn¡¯t come after me. An explosive rune was on the attic level along with a picture of a bomb. Even the new world¡¯s magic couldn¡¯t obscure such a clear sign. My rune spell only lasted ten minutes, but they were ignorant of its time limit.

    Note: As a reminder, or in case you¡¯re picking up this second journal without reading the first, written words in this changed world will become a garbled new language. I¡¯ve attempted to decipher them using children¡¯s books, but it is a time-consuming task. Ironically, this renders my own journals useless to me at this stage.

    Once, one of the elves had opened the hatch to see who sat above the baby¡¯s room. They lost an arm, until someone healed it. I had not figured out who, or how that happened, but marked it as a possible danger in the future. Healers were useful, but only when they cooperated with my interests.

    Sufficed to say, I did not trust most people in this place. Even those close to me, Allegra, Callisto, and Leon were kept at arm¡¯s length.

    ¡°Hawthorn!¡± Callisto shouted. Her voice had a rough vibration to it that sounded thick and needy. She¡¯d said my name while panting so many times that I had a hard time hearing anything else.

    To recap, Callisto typically wears torn shirts worn with age. She keeps chainmail over it and has more swords than a normal person would consider healthy. Recently, I¡¯d slept with her multiple times. Callisto seemed unaware we¡¯d also dated together prior to this disturbing new world nightmare, when I¡¯d only been Lance. I hadn¡¯t shown her both forms and wondered if she might freak out.

    She should be on the ground floor below on the wooden slats of an oddly sturdy deck. I could stick my head out and glance down at her but arrows were a real fear. The park¡¯s grass and shrubs were overgrown but this house still had a clearing about it, leaving little cover.

    This world had no internet, and monsters on every street. I hadn¡¯t fully mastered the art of throwing knives accurately beyond a few dozen feet. Hours of free time and a blade I could summon from nothing provided me lots of practice. Growing skills took dedication.

    She continued to demand attention. ¡°Hawthorn, I know you¡¯re up there!¡±

    I imagined her in an extremely compromised position. It felt like a fair trade for being bellowed at.

    If she kept yelling, one of the roving monsters might hear her. The bramble wall kept out nearly everything but occasionally small critters got through. Our most common enemies were tusk faced mini-orcs that stood about waist high. They were fantasy cockroaches and everywhere. Their meaner relatives included shotgun wielders and lantern bearers.

    Rocks pelted the roof. Their ricocheting filled the attic with aggravating rattles. I finished cleaning the last of my fingernails and fought off a shiver.

    ¡°Did you scout the ogres?¡± Callisto asked.

    She meant that question for me. I ignored her.

    ¡°He¡¯s not up there,¡± Leon responded. He¡¯d become a haunted man since the event. Leon wore golden plate armor, rarely stepped out of it, and had once been a bus driver for the city. He claimed to be a tanking paladin. Bright lights, a personal shield, and some ability let him force monsters to attack him.

    Observation: I¡¯m not entirely sure how, or why, but Leon might be magically compelled to be a slave to Mayor Kent. I can¡¯t tell if this is a ritual, some strange magic of the new world, or a personal choice. I do know that anyone calling him Mayor Kent obeys his orders for any number of reasons.

    ¡°He¡¯s up there,¡± Allegra said. ¡°I saw him on the drawing.¡±

    Allegra wore an endless amount of house robes and had magic that used paper and artwork to function. I still didn¡¯t understand how she performed her skills. They were flexible beyond belief, but she ended up being recon, buffing our abilities, and healing. We¡¯d worked together a few times, with her showing me the layout of a place ahead of time, or providing a map, then I would sneak in.

    That brought me to the ogre issue. We had to defeat them. The secret lay in getting an artifact from the local county park, according to a sneaky woman named Little Shade. She¡¯d given me the flyer, I¡¯d showed it to the others. Mayor Kent believed we needed to take the crown for reasons I didn¡¯t fully understand. Every time I asked why, he changed the topic. As a result, I¡¯d contemplated stabbing him.

    The knife in my hands turned to stardust. It also meant my explosive rune would fade soon. Creation spells lasted roughly ten minutes. Shape changing, such as the one that turned me from a normal pale male to this brown-skinned wiry man with stiff black hair continued until I peeled off the rune.

    So, Hawthorn and Lance. Two personas with different histories in this new world. Becoming Hawthorn had only required killing a woman and her husband. What I¡¯d done had been wrong by the old world¡¯s standards. That brief adventure and many others would hopefully stay in the past.

    Except for Coach Madison. He existed out there, along with Toymaker and Nix. The trio had been part of another compound across town. They¡¯d been quiet since I killed their slave master who put black magic collars on people.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Today, Hawthorn! We¡¯ve got to do another dungeon and need a better plan for those stupid ogres. If we¡¯re lucky we¡¯ll get a vending machine. Or maybe a scroll.¡±

    These idiots also believed our world had been transformed into a video game. Their skills and abilities fit. If I were assigned a class, it would be a rogue. Pure damage. Disproportionately lethal amounts of damage. The four of us had grouped three times since the slave compound and each time I focused on killing enemies.

    I stood and glanced out a side window. No creatures were in the woods aside from our people. They wore green bands on their arms to help identify friendly people from outsiders. I did not wear the bands because people hardly noticed me anyway.

    Little Shade did. The two of us were sneaks and whatever magic obscured us to other survivors and monsters made it so ¡°sneaks¡± couldn¡¯t hide from each other. That¡¯s what she told me, but Little Shade had been shrouded under a special hat she¡¯d found that cast a dark silhouette over her entire body.

    ¡°We should leave without him,¡± Leon said.

    ¡°We¡¯re leaving without you!¡± Callisto shouted.

    I lowered myself into the room. An elf, tall, lanky and confused, stacked blocks for a young toddler. Stella, my niece, knocked down the pile and ran over with her arms raised. At a year old she cried often, but the elves quickly soothed her with a pile of toys or snacks near the door. She¡¯d remained delightfully bright in the face of a crumbling world.

    So far, I had not found anyone else under the age of thirteen. It made her an exception among the few dozen people I¡¯d met. This singular exception bothered me. As a result, I¡¯d decided, rather firmly, to kill anyone and anything needed¡ªto keep her safe. She babbled to me. My thoughts wandered.

    Thick walls prevented me from hearing the trio outside. They might leave without me but I¡¯d catch up eventually. Even if they wandered off, I¡¯d still find something useful to do.

    Stella patted my nose. I reared a bit and smiled at her. The young child grinned and spoke in a language even the elves wouldn¡¯t understand. Baby babble delighted me.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got to go, Stella,¡± I said while holding her. My voice wavered but that meant nothing. I¡¯d left before. She¡¯d existed for weeks, or months without me. Honestly, I would be another figure who meant nothing. Hawthorn was not Lance in her world. We were not related.

    I had no good reason for keeping the two personas separate, other than a gut feeling. I¡¯d killed as both people. My abilities were shared between them. Neither form could lie.

    I¡¯d tried, but something about this new world or my abilities prevented me from telling anything outright false.

    The elf hadn¡¯t said a thing. He simply continued to stack blocks. Lost in his own childish game. The letters on the sides almost made sense. T-R-E they spelled, before the letters transformed into gibberish.

    Stella babbled. I made faces at her and enjoyed her giggles. The world felt right. My happy spot shattered as the door cracked open and a second elf charged in with a broom held high. Pinched eyes and twitching ears displayed her agitation.

    I set Stella down. The toddler wobbled over to the newest elf, who searched the wide open room twice before noticing me. The elf¡¯s opinion of me didn¡¯t matter. I left before their confusion could infect me.

    Outside, I verified the supplies were still plentiful. She had diapers and wipes for months. Food would eventually go bad but there should be more at abandoned houses. I worried about her diet. Knowing this twisted new world, the pumpkins being grown would probably turn into monsters. The side effects from eating monsters was unpredictable.

    I cupped my hands over my face and steadied myself. Giving into future panic wouldn¡¯t help. I needed to survive and deal with this mission of Mayor Kent¡¯s. Callisto also agreed on needing to defeat the monsters downtown. Both would allow for Stella¡¯s wellbeing.

    Priorities must be maintained.

    I¡¯d exit through the bottom floor and meet with the others. They were probably waiting or loading up the carriage. Callisto packed a lot of armor and weapons. I checked my own clothes. Defenses, for me, stopped being a concern in this new world. Creatures that hit me hurt and as long as nothing killed me outright I¡¯d heal. Pain meant death hadn¡¯t won.

    Admission: In a twisted way, I kind of liked being hurt. I don¡¯t believe this to be a side effect of any of the orbs I¡¯d absorbed. It seems to be a sad truth of my life in this new world. Here, if I hurt, then I clearly live. That matters.

    Mayor Kent stood at the stairs. His arms crossed and a smile on his face. The expression conflicted with itself. Crossed arms meant closed off body language, but a smile meant inviting. This bothered me as much as Stella¡¯s existence. ¡°Saying goodbye?¡±

    I nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve got to get going. Callisto and the others are waiting on me.¡±

    Mayor Kent gestured toward the room I¡¯d left. His face always had smudges of dirt on it, as if he¡¯d been out in the field working on plants until seconds ago. His clothes were often the same and the man claiming to be my father had taken to wearing overalls.

    ¡°Stella¡¯s speaking now. Almost full words. Though I think the elves are teaching her their language instead of English. Or it¡¯s just babble. You and your brother used to babble too.¡±

    ¡°That must have been strange.¡± Being around him made me itch. I reached into my book for the first page. Fingers curled, the light sensation of stickiness and burning let me know the explosive rune had attached. I could, easily enough, throw the bomb-like spell into Mayor Kent¡¯s face.

    From there it would spider web. Seconds later, it would explode. We were beneath Stella¡¯s room and the damage might reach her. My fingers uncurled.

    ¡°You are going with them, leaving Stella?¡±

    ¡°Correct. I¡¯ll be back. I¡¯m going to kill a lot of monsters so they don¡¯t come here.¡± That was my plan. Kill monsters. They wouldn¡¯t dare come into this compound. The logic seemed sound enough for this new world. Having a stronger army worked in the old world as well. One simply needed to demonstrate a disregard for all other life.

    I could do that.

    ¡°How long will you be gone?¡±

    ¡°A few days. We¡¯ll scout the town hall, again. From there, we¡¯ll head to Crown State Park.¡± We¡¯d done so half a dozen times already. Each trip downtown revealed an even more fortified compound than the prior adventure.

    ¡°How high are the walls?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re at the second story. Only two doors are at either end of main street. Over a square mile is blocked off now. ¡°

    ¡°They¡¯re catching up. If I were their leader, I wouldn¡¯t go anywhere until my defenses were better than anyone else¡¯s. You saw what happened to Madison. His walls weren¡¯t good enough.¡±

    I frowned. Coach Madison¡¯s walls had barely existed. His compound had survived through special abilities focused on enslaving others, and technical gadgets no one else had. Toymaker, Nix, and Coach Madison were all still at large.

    ¡°And you said Crown State Park? That¡¯s¡ª¡± The Mayor paused and counted on his fingers. He shook his head and counted again. ¡°That will take days to get to with the cart. If Arson even wants to travel that far, or you have the fumes to last.¡±

    Arson drove the cart. He took care of Callisto¡¯s weapons. He was black, crude, and also deaf as a post. I liked him. The fumes were a material that reminded me of incense sticks¡ªthey helped keep monsters away.

    The man who claimed to be my father continued citing problems, ¡°If we still had cars it¡¯d take five hours, maybe six. But now, the roads are crammed with defunct vehicles, and I remember giants being there when I first came to town.¡±

    Post Note: You may wonder why I don¡¯t believe him to be my father. I have trust issues. Prior to this new world, my mother died to cancer. Dad simply left after mom died. I hadn¡¯t seen him for¡­ a long time and had been living on my own. Since I could not trust him to stick around, I did not trust him to survive the line, or help in the town¡¯s time of need. Therefore, this might not be my father.

    ¡°Remember when we took a trip out there? You were five. I couldn¡¯t get you or Richard out of the water.¡±

    Five was almost fifteen years ago. I didn¡¯t remember it, and smiled instead.

    My father sighed heavily and deflated.

    ¡°You better get going. The others will be waiting,¡± he said. His arms opened for a hug. I did not return the gesture. Mayor Kent nodded and went by, heading toward an office he¡¯d converted into a half-bedroom. It sat near Stella¡¯s room. I¡¯d kept an eye on his actions in that office, but so far Mayor Kent only worked on one project. He had a map of the county with hundreds of pushpins.

    I wanted to know what they meant but refused to ask him. It wasn¡¯t talking to Mayor Kent that bothered me, but showing any obvious interest would give him an edge over me. The only person here who I actually trusted was Stella. Babies who couldn¡¯t speak¡ªalso couldn¡¯t reveal any secrets.

    Outside, on shattered asphalt of a former parking lot, waited the others. Callisto wore a sour expression and gazed toward the residential houses of our compound. Another forty refugees lived there, doing little more than tending and trying to keep the place from falling apart. A handful worked on the fence and maybe half were capable of taking on a mini-orc single-handed.

    People strong enough to handle dungeons and multiple enemies were outliers.

    Leon pulled on a shoulder pad and grunted as he fought for room. The armor flickered yellow. He smacked the plating into place and the dull glow faded. I tilted my head and studied the trio.

    ¡°We ready?¡± Callisto asked.

    ¡°Seem to be,¡± Leon said. ¡°Except for Hawthorn.¡±

    Allegra¡¯s feet kicked in the air. She was laying back on a cushion at the front of the cart. Leon sat carefully over the main axels. His armor weighed the cart down almost as much as Callisto¡¯s weapons.

    Callisto leaned back and pulled on the cart¡¯s side. It rocked with the other two in it. ¡°Get us going. Downtown, remember where we parked last time?¡±

    Arson turned around to face the others. ¡°Who sharked a landmine?¡±

    ¡°Park at the minimart,¡± Callisto said slowly while walking around toward the passenger¡¯s side.

    ¡°You have a heart,¡± Arson said while nodding seriously. ¡°But I thought we were going downtown. I¡¯m stopping at the corner store. You won¡¯t catch me going one step closer. Only reckless idiots take on those ogres. Me and Daisy will sit outside. Or maybe I can find some new material behind the counter. God knows I need some fresh magazines.¡±

    ¡°Never thought I¡¯d miss the internet,¡± Leon said.

    ¡°Ha!¡± Arson laughed. I doubt he¡¯d heard Leon correctly.

    Their ride pulled out of the broken parking lot toward the gateway framed by thick briar. None of the others noticed when I got into the cart and parked myself on the tailgate. There, I summoned my blade again and picked at my fingernails. Sometimes, I cut the flesh. The pain reminded me that this hell was real.

 Book 2, Rule 2

    Rule 2

    Learn Your History & Learn Their History

    Statement: People don¡¯t share anymore. They keep their secret lives tightly bound as though they might shatter if anyone found out the truth. Callisto, as an example, never once spoke of who she was before the change. A high school girl, going out of state to college come Fall. She had plans and I¡¯d been a hindrance.

    This is interesting to me. I wonder if it¡¯s second nature to be closed off. Indeed, I¡¯ve disguised who I¡¯d become. If anyone knew my secret, they did not share. Callisto should have been able to establish I was Lance, because she knew Kent, my father. Yet, she did not say anything. <u>Why?</u>

    On one side of the brier wall sat a half-forest half-park. Crossing the wall to the other side revealed a broken town landscape where looters had pillaged everything of value a dozen times over. There were boarded up windows, and car frames without doors, tires, or even padding on the seats. Most of those items, that weren¡¯t transformed into alternate materials, had been picked over.

    Couch stuffing became fuel for fire. Leather seats became outdoor chairs. Glass was melted down by two people on our compound and turned into new windows. Doing so proved pointless because mini-orcs would throw rocks through the windows a few days later.

    Nearly every piece of flammable material a mile from the park had been stripped clean. Once they got desperate enough, the few people brave enough to act as scavengers would probably start dismantling the buildings. There¡¯d been talk of waiting until we cleared city hall.

    A lot of the other groups bought the story Mayor Kent sold them. He¡¯d preached, repeatedly, that taking over downtown before anyone else would help take back the town. His plans to do so halted when he didn¡¯t have enough power and ran into the immortal monster currently claiming the throne.

    ¡°Hawthorn!¡± Allegra¡¯s sharp whisper broke the silence. ¡°You¡¯ve healed, right?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not here.¡± Callisto sputtered. The cart shook as everyone¡¯s weight shifted. ¡°How long have you been sitting there?¡±

    She must have noticed me. ¡°Too long, and affirmative,¡± I answered the questions in the wrong order. That didn¡¯t count as lying.

    ¡°Good. Last time, I swear he¡¯d broken all your ribs,¡± Allegra whispered.

    Admission: All my ribs had been broken. It hurt more than words could say. Even trying to write here about how badly having my chest caved in felt, would be a joke. So, I¡¯ll say I needed to crawl into a dark hole and heal for three days, before I could even dare to make it back to the park house.

    There were downsides to fighting monsters. When they saw me, it often resulted in pain. Being sneaky only worked until I attacked. Leon said I functioned like a rogue in video games. Sneaking around didn¡¯t get an enemy¡¯s attention, but if they saw me attacking their minds would wake up.

    I found it odd, since I didn¡¯t feel the slightest bit sneaky. He implied I turned kind of hazy until he couldn¡¯t focus on me without working hard. Callisto found it easier. Allegra used her parchments instead. She drew pictures of the current scene, including my hidden location.

    ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± Callisto said.

    The ride hadn¡¯t taken too long. Most of the nearby roads were clear save for a few roadblocks designed to obscure the way to the park. Those had been set up in advance of my arrival. The piles of cars weighed more than I could move myself and I hadn¡¯t met anyone in the park strong enough to flip them over.

    It might have been done by someone who left or died. A super strong human could be walking around out there. These possibilities remained unanswered so far.

    ¡°Where¡¯s beer?¡± Arson said. ¡°I haven¡¯t had a good beer in four months. Lord knows I¡¯m thirsty.¡±

    ¡°Amen,¡± Leon said.

    Arson hummed in agreement and nodded. His eyes were heavy lidded and a dreamy smile crossed his face. I knew where to find liquor but didn¡¯t feel like sharing. Hiding items from the constantly scavenging mini-orcs proved difficult and keeping items inside the park fortress took real work. Few places were safe. Most were behind decoy items like trash, broken picture frames and furniture, or in attics.

    I¡¯d been getting better at finding treasures, but not good enough.

    ¡°You all wanted this place right. The dungeon?¡± Arson asked.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Callisto exaggerated her response with a nod.

    Arson rolled his eyes. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be here another few hours. After that, I¡¯ll assume you¡¯re dead.¡± He got down from the cart and checked over the horse.

    I couldn¡¯t figure out what sort of creature the horse had become. She didn¡¯t look like a normal horse. She was too tall to be a donkey. Arson cared for her and the cart more than he¡¯d ever shown concern for the rest of us.

    Callisto pulled up two medium-sized blades. They weighed more than she did, which I knew first hand because Callisto and I had spent many nights together. Their size and mass didn¡¯t stop Callisto from treating them like stage props or wielding them with insane speed during battle. If Leon was our tank, and I somehow had become a rogue, then Callisto served as our battle plan maker, and sword wielding murder machine.

    ¡°Come on, we¡¯re headed down the back alley. It should bring us to the city hall,¡± she said. Her black hair bounced as she shook her head and sniffed the foggy air. ¡°This place still has the side effect of muffling sound, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. But I hates it. Its got rats.¡± Allegra shuddered. She drew her robes tighter and redid two belts to keep it secure. She grabbed a satchel full of papers out of the back. Allegra took the role of healer, and used her paper powers to track buffs and other intangibles.

    I didn¡¯t entirely understand her skill. The words that appeared were in gibberish, but Allegra could understand the ones generated by her papers. She might be able to understand other words from books, which would be useful, but I hadn¡¯t inquired about that yet.

    As with my father, I preferred to learn without needing to ask. It helped ensure she wouldn¡¯t ask for favors, or money, or anything else in exchange for a simple piece of knowledge. Being in someone¡¯s debt would cause conflicts of loyalty beyond my promise to Callisto and the need to keep Stella safe.

    ¡°Are you paying attention, Thorn?¡± Callisto asked.

    ¡°No.¡±

    She rolled her eyes. I smirked at being able to make her exasperated. She rolled her eyes harder and groaned. ¡°Come here. You need to know the key points.¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    Callisto motioned me over to an unrolled paper Allegra held. It was a crude pencil drawing of our entire area. One side was grayed out and Xs were everywhere. That indicated downtown and the region the ogres had walled off.

    Some markers were noted as fall back points. Those were for the other three. Arson would escape with the smoke driving away monsters. I probably wouldn¡¯t be seen by anything. Leon and Allegra needed the escape route. Callisto could probably preform her swift blur of movement and get to safety.

    We were headed into a long alleyway that went underground, then aboveground, and apparently across rooftops. I felt conflicted over how this might be a dungeon, but these places defied logic.

    ¡°We¡¯ll come out here. This promenade, right inside the entrance, should be a safe zone. If it¡¯s like every other dungeon we¡¯ve done, even the ogres won¡¯t be able to get inside.¡±

    ¡°Unless they blow up the walls,¡± I said, feeling strangely cheery.

    Callisto paused and nodded. ¡°If we clear every monster between these two points, then we¡¯ll have an easy escape route. It should take an hour, more if we¡¯re focused on sneaking.¡±

    The idea that Leon and his clinking armor could be quiet made me giggle. The three of them glared at me. I swallowed and reined in my maniacal thoughts. My eyes wandered again to the map.

    Recap: Each power I gain seems to have side effects. Or maybe it¡¯s simply being in a crazy world. I¡¯ll admit this here but never out loud (unless someone asks)¡ªbut I¡¯ve probably suffered a psychotic break. It is hard to self-diagnose this affliction.

    Admission: This is a frightening thought. What if I¡¯m merely in a padded cell somewhere playing out a delusional fantasy? Worse still, what if this is reality and I¡¯ve been stabbing real people while smiling. This last bit must be impossible. Surely the police would have shot me by now.

    I¡¯d been down in this part of town both before and after the change, multiple times. A long line of storefronts used to be here that were locally owned. A few years ago they redid the sidewalks and street signs to make the area more welcoming. This dungeon Callisto wanted us to go to, had been one of the unmodified streets. Time had worn it down, and homeless people used to roam the area.

    ¡°What¡¯s the boss?¡± I asked our would-be-leader.

    ¡°There¡¯s three, or four depending on what shows up. We could get a set of giant rats that leech health, an alley cat, or the beggar,¡± Callisto answered.

    ¡°The beggar makes the toy aisle look friendly. And he always does something new.¡± Allegra frowned and fingered her bag of scrolls.

    ¡°The toys are just cleaner. The meat aisle and him.¡± Leon shuddered. ¡°He¡¯s terrible, and has this soapbox he beats me with. Screaming about the end of times and how God is judging us all. God left. All who remains is our lord and savior, Mayor Kent.¡± Leon¡¯s nod caused the visor to fall shut. He propped it back up and banged his sledgehammer onto the ground.

    Callisto frowned and Allegra shrugged.

    Leon cast his eyes down. When he finally looked up, he stared at the alleyway across the street. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Leon had a riot shield that glowed around its edges. The sledgehammer was far less impressive. I glanced at my own summoned dagger and the book on my side. In the last month, I hadn¡¯t learned one new spell or ability. This bothered me.

    ¡°Come on, Hawthorn. These always go faster with you.¡± Allegra smiled.

    I found the two women strange. Allegra had a direct kindness to her manner that Callisto didn¡¯t. Callisto cared more about the group as a whole. Their actions were in line but their attitudes were not. These three companions were a puzzle, and solving their attitudes kept me busy.

    It was that or go mad.

    Post Note: To be more accurate, it was study my companions lives and see how much I could glean without asking, or spend time gazing inward and realize I¡¯d gone mad. This is like asking if it¡¯s better to go forward or stop and break down.

    Leon took the front. His shield faced ahead of us. His shoulders tight and high. I found the fact that he could hold that shield up for hours to be impressive. Strength would have been a useful gift. I wondered if there were monsters I could kill for an ability that gave me muscles.

    Callisto stayed next to Allegra. Of the three of us, she had been the weakest. Though I¡¯d also seen her use pieces of paper like disposable armor.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be scouting ahead,¡± I said.

    Allegra held out a piece of paper and chalk. The chalk lit up on her maps. I¡¯d use that to mark monster locations because her abilities would be stretched thin and Leon might not be paying attention.

    The others probably responded. Their words weren¡¯t worth listening to. I had the map from Allegra in my head and could cover ground far easier than they did. I checked a nook and found strange green rats sitting on a pile of trash. They dug through it.

    They would be easy enough to kill. I marked the wall near them with two long lines then moved on.

    Five rats were bunched together. A side alley wove around the back of an old movie theater that housed black birds picking at trash. They would be harder to kill. Each one got marked. Scouting ahead like this kept me busy and made it easier to handle being in a group. My first few adventures with the others hadn¡¯t gone as smooth and I¡¯d come close to knifing my companions.

    The spell book hung at my side using drawstrings stolen from sweatpants. On the first page, between thick mirror surface pages, was my explosive spell. I stuck my fingers in and felt tingling energy pool on the tips. As always, with the rune¡¯s activation I felt a strange narrowing of focus. The world became my arm. It pulled as the energy left me.

    Post Note: If I had to equate it to a modern feeling, I would say it¡¯s like rolling a latex glove off my hand. Only at high speeds, and it¡¯s burning.

    Crows were too hard to kill and weaker than the rodents. Down went the rune, a dozen feet away from the rats. Lines etched between five glowing points that became deeper holes. I ran my fingers over the edge of the pattern and felt the freshly indented ground. It flashed as the spell finished forming. Nearby I chalked a jagged circle that my group recognized as a bomb symbol.

    There had been a few minor improvements to my existing skills. The black spell that let me summon items made of starlight could be used on multiple objects. Two, to be precise. It let me summon my knife to lay into people, and also a fine netting I¡¯d found in a sporting store¡¯s fishing section.

    We would need it for the crows.

    I made it back to the group as Callisto¡¯s blade dug into a rat from the first, smaller group. It squeezed and hissed out a cloud of green. My blade sank into a second one¡¯s eyeball. My starlight knife withdrew from the creature and I used my free arm to lock its mouth shut, forcing the death rattle of gas to stay inside.

    It hadn¡¯t even seen me coming. Callisto barely batted an eyelash. We¡¯d been through this before.

    ¡°What have we got?¡±

    ¡°Five, then birds. I marked them. Once the ravens are clear, I¡¯ll scout again.¡±

    ¡°Still having trouble with birds?¡± she asked.

    I nodded.

    Birds had an easier time seeing through my sneak abilities. While I understood, the reason did not make sense to me. Leon had told me that game logic meant birds and dogs would both be used as scouts, so they could see through stealth. This sounded like babble by a man trying to make sense of the world through his video game tainted logic.

    Before the five rats, Leon walked to the front. Callisto stood to the side. Allegra held a rock to draw the beasts in. I readied my blade and watched Callisto¡¯s rear in wiggle in the chain mail, then thought entirely unwholesome thoughts that fit right in with a seedy back alley.

    Allegra threw the rock. It bounced near the rats. They squeaked in unison running straight for her. She backed up. Raging rodents veered over my explosive rune and went boom. One vanished in a puff of green. The others staggered until Leon¡¯s shield flashed with a white and yellow mixture that failed to be gold.

    Three remaining critters slammed into Leon¡¯s shield. They were too idiotic to go around or his ability made them dumber. Sometimes his abilities baffled me with how well they worked and shouldn¡¯t have.

    Callisto swung her blades at one of the distracted rats. I launched an attack at another. In seconds the boring fight ended with one and half exploded rats, and three and a half remaining, but certainly dead critters.

    The bodies collapsed into small glowing orbs. They would sort themselves accordingly based on contribution. So far the rankings were me, Callisto, Leon, then Allegra. This was fairly standard. Honestly, I¡¯d stopped keeping track of my points because there was little to spend them on.

    Reminder: Each of us has a ¡®debt¡¯ card. These cards listed full names, a point value, and titles. Mine included [Runed Rogue], which seems to be my class. At one point the card had temporarily included one for killing a hydra. The Hydra respawned last week, so the title went away.

    Points are received by killing monsters. They can be spent, so far, at vending machines or exchanged with certain beings for favors of information. This makes as much sense as anything else, and sadly lends credence to Leon¡¯s claim of this being a game world.

    Callisto checked her blades and nodded to herself. I studied her rear and nodded as well.

    The hardest part about Hawthorn wasn¡¯t the killing or working with others. It wasn¡¯t dealing with my supposed father. The hardest part is that sex, especially around women, always wormed its way into my thoughts.

    But I couldn¡¯t stop being Hawthorn. Then I¡¯d have one less secret, and that mattered.

 Book 2, Rule 3

    Rule 3

    Establish Boss Abilities & Loot Stuff

    Statement: Allegra wore her bathrobes. She never had less than three on. Leon always had his armor. I¡¯d yet to see either of them without those pieces of equipment. Callisto always carried weapons. Even after I¡¯d worn her out after a night together, she¡¯d curl up with a dilapidated pillow and reach under it for a knife. Only then did her breathing slow.

    I assumed these habits resulted from the changed world, but what if they¡¯re simply magnified manifestations of actions we engaged in before things became strange? Did Callisto tell herself that there was a butterfly knife in her dresser, in case? Did Leon wear a buttoned up shirt and tie, then tell himself this was a work suit? That he wasn¡¯t the clothes, but a man underneath? What then, did Allegra tell herself with all those bathrobes?

    The birds were easy. I threw a net over them and Callisto launched herself at the monsters. Allegra actually got the most points, as her papers were more effective against aerial creatures. I do not know why, and hadn¡¯t asked. This at least explained how the group had fared before I joined. Allegra¡¯s powers let her fill in a lot of blanks.

    Leon liked the fact that she could save her energy for healing us instead of doing extra damage. This suited his gamer mentality.

    Post Note: Leon actually said this, right here, in the alley as we were killing critters. However, he annoys me so I¡¯m covering up his actual talking with a recap. Most of this dungeon was boring. In many ways, it reminded me of the supermarket I¡¯d first done with these three. There¡¯d been a lot of nonsensical but familiar enemies. The others struggled more than I did.

    We pulled more monsters. Worms wriggled in a trashcan overflowing with a half-eaten sandwich of giant proportions. We went underground and fought two giant rats, which involved a strange tug-of-war between them, where killing one freed the other to chew on our asses. I was not allowed to explode anything while we were underground.

    Our short journey continued to the rooftop where sculptures crawled over the edges to drag us down. Explosive traps were especially handy in this section. I knocked off a small golem man and laughed as he sailed over the next building.

    Finally our path wound back to ground level at the final part of the dungeon. We sat in a slightly spacious area, facing a man whose body jerked unevenly. His head swung from side to side as he struggled to adjust his stance. I wondered what sort of drugs a person could be on to move in such an awkward manner.

    ¡°That¡¯s the homeless guy. He¡¯s the last boss,¡± Callisto whispered. ¡°According to Allie¡¯s notes, he has three main attacks.¡±

    ¡°He looks normal. Aside from¡±¡ªI motioned with my hands, unsure how to label the movements¡ª ¡°being homeless.¡±

    Labeling a person as ragged, given our mismatched clothes, dirt stains, and being in need of a bath or ten, is hypocritical. We were filthy ourselves. I frequently hoped one of my remaining spells would allow for self-cleansing. That would make traveling around the town for days on end much easier, and assist with disinfecting my frequent battle wounds.

    ¡°He¡¯s a monster. Trust me. We¡¯ve killed him before. But yeah. He¡¯s¡­¡± I pretended not to notice as her face changed from stoic to sad, and back to hardened. ¡°It¡¯s weird, but we¡¯ll do what we need to. Once we¡¯re on the other side we¡¯ll see if there¡¯s any way to sabotage the Ogre King¡¯s compound. We have to buy a couple of days or we¡¯ll never make it to Crown State Park and back. Not without putting the others at risk.¡±

    I shrugged. ¡°I offered to go there myself.¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Callisto fought back her shout.

    The homeless man¡¯s head jerked in our direction. He gazed for a few seconds, then resumed his unevenly paced staggering.

    ¡°You won¡¯t survive alone,¡± Callisto said.

    ¡°Aw, you care.¡±

    Callisto firmed her expression and said in even tones, ¡°I don¡¯t want anyone to die.¡±

    ¡°People will die.¡± The brave would die. Clever and cowardly would be dead almost as quick. The stewardesses had told me so and they abhorred lies. They may have misled me but not lied. This fit with my own inability to tell an outright falsehood.

    ¡°Not if I can help it,¡± she said.

    Allegra smiled at me and wiggled her eyebrows. I grinned back and pretended to understand what her expression meant. She¡¯d proven difficult to make heads or tails of. That bothered me.

    ¡°To the wall,¡± Callisto said. ¡°Wait before engaging. Thorn, set a trap on the path.¡±

    Traps prior to pulling bosses had become standard. I pooled the red energy and threw it onto the ground between the homeless guy and the wall with trash piled up next to it. The spell made me sway and caused our foe to sniff the air. It seemed unlikely he could smell anything beyond his own stench.

    ¡°Allegra?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got heals,¡± she responded to our leader.

    ¡°You ready?¡± Callisto asked Leon.

    ¡°No time like the present.¡± Leon readied the shield, walked toward the wall, and rolled his neck slightly, causing the metal armor to clink.

    I felt slighted that she hadn¡¯t asked me. Callisto bossed me around out here in the field. Being ordered about didn¡¯t add any thrill to my life. Provided we survived, I¡¯d get even with her in a more suitable location.

    ¡°Have you heard the word of our lord and savior, Mayor Kent?¡± Leon asked our next victim.

    That set the homeless boss monster into a rage. His head jerked and mouth frothed. Bubbles dripped down his chin as the man ran straight for Leon¡¯s position near the wall. He walked by the explosive rune.

    It did not go boom. The three went about their duties for the battle while I paused and experienced unexpected disappointment. Callisto swung her swords. Blurred images trailed after the weapons. The homeless man¡¯s hair twisted and formed a net that softened the impact. She yanked away her blade and swiped the hair with the other sword.

    Leon lifted his hammer and light flared from the tip. The homeless man hissed and skittered across the ground on all fours like a broken marionette. I still stood still, stupefied by the lack of effect from my rune. That had never happened before.

    I stared at my fingers as if they¡¯d betrayed me. For a moment I considered cutting them off in order to teach my hand a lesson.

    ¡°Move!¡± Callisto shouted.

    My head lifted. They were embroiled with a creature becoming more hair than man. Strands reached for everyone in equal measure. Allegra held ribbons of a piece of paper. Tears formed in her eyes.

    I blinked and decided to double-check my explosive spell. It took a second to crane my neck over the barely open book. There was no red energy on the first page. The spell hadn¡¯t failed to activate.

    ¡°Hawthorn!¡± Callisto¡¯s voice echoed. She wove back in with both blades. They flashed and beat down multiple times in succession even though her arm only completed a slash once.

    My mental gears were caught on one question. ¡°Why didn¡¯t he explode?¡±

    Callisto drove her blade into the man¡¯s body. His arm flew off. Our homeless foe ran away from Leon on three limbs and reached down for the arm. His hair formed a nasty defensive net that kept Callisto from striking while he¡¯d been weakened.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    I continued to stare in confusion as the boss ignored my explosive rune twice more.

    ¡°Undead!¡± Allegra shouted. ¡°His body isn¡¯t real!¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± I said.

    The homeless man¡¯s head turned a full one eighty until he glared at us with an upside down grin. His scraggly hair dripped toward the ground. He might have found my surprise amusing.

    ¡°Gross.¡± My stomach twisted at the sight. This new world constantly provided disturbing visuals and most slipped by me without thought. A man¡¯s head shouldn¡¯t twist like that.

    The failure of my rune finally made sense. It disregarded the monster because his body hadn¡¯t been real. Learning something new about a spell I¡¯d been using frequently, after a month of having the spell, annoyed me.

    ¡°Do, something,¡± Callisto shouted.

    I pocketed a recently formed star made knife and worked to summon another net. Black pooled at my fingertips, joints curled in the right pattern, and a bottomless pit to nowhere formed in my palm. My third glowing finger dipped into the starlight and pulled up. The long net came out of the depths. At each juncture a small dot of light showed where the threads of night crisscrossed over each other.

    ¡°Charging!¡± Callisto warned.

    Leon grunted. His weapon flashed a bright light. The final length of the net came loose.

    The small man slammed me with a fist and sent me sprawling into a wall. A bone snapped. Agony flared and muted a second later. My body¡¯s ability to turn off pain receptors helped during the worst battles.

    My little knife might be good in a stabbing fight, but this needed a lawn mower or weed whacker. There had been hair removal products to use from a magic barbershop.

    ¡°Do you think hair removal cream would make the boss easier?¡± I asked our tank.

    Leon chuckled weakly. The homeless man staggered. His hair waved without focus.

    ¡°He can be dazed,¡± I said while nodding. My net worked on some bosses, not others. Those who ignored the entrapment entirely were normally immune to any of Leon¡¯s light show magic.

    Leon readied his shield. ¡°Fat lot of good that does.¡±

    The undead filthy homeless person with detachable limbs, shook off his stupor and charged. His horror movie form jerked with more speed and strength then it should have. Leon¡¯s body slid backward until he was pinned to the wall.

    ¡°Little. Help,¡± he said between grunts.

    I searched for an opening. Hair fluttered everywhere. Bits wove past Leon¡¯s shield and pulled his plate armor. My eyes switched between the knife¡¯s tip and the wild creature¡¯s movements. Normal beasts and monsters were easy because they had weak points.

    This would be similar to walking into an aggressive spider web of doom. His hair hadn¡¯t been washed. It disgusted me. Instead of stabbing happily, I coughed violently and gagged on my own tongue.

    ¡°Move!¡± Callisto shouted at me.

    Post Note: Callisto shouts a lot during battle. She shouts a lot during intimate moments as well, it¡¯s just harder to understand. This facet of her personality is the same both before and after the event.

    I dove to the side. Callisto¡¯s swords could be heard slicing through the air.

    ¡°Pushing!¡± Leon shouted.

    The undead monster chittered. Callisto¡¯s feet scraped against the ground. I hurried ten feet in the other direction, trusting them to keep the monster engaged, then turned to see what happened.

    Their combined efforts had caused the monster to fall apart. I tilted my head in confusion. Thick strands of hair lay between the scattered limbs that took the place of muscles. The scene reminded me of a broken rag doll that had come apart at the seams.

    My eyebrows lifted. I had an idea. Unfortunately, like most great ideas, reality and conceptualization would be wildly different.

    First, buy time. The net in my hand flew through the air with a toss.

    Frustrating Admission: Learning to toss it had taken weeks. Simply throwing a net is impossible. They have to be wound right, weighted at the end, and spun in such a way that they go wide without tangling themselves. However, for flying enemies, there¡¯s little better unless I learn to cast target seeking fireballs or something similar.

    It landed on the scattered bits of monster. Callisto glared at me, I shrugged and waved them back. Allegra did something. I¡¯d hoped for her to disrobe, literally. My head shook off the ill-timed desire and I went back to my task.

    The homeless person¡¯s hair had been black. The rune hadn¡¯t gone off when he passed over. I didn¡¯t believe it to be undead, but a puppet, made of human body parts. My first spell differentiated between the main body and a witless extension.

    The monster moved too quickly. Too many threads floated around to see where they might trace back to. I stopped looking at the monsters and scanned the floor. There had to be at least a few threads leading to a secret hidden location.

    I liked finding secrets.

    I ran from trashcan to trashcan searching for a hairball monster or anything similar to stab. The first three spots were devoid of enemies. Callisto shouted at me. Leon¡¯s armor kept banging. I drove thoughts out of my head and worked to use my abilities to find the creature¡¯s body.

    Between possible hiding spot four and five, Allegra sat on the ground, hand on paper. A sketch of the other two sat on the sheet. Lead lines of art blurred and bent back into shape as they fought the monster and were healed from the damage through her magic.

    I got distracted for a second trying to peek down her clothes then took a deep breath. Being Hawthorn came with complications. The next few spots were also empty of any obvious threats. Behind me the battle raged.

    ¡°Duck!¡± Callisto shouted.

    That warning I heard. My body curled into a ball with both hands over my head. A limbless torso flew into the wall nearby. It had been entirely encased in starlight threading. I briefly marveled at the durability of my netting then twirled around to see if there were other dangers to avoid.

    The head floated. Hair wiggled and reached with thick threads in our direction. It screamed loudly and hurt my ears. I could smell the foulness and fought back bile building in my throat.

    Admission: Regular monsters are bad enough. After a few dozen you learn to bury the mental sensations. Something this close to human, in pieces like a horror movie monster, and smelling like unwashed filth reached a new level.

    ¡°He¡¯s finding more parts!¡± Callisto shouted. ¡°See, his hair!¡±

    Clumps of filthy black strands crawled around. I shuddered. This fight felt much more taxing than all the battles in this dungeon combined. If we didn¡¯t murder it soon I¡¯d get extremely aggravated.

    My search brought me to the far end of the battlefield. Leon and Callisto still fought the hair animated body parts. In the sixth trashcan was a large fat rat with sick eyes and long hair sticking out of its body.

    A grin broke out as my knife came down. ¡°Found you!¡±

    It hopped out ahead of my blade. The starlit knife scraped against metal with an irritating sound.

    I ran after it, knife in the air. The fat rat dodged left and right but managed a straight line for the homeless man¡¯s body.

    It ran right over the explosive rune.

    The rat went boom.

    I stopped running and relished the sweet sensation of success. My earlier failure redeemed.

    Callisto held her sword up for a few seconds longer before sighing heavily and letting the weapon drop. Leon peeked from behind his shield. In unison they decided to pummel the remains of the homeless man and half a hairy rat until they turned into yellowish orbs.

    I quietly pulled out my debt card from my pants and studied the numbers. Sixteen hundred and thirty five bucks. Our fight hadn¡¯t rewarded me with nearly enough despite landing the decisive blow on the creature¡¯s main body. My head shook.

    The others righted themselves and walked over. Callisto had a scowl on her face. She tucked away a sword and pointed at me while her other hand placed firmly on her hip. I tilted my head to match the angle of her posture.

    ¡°What happened there? You froze. I¡¯ve never seen you freeze in a fight before,¡± Callisto said. My concentration wavered to her sweat soaked form and I winced in order to hide the wandering gaze. Post battle adrenaline did serve as an aphrodisiac, but being in this Hawthorn form made thinking clearly a challenge.

    ¡°Maybe even Hawthorn fails occasionally,¡± Leon said. He clapped me on the back. My body jerked under the weighty impact.

    ¡°Occasionally,¡± I said.

    Standing there in confusion had been a form of failure. My rune failing to go off disturbed me. It going off when the rat ran over it had made everything right in the world. I hoped the monster had enough brainpower to be surprised as its body was torn to shreds by the force of my spell. That idea made me happy. I snorted and broke into mad laughter.

    Post Note: More accurately, my ability¡¯s new aspect surprised me. I assumed it to be failure, but it had been a lack of understanding. These abilities were the secret to my survival and for a moment, I doubted them, myself, and everything. This served as a learning opportunity.

    ¡°I don¡¯t like undead,¡± I said after calming down. My nose felt clogged. ¡°Or waving hair.¡±

    That brought my weaknesses up to at least four. Lust for female backsides both large and small. A main body that I compulsively kept quiet about. Undead who couldn¡¯t be blown up. Unwashed hair.

    ¡°I guess you¡¯re not the perfect son after all,¡± Callisto said.

    ¡°Correct. I am a terrible son.¡± The realization made me pause. A lie would have been impossible to utter so logically this had been the truth. I was a bad son.

    The others were wise enough to ignore my commentary. They might also be storing away details in a similar manner to my own information gathering.

    ¡°All right, we¡¯ll check for treasure, then we¡¯ll go up the ladder over there,¡± Callisto said. ¡°Allegra can you spare some mana to check for secret rooms? I don¡¯t want to compromise the second mission here.¡±

    Allegra nodded and gazed at her large piece of paper. My body shook from a deep shuddering breath. My wounds were superficial. She wouldn¡¯t spare a second to heal me. Our focus had shifted from my problems to business as usual. This was preferred.

    We went about searching for treasure. This process confused me. Monsters dying and becoming orbs still struck me as odd. Expecting to find a sacred pair of panties after beating up a homeless person, or some other equally illogical item, also made no sense.

    When we found a pair of magical panties, Callisto suggested that Leon wear them instead. He took the item. This world we lived in stunk of illogical madness. I replayed the fight with the monster and magical item. There were always lessons to learn and I¡¯d continue absorbing this knowledge.

    Post Note: With regard to the double dead hair boss monster, this isn¡¯t the weirdest combination I¡¯ve seen. We had the steroid mini-hulk cashier who threw soda bottles. The three headed hydra that argued with itself and had Dalmatian coloring (I may not have mentioned this). And a bird who screamed, ¡°Your mom¡¯s a whore,¡± over and over while dropping explosive defecation on the ground.

    For those interested, I de-winged the bird and kept it alive as I plucked every single feather. The others refused to talk to me for three days. I still consider this a win all around. It should be noted that I do not enjoy insults to my mother.

 Book 2, Rule 4

    Rule 4

    Trial and Error Sucks & Don¡¯t Get Caught

    Statement: A tiny faerie named Midge the Tattletale once spouted to me about secrets. So did the stewardesses, and Little Shade. Secrets are important to this world. But I have only found monsters to fight, and artifacts that gave me extra abilities. These do not feel like secrets, so much as prizes for survival.

    Is it my perspective that is wrong, or is there more to the deal of a secret than simply finding stuff? Little Shade said a secret led her to a wide brimmed hat that cast a permanent shadow. What was the point of having this in the world? I can¡¯t figure out how it all relates and it¡¯s driving me mad.

    Multiple aspects of our altered reality still made no sense. We¡¯d spent the last hour fighting comically enlarged versions of alley denizens. In theory, by having completed the ¡°dungeon¡± and using a nearby exit point, we would be obscured from the enemy¡¯s view. There¡¯d also be no newly spawned monsters in the event of our need to flee from an enraged ogre compound.

    We sat on a second floor roof behind a broken food sign. This had been a burger place. Below us were giant ogres topping eight or nine feet in height. They ignored us and went about their tasks. Their backs bowed by excessive muscle. Their calves easily thicker than my entire body. Dozens of the monsters dragged sheets of metal and nailed them to support beams that arched over the former street right across the way.

    Post Note: The simplest description of this place is as follows; take every single outdoor shed in the city, strip their metal siding off, and use it to make new walls where desired. Apply ample urine and indifference. Age until the surface takes on a reddish hue. Dab refuse for an extra touch.

    They were encasing the block and removing any possible light that might peek in. Our burger joint lookout sat right at the edge of their current fortifications. Over the buildings and two blocks in, would be the converted room that used to house a presidential statue. Last time, I¡¯d noticed that the ogres had removed the marble statue of president Lincoln and turned it into a throne.

    ¡°Even if we succeed in slowing their growth down, how do we kill their leader? His eyes weren¡¯t that weak last time. Maybe his heel?¡± Leon sat on a sturdy wooden stool that someone had brought to the roof. Carrying around all that armor wore him down. I¡¯d seen him without the pads once, exactly once, he had thick shoulders, and blood stained bandages. Even that one glance had been lucky, and he¡¯d still worn his chest piece and leggings.

    ¡°Like Achilles? You think he¡¯s been dipped in a river and that¡¯s why he¡¯s so impossible to kill?¡± Callisto responded.

    Leon shrugged and winced. The helmet normally covered his face but he¡¯d taken it off.

    Allegra lay on the ground with her legs kicking in the air. I waited for those robes to come down and reveal a bit more leg, but they were reluctant. My head shook. Allegra had a sketch of Leon and the Ogre King side by side.

    ¡°The bombs did nothing,¡± I reminded them. ¡°And I used three last time. They should have hit his heel. At most he reacts to the force, but it leaves no lasting damage.¡±

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s a siege event. Like we have to tank him, while killing his minions. Ten or twenty dead and the boss can be damaged. Any sign of his power coming from them?¡± Leon pondered.

    I stared at the ceiling and wondered if Leon¡¯s armor would protect him from a knife in the eye. Obviously not at that moment, but in the future.

    ¡°No. I¡¯ve tuned the map for power lines, and I¡¯m not seeing anything.¡± Allegra pressed a finger into the parchment as sweat dripped down her forehead. ¡°Near as I can tell there¡¯s no events.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t even get in there. Those ogres are too tough.¡± Callisto waved with disgust at the crowd of monsters who were steadily fortifying the area. ¡°I mean look, you can see where they demolished the heights. That means they had to take out the nests that were up on the eighth floor. Those support beams and the bricks are all being brought over from the ruins.¡±

    I didn¡¯t know what nests Callisto was talking about. She continued rambling about all the possible reasons we couldn¡¯t defeat them without more weapons, experience, gear, and powers. On this point, we agreed.

    South a few blocks, sat the ruins of a building that had once been the tallest building in town. I believed it to be where Little Shade had found her magical hat. She¡¯d called the place ¡°swanky as fuck¡± or something close. The building had been turned into a shell of its former glory.

    ¡°Do they have supplies we can poison?¡± Leon asked.

    ¡°There¡¯s a pig pen on the eastern side. And a mushroom farm. Then there¡¯s some room called the Swill Factory. I¡¯m not sure I wanna know,¡± Allegra said. She grunted and let out a long shuddering sigh.

    Honestly, Allegra¡¯s resonance skills were better than mine by a large margin. Her weakness lay in performing instantly. Most of her magic took time, and the longer she sketched a single picture, the more detailed it became. The picture of the compound she¡¯d been working on for ten minutes had fancy lines and scrawled details all over it. Several tracings on the page linked different areas together.

    ¡°I think I have an idea,¡± Allegra said.

    The other two perked up and jerked their heads in her direction.

    ¡°It¡¯s the buildings, isn¡¯t it?¡± I guessed. ¡°They¡¯re connected to his power.¡±

    The robed woman nodded. ¡°That¡¯s what all these markings show. It¡¯s not the people. It¡¯s the buildings.¡±

    Callisto placed an arm on my shoulder. I shuddered then rolled the shoulder to shake off the annoyed feeling. ¡°How did you know?¡±

    ¡°The first time I tried to sneak attack him, he didn¡¯t care about his companions. The second time, he still didn¡¯t care, but when I blew up a gym¡¯s doorway? He was furious.¡± I smiled at the memory. It had been extremely funny to find something that irked the smug monster.

    Post Note: I realize this journal may seem weird still. That¡¯s why I write these extra notes in the margins. Additionally, there¡¯s a month of time I¡¯m glazing over. During that month I refined my existing skills, found a better place in the party with the others, and killed a lot of lesser monsters. I¡¯d also tried to decapitate the ogre king twice, by myself.

    ¡°Can we blow up the buildings? Taking out their food supply would set them back.¡± Callisto stepped back to the edge. Her arms crossed and her short hair fluttered in the breeze.

    Allegra folded her legs and sat up. She straightened the house robes and patted her piece of paper. ¡°Taking out the food would make them range farther out.¡±

    ¡°If they leave they may discover our park,¡± Leon said.

    ¡°Or they may find more monsters and die.¡±

    ¡°No. It¡¯s not the food we need to take out. It¡¯s this.¡± Allegra pointed on the map. The rest of us gathered to stare at her penciled in area. Under her fingers the details refined even further, and illegible words etched into the parchment with such detail they seemed to pop off the page.

    ¡°I can¡¯t read that,¡± Callisto said.

    Leon winced and tilted his head away to hide a budding blush. ¡°I know what that is.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Callisto asked.

    I knew the place as well. Most guys did, even if they¡¯d never stepped inside. Leon could make an excuse about knowing almost all the locations in town, since he used to drive people around in a county bus.

    ¡°It used to be an adult bookstore. Rumor had it that the rooms above it were rented, with¡­ paid ladies¡­¡± His words faded and he coughed.

    Those rumors had been circulating through high school for years. Richard had confided in me once, that when I turned of legal age he might introduce me to someone in the area. It also meant that as Hawthorn, I¡¯d be going nowhere near the place. I feared what might happen if I walked in there with sex on my mind.

    ¡°So¡­¡± Callisto drifted off for a moment. ¡°They¡¯re making baby monsters?¡±

    ¡°Maybe? I¡¯ve never seen a room like that before. Hitting it should slow down this army.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t go there,¡± I said abruptly. My brain worked to shove out a whole list of reasons that would be the truth and sound entirely foul. Instead, I settled on, ¡°Someone needs to distract the King. I can also cause a lot of destruction to other areas. If you guys can bring down the building.¡±

    ¡°Can we bring it down?¡± Callisto asked.

    ¡°Maybe. If I have enough time I can probably find the right supports. Then blow those¡­¡± Allegra sighed.

    The other three kept talking and I reiterated occasionally that I¡¯d be elsewhere. My head hurt from dealing with these people and fighting off the near constant impulse to borrow Callisto for adult activities.

    It took us too long, but eventually we had a plan. I¡¯d go to the pig farm and blow up anything that moved. Once the confusion mounted enough, I¡¯d slip away and escape. If events went well, I¡¯d go to a third location and cause additional havoc. They agreed with me that the gym should be second.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    ¡°And all this destruction will buy us enough time to find this artifact at Crown State Park?¡± Callisto asked. ¡°That¡¯s what we need, time.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Leon said. ¡°The rest will be up to Mayor Kent and the gardeners. He knows we¡¯ll need days to explore the park, maybe longer.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure he does know,¡± Callisto said flatly.

    Their conversation led me to believe we¡¯d need a lot longer than a few days. I expected our adventure to take a week or two at minimum. Stella would be taken care of by the elves.

    ¡°You ready, Thorn?¡± Allegra asked.

    I nodded and shoved budding concerns down into a pit. Our success here would take the risk off Mayor Kent¡¯s people.

    Post Note: I look back at this and wonder why any actions from this day seemed like good ideas. We could have packed up and escorted everyone to a new safer location away from the building ogre army. We could have lured the hydra down here.

    Mayor Kent focused on gaining downtown. Allegra and Leon did as ordered. Callisto wanted to protect the people. I wanted to keep Stella safe. Each of us worked on this idiotic goal because of one man¡¯s drive.

    I promised to provide a clear signal. They agreed to start after hearing explosions. We understood each other. We went our separate ways.

    Having the women out of sight helped me stop imagining them without clothes. That freed up more time to worry about my success here. The other three would be able to work together, but no one would come to my rescue. This was not unusual, but for the first few hours after doing a group dungeon, I always felt mentally disoriented.

    Inside that alley, we worked together. The monsters could easily kill us. That fact had never once been in doubt. Being with the others provided a safety net that this sort of solo work couldn¡¯t compare with.

    My only companions were the ogres, who were oblivious to my presence as I walked calmly among them. Any one of them could have turned and whacked me with a piece of iron rebar or some support beam they¡¯d dug out of a ruined building. I¡¯d probably survive but be battered, broken, and praying my sneakiness kicked in before they finished the job.

    That exact situation had happened once before, during my first fight with three ogres at once. They were tougher in packs. I¡¯d sat out here killing monsters for three days straight before needing to return for supplies. Their hordes were difficult to quantify, and my actions might be equated to moving the beach with a child¡¯s toy bucket.

    My assigned target became a pig barn far away from the former adult bookstore and possible prostitute location for ogres. The building had a few thick supports in the middle and sheets of poorly reinforced tiling across the top. Allegra told me the ogres had stolen it from shipping crates at the back of a supermarket.

    I wove down the streets and under badly constructed rooftops. The storefronts here were hollowed out. Most places had been turned into makeshift beds. Clear indents were in the tile flooring and used wrappers scattered around in small ovals. These spots were where their oversized bodies slept each night.

    After scoping escape routes, quiet alleys, rooftop access points, and weak spots for explosives, I made it to the ogre pig farm. What used to be a children¡¯s playground and outdoor theater had been expanded on to become a large pen with thick boards.

    A long trough was on one side, filled to the brim with mixed materials. I paused long enough to take note of dead bodies, plants, broken bricks, and numerous other items that had been turned into pig feed. This ran counter to my limited knowledge of real farms.

    Post Note: Here, I should share that monsters killing each other don¡¯t cause the same effects as us killing them. When we remove them, light orbs appear and bodies vanish. When they kill each other, it leaves a mess. They also defecate everywhere.

    According to Allegra, there should be some support beams to blow up. By taking those down, they¡¯d have less room for pigs. Their food supply would be hurt, and the chain of effects went on from there. Examples included reduced food, reduced breeding power, and fewer defenders to fight off the other monsters.

    The place was packed to the gills with fat green pigs. I sat at the fence with my nose plugged and debated the best way through a throng of creatures that might mistake my foot for lunch.

    Other buildings were nearby. None of them had any chance of causing collateral damage. Most were already collapsed into rubble. Two ogres were busy dragging bits of conquered enemies to the buildings. Another lifted rock after rock and threw it at the trough. He missed as often as he hit.

    Ogres weren¡¯t much smarter than mini-orcs in this regard. Neither race had demonstrated the capability of using a wheelbarrow to make lifting easier. Still, magic must be assisting them, because this many pigs couldn¡¯t have bred on their own or even in the amount of time this new world had existed.

    Two more ogres grabbed pigs. Technically, one lifted a target then pinned the separated porker to the ground. The other punched the pig in the face until they stopped moving, and the first ogre carried it away.

    I watched for ten minutes. This process continued the entire time, with new ogres coming in for meals while others brought in supplies. That gave me two targets, with a few seconds to travel from one location to the next.

    The ogres switched spots. More came in seeking supplies. I slapped a fresh explosive rune down on the fence they¡¯d been leaning over to grab pigs. It should go off when the next one arrived. I ran straight for the pig barn wall and hugged its side. The ogres were stupid and unlikely to notice me, but standing out in the open would be folly.

    Wearing red clothes to blend in with the rust covered buildings might have helped. How any creatures could live, eat, or fornicate in this messy compound was beyond me. Mayor Kent¡¯s buildings were far cleaner and smelled better.

    Such judgments kept me busy until the first bomb was about to be triggered. I leaned out slightly to witness the results. An ogre reaching in to pull up a pig died as his chest tore open and body was thrown backward. His death and the sudden noise set the giant green pigs into a frenzy. Many pushed each other to get away, while some slipped out the new hole in the fence.

    Successful destruction of enemy supplies made me proud. I hung by the wall and waited a few breaths. They should be too busy chasing their food. I could sneak in and slice through supports next. It would be like carving wooden butter.

    I slipped in. Ogres shouted in the distance as the first wave of escapee pigs caused alarm. Their noises amused me to the point that I¡¯d started bobbing my head merrily.

    Post Note: I attribute this bout of merriment to the deranged mentality brought on by my Hawthorn form. A more sensible person would have focused utterly on the task at hand and not spared thoughts for victory rewards by Callisto and Allegra.

    The building which housed hundreds of pigs groaned as I sawed through a poor support beam. Straps were on the roof where they¡¯d used long chains to tie slats into place. These ogres were terrible craftsmen.

    ¡°Warrrrrrrr!¡± a voice bellowed in the distance.

    I pooled the rune spell for an explosive and flung it toward another support. Mechanically I reached for the black spell to pull a fresh net out of inventory.

    ¡°Warrrrr!¡± it screamed a second time, much closer.

    The wall shuddered as my explosive spell detonated. A small hole formed in the metal shedding. Bits of pig and an ogre scattered around the inside of the barn. I chopped at the second support faster, working to get real damage done before the Ogre King showed up.

    A piece of meat slammed into my face, dazing me briefly. My net holding hand fell as a sudden increase of weight threw off my balance. Entangled in my netting were chunks of dead animal. The bone alone weighed more than any shank of pork I¡¯d ever held before.

    A hulking figure with white skin and bulging veins stepped through the fresh hole. I eyed him. He eyed me. I cursed and threw the net. It flopped two feet away, too heavy to achieve any distance.

    My stealth skills were clearly no longer in effect. The ogre stopped and stared at the dangling bits of pork and salivated. His back hunched further as he stepped closer.

    He snarled. ¡°Don¡¯t touch the meat.¡±

    I touched the meat by picking up another disconnected bit of pig and raised it. My eyebrow lifted in question. The fact that he showed no regard for his dismembered companion, whose body hung in the freshly blasted hole, made me wonder about his cognitive ability.

    ¡°The pork fat which rules. It is ours!¡± the ogre bellowed at me.

    Spittle flew along with chunks of rotten flesh and other unidentified substances. I stood there calmly and lifted my knife and bone. His eyes followed the bone as nostrils flared.

    ¡°Give. It. To. Us!¡± the ogre shouted. He clearly intended to browbeat me into submission through the brute force of his speech.

    I gave him the blade, right in his eyeball. It continued with ease until the nearly foot long blade reached the hilt. The ogre¡¯s body convulsed. I let go of the handle and continued smiling.

    It served him right for yelling at me like that. It had been rude, uncalled for, and disgusting.

    I wondered, briefly, if the ogre had expected me to hand over the bone. That sounded stupid. These creatures were obviously unintelligent.

    The wall near me shattered as a mass of muscle and rage made a fresh opening. A hand, larger than I was, sailed out of the flying debris and snatched the air around me. I ducked to get away but my arm got caught in the giant¡¯s grasp.

    A second hand locked around my legs. The latest enemy had effectively pinned my knife hand, ignored the blade¡¯s sharpness entirely, then captured my legs, all in the time it took me to grab a breath.

    I screamed in sudden pain and swung the pork shank at my attacker. The piece of meat didn¡¯t make a dent. My captivity continued. A child slapping a body builder would have had more effect.

    ¡°You will be a good slave!¡± the new attacker shouted.

    Dust settled. I lifted my head and fought to ignore the grinding sound of my bones. Pain would fade.

    Post Note: I told myself this repeatedly. Pain would fade. I thought, therefore I still survived. This mantra almost keeps me sane in a world of madness.

    ¡°Submit to my empire!¡± he shouted. ¡°Kill for me!¡±

    A wave of nausea pulled at my stomach and turned my head to mush. He tightened his grip and my body felt like paste being squeezed out of a tube. I grunted and wondered how long my legs would take to heal.

    ¡°Submit!¡±

    Liquid splattered upon my face. My ears flooded with fluid. The world continued to spin and my eardrums popped with a distorted echo. I dropped the piece of meat and used my hand to fumble for a spell. The book sat squished between my leg and the giant¡¯s index finger.

    For a moment, I worried that maybe the spell book had broken. That went away quickly. Flesh would give way before those reflective metal pages warped.

    I thought I managed to pry apart the pages but couldn¡¯t feel much anymore. The pressure grew and my mind simply clicked off the pain. My hand might be broken or fractured.

    ¡°Submit or die!¡±

    I pooled the red. A faint sensation of burning told me the spell glommed onto my fingertips. My hand curled reflexively into the proper gesture and shoved the spell at the Ogre King¡¯s face. It took a second to shake the rune loose. It attached to his face.

    He laughed as lines etched themselves into his skin. He continued laughing as the star like points lit. He paused, leaned in, and large lips smiled as the spell went critical. At that moment, I understood why people might find it disturbing when I smiled at them. Seeing a face so close to human mocking me sent a chill down my spine that no amount of derangement could protect me from.

    I¡¯d never been this close to my own explosive. The world went boom and my body jerked away from the sheer force.

    When we started this plan, my main goal had been to distract the Ogre King away from the others. They could sabotage his breeding and if I did an equal amount of damage then we¡¯d buy our compound time.

    I hadn¡¯t expected the Ogre King to knock over his own building to get me. His compulsion spell also proved dangerous. Blowing myself up had been a less than brilliant plan. Submitting had been vulgar enough that any other option couldn¡¯t be considered.

    Post Note: I dislike compulsions. I abhor slavery. This might be considered a weakness to some, but there are three issues in this world that cause me to make foolish decisions. Insults to my mother. Stella being endangered. Slavers.

    The force of the explosion had broken me free and separated us. Even his invulnerable body couldn¡¯t stop an action, reaction effect. I used one arm to pull myself backward along the loft ledge I¡¯d landed on.

    Below me the Ogre King stood calmly. His giant nose turned up in my direction. He showed no sign of damage and even his pants were unmarred. He used no weapons and wore no armor. He didn¡¯t need them.

    The giant sloped forehead made his amused grin seem wider than ever.

    I had to get away. Neither leg worked but that had happened before. Pigs squealed. They ran out the open gate and formed wide circles around the Ogre King. Fish would form the same circles to stay away from invading sharks.

    ¡°Killer slave tastes good!¡± he said and laughed.

    The Ogre King had a long hunk of meat in his mouth that he chewed on like an oversized chicken wing. The brown thin sneakers were familiar. Slowly, it registered that he stood there, mocking me. He could do that because he hadn¡¯t been eating a freshly torn pig shank. He had my detached leg in his hands.

    Pain hit me, sudden and unexpected, and it wouldn¡¯t turn off.

 Book 2, Rule 5

    Rule 5

    Safe Houses Aren¡¯t & Honor Old Allegiances

    Statement: I find myself wondering about something Midge spoke of. That there are multiple types of secrets. She never told me what those types were¡ªbut I believe there may be secret locations, or hidden prizes. Then the best kind of all, secrets people keep about themselves. My hand shakes as I write this, for I¡¯ve started to believe there¡¯s really something to this idea.

    Now, at the time of this story, I hadn¡¯t fully dawned upon the realization. Here is where it truly started. When I resolved myself to learn secrets about my companions. Simply the idea had me smiling. Imagine, that I finally understood why being around Callisto, knowing who she was before the change, made me giddy. I relished the idea of telling her, because the stewardess might be right, a secret only we two would know, could be delightfully delicious.

    Seeing my body in pieces broke me. I screamed louder and longer than I¡¯d ever thought possible. Every hurt since the event had gone away when I¡¯d wished it, but this stuck with me. It carried me like a tidal wave. It crashed me upon the shore and swept me out again. Pain slammed me down again and again like a toy at the mercy of some great uncaring force of nature.

    It wouldn¡¯t turn off.

    The wall beneath me shook. Pigs squealed and the sound simply wouldn¡¯t stop. My eyes fluttered and cognitive thinking skittered sideways with more violence than the homeless puppet. Nonsense ideas came to mind. A fervent prayer that I¡¯d wake and be in the real world went with flashes of the car wreck.

    My friends. My asshole friends stared at me like they couldn¡¯t comprehend. Their drunken stupor outweighed any sensible concern or urgency to help. They¡¯d laughed in the same confused idiotic manner as the Ogre King.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, little smiling killer? Point bits not pointy enough?¡± He laughed like a dog attempting to speak.

    Post Note: I do not understand how I could hear him over my own screaming. In truth, during most fights I remained able to compartmentalize pain and do what needed to be done. Right then, in this moment, I could barely keep myself from passing out.

    Readers may wonder how it¡¯s possible to be in so much pain that they pass out. Especially when certain death stalks below. If they don¡¯t understand how this can happen, they¡¯re fortunate.

    ¡°I¡¯ll kill you!¡± My declaration came out wet and garbled. The tone probably conveyed my feelings. One of my eyes lost vision.

    ¡°Submit! I¡¯ll give you all the things to kill!¡± The Ogre King mocked me with his offer. He disregarded my obvious stance on the situation.

    I fumbled for an explosive rune. My body jerked violently instead of doing what I demanded. Every effort to force my will upon the broken flesh failed. My ears clicked off.

    Darkness swallowed the landscape. I felt only cold. My remaining fingers could be crushed to a pulp. Someone could be grabbing me right now. My body wanted to move. It might have. It might still be moving.

    The black engulfed landscape returned to normal. There were four dead ogres. Their bodies cleanly cleaved by an attack I hadn¡¯t been able to see during the bout of lightlessness.

    The Ogre King didn¡¯t wear a smile anymore. I completed a throwing motion. Nothing impressive happened.

    ¡°Not a good look for you. No it isn¡¯t. Come on, half-an-Adonis, we need to get far, far away from here.¡± The voice startled me.

    ¡°Shade?¡± Her full name I¡¯d never learned. It might be Charlotte. Coach Madison had complained about a Charlotte. My eyes were losing focus.

    We fell. The sudden shifting sensation pulled my neck and caused a fresh wave of pain. I wondered if she¡¯d gutted me once more. My mind drifted and fingers hopefully worked toward my stomach. I couldn¡¯t see straight or tell what I¡¯d been touching.

    Little Shade threw a large bottle at the far wall. It cracked and thick pink mist spread in the air. She hefted me away. I glanced behind us as the liquid she¡¯d thrown worked its magic. I retained enough awareness to watch in wonder.

    We were on the bottom floor. Pigs everywhere. Ogres ran in. Pigs ran away with disturbingly cheery oinks. The wall she¡¯d tossed her potion at was outright melting.

    ¡°Me gives!¡± an ogre shouted.

    The creature¡¯s large body came running around the corner and slammed into Little Shade¡¯s pink cloud. Two more ogres slammed into the wall along with the first. Their loincloth covered asses flopped from unholy attempts to mate with inanimate objects.

    ¡°Me gives it to it!¡± the third shouted.

    The first two roared. ¡°Take mine!¡± they said in unison.

    Post Note: If it sounds like they were arguing over who got to¡ªbreed the wall¡ªthen you¡¯re following correctly. I was missing parts of both legs, and an arm at this stage, but I couldn¡¯t have imagined that.

    A three-way fight ensued. Two more ogres showed up and the brawl grew out of hand. I vaguely registered that she¡¯d found a perfume lure which worked on these oversized monsters. I¡¯d tried that once. The ogres didn¡¯t care about normal perfumes and soaps like the regular mini-orcs. In fact, using perfume had simply lured in mini-orcs, who were then constricted by the ogres for reasons I hadn¡¯t figured out.

    Heavier footsteps shook the ground. The ogre brawl behind us paused their actions. I tensed. Little Shade glanced around then kept on going.

    ¡°Enough! You give nothing. I give everything!¡±

    The Ogre King eyed the wall. Little Shade continued dragging me away and around a corner. Thankfully, this meant the sight of an Ogre King beating the daylights out of his minions, before preparing to molest a wall, was un-viewed.

    ¡°They think with their little heads even more than you do. That they do,¡± Little Shade said happily.

    She carried me onward. I wanted to take advantage of being so close to her and finally see what hid under the hat casting darkness. Instead, I blacked out.

    I woke to darkness. My hand dove for the book. It didn¡¯t work. Without a pause I used my other hand and reached to the page for a summon spell and a resulting dagger. It took all of three breaths to get my blade ready and light the explosive rune with the same hand. My other arm hadn¡¯t healed yet.

    Little Shade sat ten feet away. We were in a bedroom that had been picked over. The mattress stolen or repurposed and the headboard was in splinters. A cord tightened around my neck. My eyes widened. The pressure felt tight and made breathing difficult.

    ¡°Manners manners, Mister Knife Ears. Init right to be pointing a blade at a girl. No it init. Why the last man to do so got a bit too close to my new toy. Went all bug-eyed when I stopped his breathing. And he was less scary then you with your black pig sticker.¡±

    I groaned weakly. The pressure at my neck increased. The hand with a dagger dropped down slowly in defeat. My explosive rune continued to glow red on my fingers. If this situation grew worse, I intended to blow anything dangerous to pieces.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Knife Ears?¡± I asked.

    Little Shade might be smiling. Her voice lifted and she snorted before answering. ¡°Checked your card? It¡¯s changed. Nicked it for a spell, read all about what you is and isn¡¯t. That I did. Not that there¡¯s a lot of words on them yet. You should see Midge¡¯s card. Filled to the brim with gibberish. I think she wrote most of it in herself.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s scary. Smiling. Even now, look at him. All grins and ready to kill,¡± a second voice said.

    ¡°Midge?¡± I asked.

    The pressure loosened a little as a tiny winged human no more than eight inches high floated into view. Her body glowed a soft yellow light that reminded me of Leon¡¯s abilities.

    Recap: Little Shade I¡¯ve described already. That is, I¡¯ve admitted knowing her and that she¡¯s about my age. Her actual features are hard to pick out with the hat she wears. Pale white skin, maybe a hint of freckles. Maybe eighteen but seems younger, I can¡¯t tell. I get the impression she¡¯d been a loner in life before the event, and maybe a street kid.

    Midge on the other hand, was a chatterbox of a flying faerie creature I could squish in my hand. She knew lots of secrets, but they were all ¡°little¡± whatever that means. She was also incredibly pushy.

    It was getting harder to think straight. Midge¡¯s tiny dress fluttered loosely. It¡¯d been made from who knew what and did nothing to hide miniature curves. I smiled, but not because I wanted to stab her, at least not with this dagger. Plus there was the mystery of what Little Shade felt like under that darkness. I wouldn¡¯t mind not being able to see her, if I could explore with my hands.

    My head shook in denial of the awkwardly budding thoughts. I needed to get out of this form. ¡°Can you let me go?¡±

    ¡°Probably best for us not to.¡±

    ¡°He could give his word. He has to honor it if he does. That¡¯s a rule. For him. For the game. Promises must be kept or else chaos. It¡¯ll be like it was before. Liars, traitors, and unhappy killers.¡±

    Midge had nothing in her hands. The material around my neck operated independently of Midge or Little Shade. It was likely a spell. It might be an enchanted object. I assumed that Little Shade had found another toy to go with her hat and whatever caused that murderous darkness of hers. Midge must have helped her.

    ¡°Promise? He has to promise. But not just say it. He has to mean it. What¡¯s the word for that? A promise that means more than life? A debt?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think there is a word for that. That there isn¡¯t,¡± Little Shade responded.

    Post Note: It¡¯s awkward to recount a conversation like this, and think of sex. It¡¯s really, really awkward to admit it. Perhaps it helps that this journal may never be read. It¡¯s not like I¡¯d been starved of female companionship. Callisto proved more than willing as long as there weren¡¯t missions to go on.

    Little Shade flipped her hand over and pointed at me. The upturned palm motion felt out of place for a girl her supposed age, but the hat made it work. ¡°So, promise not to stab us?¡±

    ¡°Or blow us up. Or drown us. Or bash us. Or, what¡¯s the word for putting someone in a blender and turning on the microwave?¡±

    ¡°Or those?¡± Little Shade added without missing a beat or responding to Midge.

    ¡°I promise not to hurt either of you, unless you ask for it, or wish to hurt me first.¡± The words popped out without so much as a second thought. That fact alone made me blink heavily. My mouth dried as I suddenly felt the need to find an escape.

    ¡°Don¡¯t like it,¡± Midge answered. ¡°What if he thinks we¡¯re trying to hurt him if we¡¯re trying to help? You bounced him all around. You did. With the jumping and running and screaming. Then those ogres. One of them got him. What if he thinks that you saving him was trying to hurt him?¡±

    I understood their stance, I really did. My body count had already gotten unreasonably high in the last month. The number of monsters I¡¯d felled on my own, not to mention those weird dungeon creatures, reached high enough to be a massacre in the old world. Here though, every creature killed only amounted to potential orbs. In that way, none of them were real.

    The willingness to stick a knife in someone should bother me. It didn¡¯t.

    ¡°There¡¯s no way we could get him to promise perfectly and never have loopholes. You said it yourself. Everything has a loophole¡ª¡± Little Shade¡¯s words were cut off as Midge flew into her face with both hands stretched out. The faerie disappeared into Little Shade¡¯s halo of darkness. The two girls scuffled, and Midge babbled at a high speed.

    ¡°Deal then, but I want don¡¯t want to be murdered by him. He¡¯s a crafted killer. Born and bred and made and paid,¡± Midge babbled.

    ¡°Deal,¡± I repeated. That felt final. The pressure at my neck loosened. My body felt weighed down but not uncomfortable. I drifted off for a moment, then reached up to grab my chest rune. It had to come off before I imagined them wrestling without clothes.

    Too late¡ªbut at least I managed to remove the spell form.

    The marking peeled off like a thick bandage. My body shuddered in a release of tension. The pain that had been distant traveled further away. Both girls squabbled about whatever secrets they¡¯d betrayed in speaking to me while I felt relaxation equal to the best hospital drugs. My arm itched but that stopped being important. My legs weren¡¯t responding but I couldn¡¯t be bothered to care.

    ¡°I¡¯ll heal from this,¡± I mumbled. My chest moved slowly up and down. ¡°This will pass.¡±

    I remembered sitting in my dad¡¯s house, at the front window, and staring outside as the dark clouds formed overhead. This felt much like that. Detached, without a sense of place in the world. My body healed while my mind bided its time. I¡¯d asked the short bearded man for an item to help me, and he¡¯d delivered.

    A changelings orb. Shape shifting spells. Healing from wounds. My body was no more than a vessel for my mind. These half-formed thoughts all tied together but didn¡¯t make perfect sense. I needed more capabilities than simply being sneaky and having bombs. I had twice as much money now. The debt card sat there, waiting to be used.

    My face twitched as ideas occurred to me. I¡¯ll write them down here.

    <ol>

    <li>Little Shade had apparently looked at my card again. She said the title changed.</li>

    <li>Midge might have a secret I wanted for money, such as a place to spend my ¡°bucks¡±.</li>

    <li>There had been no vending machines in that dungeon, and I had yet to find one around town.</li>

    <li>The Ogre King had absolutely thrashed me. The third time had not been a charm.</li>

    </ol>

    ¡°Look at him. He doesn¡¯t care,¡± Little Shade said at last. ¡°Lance ain¡¯t after your secrets. I told you, I did. Your little life tips don¡¯t mean anything to some people. Just like he doesn¡¯t care about me or the artifacts. It¡¯s why we can trust him. He doesn¡¯t pry. A man that don¡¯t pry is a rare thing, he is.¡±

    ¡°He cares,¡± Midge insisted. Her voice dipped and spiked to extremes that almost made me twitch. Euphoric sensations kept my lids heavy and thoughts foggy. I loved my abilities. Healing, from anything, drug addled mentality. Being foggy headed bothered me when there were things to be done, but right now I couldn¡¯t think of any.

    Post Note: This is, of course, stupid. There were things to be done. That included blowing up more buildings, meeting with the others, getting out to Crown State Park, finding the item Little Shade had told me would help us defeat the Ogre King, making sure Stella had proper food, and above all¡ªsurvival.

    ¡°Maybe that¡¯s not his kind of secret,¡± Midge the Tattletale said. ¡°Maybe he¡¯s collecting other kinds.¡±

    ¡°There are kinds?¡± Their speaking about me like I wasn¡¯t in the room made my teeth grind. My free hand came up and cupped my mouth. I took in slow thick lungfuls of air as Midge answered.

    ¡°One hundred bucks.¡± Her hand came out and she darted around, making sure to stay in my line of sight.

    Midge behaved exactly like last time. ¡°Come on. I smell your moneys. Give it. I¡¯ll give you a small secret. The kinds of secrets. If fits in a hand and a flower and a breadbox. But it won¡¯t fit in an eye. Nope. Secrets don¡¯t like eyes, that¡¯s why they hide. And a secret in a mouth isn¡¯t a secret for long.¡±

    I stared at Midge. She babbled on almost as much as Little Shade. The idea of being trapped in this room with both of them while my body healed sounded unappealing. Maybe I couldn¡¯t blow them up but take out the floor they stood on instead. Damage would be collateral at that stage.

    ¡°No deal,¡± I answered and pushed the destructive ideas away. My body needed time to heal and all this money would matter at some stage. I didn¡¯t want to waste it on ideas I could figure out without their help. Their artifacts, life tips, spells, were all items that could be learned through observation.

    Little Shade laughed loudly. Midge¡¯s wings deflated and she flew back to Little Shade¡¯s side.

    Despite denial of that trade, Midge probably did have valuable information. Little Shade clearly had grown in the time we¡¯d been separated. I didn¡¯t believe in luck and believed she had killed monsters and spent money on secrets from Midge.

    She¡¯d been hiding out in town. We had to be someplace safe. A clear streak of smeared blood ran from here to the closed door. Blood, in this world didn¡¯t mean anything special. Creatures killed each other all the time.

    ¡°Are we safe here?¡± I asked while reaching for the starlit knife.

    ¡°Until sunrise,¡± Little Shade said. Her halo bobbed as she, probably, shrugged. ¡°But safe houses ain¡¯t. Not for long. Plus that Ogre Grump is downright unhappy. Like you peed in his cereal and set his mom on fire. That¡¯s what he¡¯s acting like. He is.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s just ogres. Royals are mean. They care too much about their kind. Gain power from their followers. Like the Coach. His team gave him power. No team. No power. Too dangerous to anyone else. Be careful of royals. And spiders. Be really careful of spiders.¡±

    There were probably all sorts of useful tidbits embedded in their speech but I¡¯d grown exhausted. I needed food to replenish whatever this magic used to regrow limbs. By the time I had a whole body, I¡¯d have to head to a stash in the city and find a meal. I had caches all over, mostly in attics.

    But that brought up another point, one that Midge would be extremely helpful for. ¡°I have another question, and if you can answer, I will pay.¡±

    They both paused. Little Shade¡¯s lantern of darkness tilted. I found myself staring distractedly at the headgear. How it could cast such a perfect circle of darkness, similar to a lamp but in reverse, still perplexed me. That wouldn¡¯t be my question though.

    ¡°Where can I spend money on more spells?¡±

    ¡°Oh that¡¯s easy,¡± Little Shade said.

    Midge immediately rushed at her again, arms stretched outward to seal Little Shade¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°Nothing is free. One hundred bucks!¡± the faerie screamed.

    They tussled for a bit. I stared blankly and sighed.

    ¡°Deal,¡± I said.

 Book 2, Rule 6

    Rule 6

    Treasure Is Relative & Monsters Are Vendors?

    Statement: It should be noted that I¡¯ve been given lots of advice. One of the first bits had given to me by an inhuman stewardess. She¡¯d said cowards, the brave, and clever people all die in equal measure. They told me, instead, to be a little bit of each. Be a little wise. Be a little brave. Be a bit of a coward.

    There have been many different versions of this advice over the years, well before these changes. Each one speaks to the same universal truth. Fortune favors the bold. Know when to walk away. These sayings encapsulate what we¡¯ve always known; our choices walk a fine line between death and survival.

    The duo babbled at each other while my body healed. It took me the better part of a day to grow legs. This was notably faster than when I¡¯d lost my hand. Either having more money on my debt card, the orbs from killing monsters, or lots of practice getting hurt had increased my regenerative powers.

    I needed to test it to figure out what allowed me to heal quickly. If money, as measured by the debt card¡¯s text, impacted my regeneration, then spending it on a prize might be counterproductive.

    The others weren¡¯t at the rally point. I¡¯d succeeded in my main mission. Little Shade confirmed that Callisto and friends had left on a cart north. Of course, she hadn¡¯t bothered to talk to any of them or drop a note. So far, Little Shade only talked to me.

    Midge and Little Shade talked the entire trip to my safe house. A flock of morning birds made less noise. There were dozens in the forest park that Mayor Kent claimed ownership over. Each morning they babbled their secret language. I would have had a better time not understanding the girls. They spoke English, but they didn¡¯t. Perhaps women were the only unchanged aspect of this new world. They still made zero sense.

    I smiled as we reached the driveway to a small apartment complex.

    The apartments consisted of four narrow buildings with eight homes each. Thirty-two homes that held supplies. Supplies in this world still confused me. Canned goods had expiration dates but those were hard to use when no one had been sure of the exact date. I tested them. Either I healed from food poisoning before noticing it, or they were still good.

    Bars, bottles of water, bandages, and so on, were all stored in safe houses. Being sneaky meant no mini-orcs had noticed me gathering supplies. Putting them up high ensured no lesser creatures would be able to steal them. I checked weekly anyway. Roaming the city through all six supply locations took the better part of a day.

    ¡°You hid stuff here? This is a bad place to hide. Those gobbys are everywhere, poking into everything. That they do. Poke with their pokers, that is.¡± Little Shade¡¯s commentary shook me out of the memories. My legs were weak and barely held any weight. I¡¯d lost mass, leaving me at nearly a hundred pounds if I were to guess. Lance should weigh more than Hawthorn.

    ¡°They do not notice attics. They only see ground floor and where the stairs are. You can use the roof access, there.¡± I pointed at a hatch right under the slanted roof. The access went into a crawlspace with about six feet of overhead at the highest point. I¡¯d piled slats of supplies inside.

    ¡°All the way up there?¡± Little Shade sounded upset. She might not like heights. She¡¯d shown no signs of healing like I could, so maybe the fear of falling mattered.

    ¡°Correct. It is safer.¡± We¡¯d walked over three miles to get here. I wanted to sleep but pushed myself.

    ¡°How did you get up there without a ladder?¡±

    The grooves on the wall were obvious to me. They were spread far apart, too far for mini-orcs. I¡¯d gone up with a stolen pick in each hand, pulled up a few ropes, then used those to lift supplies. The summoned blades only lasted ten minutes and it had taken almost an hour to make the handholds. Mountain climbing might be easier.

    ¡°Daggers, time, and desire.¡± I shrugged weakly.

    Midge flew off toward the small square.

    ¡°You got goods up there?¡±

    ¡°Food. Water. I expected trouble and prepared. After last time. I set up places to¡­¡± ¡®Crawl away weakly¡¯ would be a pathetic finish to that sentence so I simply stopped talking. Little Shade had stabbed me. Healing had taken days.

    I don¡¯t like relying on other people. Having my hand missing had made me weak. Not as weak as now. Without Little Shade¡¯s help I would have died to the Ogre King. I¡¯d prepared enough to have safe points but not for crushing damage that would have outright killed me.

    Getting away the prior two times had blinded me to the possibility of irrevocable failure.

    Little Shade did not climb the wall to the roof. Instead, she marched up to the top set of apartments, picked the lock, and went inside. I followed after, much slower, and thankful for being gifted with stealth abilities. The stairs creaked. Mini-orcs prowled the neighborhood but didn¡¯t notice our travels.

    ¡°Come on! Get some pep in your step. Acting the wounded warrior coming home from battle you are. It init attractive. Not that you¡¯re a sight for any eyes like this. Those pants are falling off you and it looks like the wind might blow you down the street like a kite.¡±

    She¡¯d brought over a broken stool, stood on it, and started hacking away at the ceiling. Powder came down from the plaster. It went all over the minimally furnished apartment.

    I winced and went into a coughing fit. My fist weakly pounded on my chest to get junk out of my lungs. She ignored my plight and continued to carve. I flipped her off. Midge tittered and wagged her diminutive finger at me.

    Her knife sawed the drywall with ease. Little Shade continued until she¡¯d dug apart a good portion of the ceiling. I¡¯d never expected anyone to simply demolish the layer between here and the attic.

    It seemed like she should have run into boards or nails. I hadn¡¯t explored the makeup of houses too much during my time. I¡¯d only ransacked them for supplies. Little Shade clearly had done both. I made a mental note to figure out what construction went into the places where my goodies were hidden. Any number of monsters could have easily torn up the wall with time and a little effort.

    I drifted in and out of consciousness. Being Hawthorn had drained me. Being Lance sedated me. Regrowing body parts made it that much worse.

    A heavy bottle of water smacked me in the lap. ¡°Ow,¡± I said then coughed.

    Little Shade stuck her hand out from the unnatural darkness. I drifted and wondered why I could make out any of her shapes when the apartment had no lights. The reason hit me a moment later. One of my runes or gained abilities included darkness vision. Midge also cast a soft glow.

    This world frequently confused me. I couldn¡¯t easily reconcile being able to see in the dark, but not being able to pierce her shade. It couldn¡¯t be any different than me going into some stealth mode to people like Leon but noticing absolutely no change in myself.

    I ate food. The girls ransacked my stockpile and brought down nearly everything. The bandages were useless to me in terms of healing but I¡¯d imagined binding up an arm or creating a sling until the healing kicked in. The important parts were food and water which gave me material to replenish my body. A healing potion would have been better but I still hadn¡¯t found a vending machine to purchase one from. Plus those glass bottles were fragile.

    By the end of a few hours I¡¯d grown even more exasperated with their endless yammering. Little Shade and Midge disappeared, frequently, to explore the nearby buildings. They probably sought treasures or more artifacts. I¡¯d searched too, hoping to stumble across an item like her hat, but came up empty.

    ¡°You ready? Ready to go? To the place where I know a person who might have things. They collect all sorts of things to sell for moneys. You gave me moneys. You can give him moneys. Fairness for fareness.¡±

    I swallowed the remaining food bar and drank my bottle of water in a single breath, and said, ¡°Descriptive. A person. With things.¡±

    ¡°Very much so. But your words are too hard to use. Narrow. Straight. Not at all useful for getting around corners.¡±

    I ignored her nonsense and nodded.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    Little Shade stood at the bottom of the apartment stairs. I felt better going down than I had coming up. My legs were far thicker than they had been.

    We were weighed down with food and I found myself eating a fifth protein bar. Little Shade had stockpiled food herself and walked, oblivious of any dangers, while eating a package of dried noodles like a savage. Her teeth crunched loudly and it seemed likely that Little Shade chewed with her mouth open. The spices smelled delicious but if I were Hawthorn I¡¯d be thinking rather lewd thoughts about how to make that irritating chewing stop.

    I managed to put the flash of thought out of my mind and pulled my T-shirt out a little to see how my body was doing. My abs were filling in. Chest muscles had almost returned to normal.

    ¡°Where are we going?¡± I asked.

    ¡°The newspaper stand by the bus depot,¡± Little Shade answered while chewing.

    ¡°That is a strange location.¡±

    ¡°No, uh uh,¡± Midge cut off Little Shade. ¡°We not going to the depot. We¡¯re going to the pot. Des Pit. Despite the pot. For Mister Yuck Yuck. He¡¯s a collector of items.¡±

    ¡°And they¡¯re gross. That they are.¡±

    They were confusing. Midge had enough issues since she constantly babbled a stream of short sentences containing maybe half a nugget of useful information in them. Little Shade had clearly gone around the bend because she actually knew what Midge was talking about.

    Midge continued, ¡°He collects things other people throw away. But all the things he collects have power. Maybe you can use them with your artifact book of infinity mirrors to make a new face. Or a better leg. Ones you can¡¯t blow up. Or whatever it is you want to buy. But don¡¯t buy the same face twice. That¡¯s free advice.¡±

    Most of that went completely over my head. ¡°Okay.¡±

    Little Shade snorted and threw her wrapper onto the street. It joined all the other litter lying about. In a few weeks it would be matted to the ground by rain and covered with dirt. The action irritated me.

    She swallowed and moved a hand up toward her face. I assumed she was wiping away drool. ¡°When we see him, don¡¯t look in its eyes. In fact, it¡¯s best if you don¡¯t look at all. Just tell it what you want and Midge can read the price. She can.¡±

    That confused me. When I¡¯d first met Midge, she¡¯d been chained to a desk writing words. The words she wrote were in the same gibberish scrawl that everything in the world turned to.

    Post Note: It¡¯s the same nonsense this journal is turning into. If you can read this, you¡¯re doing better than I am¡ªso far. I¡¯ll learn, somehow.

    ¡°Why can she read it?¡±

    ¡°Midge don¡¯t think like us anymore. She hasn¡¯t since she¡­¡±

    ¡°Shut uuuup!¡± Midge shouted. ¡°You talk all the time. Just because your brain drips between your legs while he¡¯s here, wait, is there a word for that? When a human stops thinking with their brain and thinks with their reproductive organs and eyes but they ignore taste buds.¡± The faerie rambled on listing details of the word she wanted and moved onto, ¡°He probably tastes like sour lemon drops. Worse than fireballs.¡±

    Little Shade snarled. ¡°You shut your trap, or no more roses.¡±

    Midge shut up. Our path continued toward the bus depot. Before the collapse there had been a parking garage filled with city buses. It sat on the outskirts of town next to a sewage factory. Both places smelled foul and I expected there to be some twisted slime monsters in their depths. Still, Little Shade clearly found it safe enough.

    She also had a super move that cleaved ogres to pieces. I¡¯d seen it used twice now and both times left me in awe. One day I might catch up in terms of ability.

    Their silence continued for longer than I could ever expect. It was blissful. I didn¡¯t smile or frown or even groan. I simply enjoyed not thinking at all. It didn¡¯t help that my legs were close to giving out and my ribs still partially outlined due to emaciation. I¡¯d been healthy and whole almost two days ago.

    Two days was a lot of time in this apocalyptic fantasy world. Callisto and the others must be at Crown State Park by now. The women resumed chattering over my head as we got closer to the depot. I ignored them while trying to nail down all the different ways to catch up with my dungeon delving group. They¡¯d surely need all the help they could get to survive and return home safely.

    It wasn¡¯t that I cared if they survived. Their lives were simply useful. Keeping them around meant that Stella had more people to keep her safe.

    Eventually I wound back to the conversation they¡¯d been having before telling each other to shut up. ¡°It is the form.¡±

    ¡°What is the what?¡± Little Shade asked. ¡°You¡¯ve been quieter than a church mouse. Almost forgot you were with us, I did.¡±

    ¡°The reason you have a hard time thinking straight. It¡¯s my other body. It came from a woman whose skin was like the earth¡­¡± My words trailed off as I worked through exhaustion. Healing took a lot out of me on a normal day. Growing limbs this quickly left me in need of a nap. ¡°She swayed. I could almost taste her lips. They would have been like honeysuckles.¡± Soft, a hint of natural sugar, more than enough to take a second lick.

    Recalling my interaction with the sultry woman had my brain dizzy with need. It was sad since the only thing she¡¯d actually done was drunkenly scream and order her giant¡ªliterally¡ªhusband to kill me. That reminded me of other stuff she¡¯d yelled. I should have checked for their wedding rings. Based on her babbling, there had been magic in them.

    ¡°Sounds like a nymph to me. My daddy used to go on about them. He said nymphs were wild women hidden away in bars. He did. Said that a man might take one home at night. Then the next day poor man would wake up with a hangover and no wallet. Told him it was a lesson, I did. He agreed and went back the next weekend for another lesson, that he did.¡±

    She stood on one side of me. I blinked in confusion multiple times before nodding. I didn¡¯t know how to process any of the babble coming out of Little Shade¡¯s mouth. That might have been the first fact she shared about her life, but it still wasn¡¯t about her directly. I found it interesting that the young woman felt free to talk about anything except important stuff.

    Post Note: It¡¯s weird to think of her as a young woman. I hardly thought of myself as old. It was simply what we¡¯d done and been through. In a month my mind had aged. There¡¯s something about mental cynicism that makes everyone else seem na?ve and young. That is, of course, an illusion of the mind.

    ¡°Not a nymph. A dryad,¡± Midge said. Her voice dragged into a high-pitched squeak. ¡°Take a man¡¯s seed and make it into a forest. Old magic. Scary magic. Made of dreams and dirt and sunshine topped with sadness and want and moss. But mostly lots and lots of want. Wants to listen. Wants to do. Wants to be done.¡±

    Midge circled around us at high speeds. Her bright wings distracted me and I found my path veering to the side. She opened her mouth and asked, ¡°Is there a¡ª¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no word for all of those things at once,¡± Little Shade said before she could finish asking.

    ¡°You should invent one. Something with a kay sound. Kay¡¯s are strong letters. Not like eyes. They¡¯re squishy and slant if you put too much on them. It¡¯s sad.¡±

    I sighed heavily. Midge¡¯s nonsense aside, her description of the dryad sounded right. There had been a lot of overgrown plants in the woman¡¯s house. It had also been screwed up. Wanting, sadness, sunshine, dreams, and dirt sounded like a formula for craziness. Dryads, to the best of my limited knowledge, were not male. They were female. Implying the creature I transformed into might be similar but radically different.

    My thoughts didn¡¯t even touch on the fact that she¡¯d gone nearly insane with need because her husband couldn¡¯t get it up. It might happen to me if I wore Hawthorn for too long without some sort of release.

    Tomorrow, after healing more, I¡¯d fight monsters and drive all the nonsense these girls had been uttering straight from my head. Stabbing things always brought a simple clarity. If they weren¡¯t stab-able, blowing them up would also serve. I could find a bird and use the net to bring it down, then pluck it and roast it. That might work.

    No, any monster birds would turn into orbs. I wanted a warm meal. Stores were too often filled with monsters. There had to be an untouched home with a lantern sitting inside.

    ¡°Over here!¡± Midge yelled.

    I jerked my head up and studied the area we¡¯d wandered to.

    Mini-orcs were all over. They weren¡¯t moving and had dull gray coloring. I studied them for a few breaths before realizing they were statues.

    ¡°Don¡¯t look at him,¡± Little Shade said. ¡°No matter what happens don¡¯t look.¡±

    That made me want to look. Little Shade had all but put a red shiny button in front of me then labeled it ¡®don¡¯t push.¡¯ I pondered using explosive spells, mirrors, and other tricks.

    Midge shouted, ¡°Over here. Here. He¡¯s inside here.¡±

    We were on an asphalt sidewalk overgrown by grass. Cement had broken from vague outlines of deep footprints. Something large and heavy roamed these roads. I glanced at Little Shade for any sign on what to do next. She kept her gaze averted.

    ¡°Come on. You paid. I almost showed you. A deal¡¯s not done until I¡¯ve actually showed you. So. Over here.¡±

    She motioned me to a large building. Double doors framed the entryway and had fallen off their hinges. Moss lined the building¡¯s rounded edges. The afternoon sun made the doorway even more foreboding. I felt colder and grosser simply looking at the run-down sewage plant.

    Midge chattered the whole way inside. Little Shade stayed quiet and tiptoed along. We went around bends. I held a dagger in my hand, ready to stab anything that touched me wrong. Nothing came. The entire inside had the same eerie emptiness as the outside. The overgrown moss and damp muddy smells grew in intensity.

    Little Shade moved slower than I did. She hung behind me, letting Midge lead the way. For some reason, the flying faerie didn¡¯t care at all about this area but it clearly made Little Shade nervous. That bothered me.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to wait over here,¡± Little Shade said.

    I lifted an eyebrow. ¡°This is not a trap, is it?¡±

    I hoped she wouldn¡¯t be able to lie to me. The curse of truthfulness could be bent or simply ignored, but so far no one had lied that I could tell.

    ¡°No,¡± Little Shade said. And that was all she said. That also bothered me. This entire situation felt dangerous. We¡¯d walked into a place I hadn¡¯t had time to scout. There was no sign of the normal monsters. No rabbit chickens or pint-sized fantasy orcs. Only moss and foreboding silence.

    ¡°Come on!¡± Midge shouted. ¡°Oh you should turn around too. Twos. To the twos. Face away. Mister Yuck is bad for the eyes.¡±

    They had both warned me to face away. It didn¡¯t sit well with me. I pondered over our complicated past. We weren¡¯t exactly allies, but we weren¡¯t enemies either. Midge especially, she had been held captive by a gold chain the first time we¡¯d met. She was scared of me, because of the item I owned.

    I put one hand on the book and told myself there was no reason for Little Shade to rescue me from the Ogre King then get me killed here.

    So, I turned to face away from the door where Midge stood. Little Shade turned to the side but kept her fingers on the hat¡¯s brim.

    Post Note: Okay, there is the possibility she might have been sacrificing me. It might be the standing there in that spot opened a secret door and she¡¯d steal all the treasure. But, I¡¯d paid Midge¡ªand she seemed insistent upon the deal. Little Shade had given me the tip on how to kill the Ogre King, so she trusted me to an extent to use the weapon wisely¡ªassuming she wouldn¡¯t kill me with her ability.

    But, I needed more power. The stewardesses had told me to be a little bit foolish, wise, and brave. This certainly counted as all three¡ªand in doing so, <u>I found a way to survive</u>. Power, however, leads to more foolishness. A secret of mine that I¡¯m sharing.

    The door behind us opened and I felt a wave of terror like I haven¡¯t felt in months.

 Book 2, Rule 7

    Rule 7

    Deal Wisely & Run Like A Coward

    Statement: When facing monsters, there are three choices. Attack and eliminate. Run and survive. Or hope it doesn¡¯t notice the meal standing in front of it. For all my talk of being a sneak and ignored by creatures, there are a few that are simply too strong for me to hide from. When they see me, I know. I know with utter certainty that makes my legs quake. This¡ªwas the second creature to do so.

    It knew I was there. I knew it was there. I couldn¡¯t see ¡°it.¡± I did not dare turn around. Multiple warnings had been given against gazing at the being that surely crept behind us.

    I wanted to turn, throw a bomb at the monster, and flee until everyone in the universe forgot I existed. That I didn¡¯t, either labels me a fool or a brave man. Both were doomed to die. The stewardess had told me to add a dash of wisdom.

    ¡°Greetings,¡± I said. Addressing the presence behind me didn¡¯t feel wise, but a wise man would fake being in control. This¡ªin less dressy terms¡ªwas a bluff.

    Something popped. Like chewing gum. It continued to pop and the wave of despair loosened enough for my knees to stop wobbling. I glared at my legs and cursed them for being treacherous.

    ¡°He says hello,¡± Midge stated.

    I watched Little Shade. She kept her head facing the ground. Only the barest hint of her fingers stood out in the near darkness of our location. My knees decided to shake despite their earlier steadiness, but my mind counted the steps toward the exit.

    The walls on either side of me shook. Thick bubbling noises came from behind me. It sounded like thick soup being brought to a boil. A long dark line of dripping mush slammed into the wall near Little Shade. She jerked once then resumed her frozen posture, hand still on the hat¡¯s brim.

    ¡°Mister Yuck Yuck says he doesn¡¯t like your face,¡± Midge said. ¡°Says it¡¯s like somebody he used to know.¡±

    Mister Yuck Yuck must be the presence behind me. He¡¯d also been aggressive with that bit of material to my right. I eyed the long cord and watched as it fell from the wall and pulled back out of my sight. It reminded me of an octopus tentacle, but trailing thick rotten smelling slime.

    ¡°Okay.¡± His feelings on my face were immaterial unless it impacted prices. I could put on Hawthorn, but then my mind would be focused solely on finding a place to give Little Shade a tumble. The libido of my other form worsened around women.

    ¡°I told him you said that¡¯s normal. No one likes his face either. Then I insulted his mother for you. I¡¯m doing good, right, smiling killer?¡± Midge¡¯s voice stretched on and my heartbeat sped. One hand twitched as I pushed away the urge to use an explosive spell on someone¡¯s face.

    ¡°You are doing terrible.¡± I felt utterly certain Midge knew insults were bad. They wouldn¡¯t help bargaining.

    The person behind me bubbled.

    ¡°We¡¯re here to buy. Of course. I told you. I always tell you. These mortal wants gifts and will pay. They think items are more powerful than knowledge.¡±

    Mister Yuck Yuck, I assumed, bubbled and popped then gurgled like a fat drunk baby halfway to retching. My stomach twisted and I could taste the last few bars of food crawling their way back up. I swallowed and ignored the metallic taste.

    ¡°So, Mister Yuck Yuck will sell you goods. What do you want to buy?¡± Midge asked.

    ¡°Strength,¡± I said. ¡°Enough to fight the Ogre King. Enough to fight anything.¡±

    A single loud pop echoed from behind me.

    ¡°Ooooohhhhh,¡± Midge said. ¡°Okay.¡±

    Midge babbled.

    Mister Yuck Yuck¡¯s burbling must be talking. He popped and crackled and I kept an eye on the exit. My legs were stable. Little Shade hadn¡¯t faded away.

    ¡°He can give you a potion made of, oh. No he doesn¡¯t want to know what they¡¯re made of. Trust me. No one does,¡± Midge said happily. ¡°Smart shoppers don¡¯t ask what goes into their food. No they don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I do not want potions. They are limited.¡± Plus glass broke. I hadn¡¯t run into a single potion that lasted beyond the first one in that store. ¡°What else is there?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ll keep asking.¡± Midge spun in a lazy circle. I kept wanting to turn in her direction and get a better glimpse, but the faerie insisted on hovering at the edge of my vision. ¡°Yes. No. Yessssss.¡± Midge laughed. ¡°What? No. No. That¡¯s not helpful.¡±

    Midge chattered at the burbling monster that might be behind me. Truthfully, the creature could have had the vestige of a centerfold and I¡¯d never know. As for the fluttering faerie hovering to one side, her tone felt rude and condescending, but I couldn¡¯t tell who it was aimed at.

    Post Note: Dealing with Midge is a lot like dealing with a child. Be it her size, broken sentences, or spouting gibberish, something about her makes me give far too many second chances. Rest assured that if Callisto or Leon ever spoke to me like this, I¡¯d likely gut them. One of the benefits to this new world is that there are always monsters out there to assist in cathartic activity. But people I don¡¯t want to kill? They¡¯re in short supply.

    ¡°Mister Yuck Yuck says he has something that might work. Says it will cost you fifteen hundred bucks. That¡¯s a lot. You could buy fifteen secrets instead. I can tell you where to find a briar patch that can¡¯t be burnt or where to find moths that speak French. I also know the secret to licking your own elbow. It¡¯d be perfect for you.¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Mister Yuck Yuck burbled. At what, I couldn¡¯t tell. None of Midge¡¯s ideas sounded good. One of them was borderline offensive. I mean, no one wanted French speaking bugs.

    ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡± I asked. Every power here had a downside.

    Bubbling laughter came from behind me. It sounded like a pot of split pea soup popping repeatedly. The noise made me hungry for a Thanksgiving meal. Warm food was a luxury requiring fire and patience. Fire, despite my explosive rune, was harder to manage.

    Post Note: My mother, before she passed, made split pea soup for every holiday. Ham, thick spices, cooked for most of a day. The taste of it escapes me now, but I remember it being delicious. Those were better days. Gone now, gone far away. But I wonder, would she have exited the line like my brother? Would she have changed? Worse still, what would she think of who I¡¯ve become?

    I tried to remember what time of year it was then gave up. Thinking of food now wouldn¡¯t help. The situation at hand required a bit more seriousness than I¡¯d been giving it.

    ¡°I¡¯ll ask him! I¡¯ll ask. Keep your arms straight and stop giving me all those ovals. It¡¯s so rude.¡± Midge stretched out the last sentence like an indignant teenager. With a high-pitched voice. And faerie wings.

    I took in a deep breath and worried this might backfire. Fifteen hundred had been the result of a months¡¯ worth of monster murdering and dungeon running. It was entirely possible I¡¯d die in another month. Logic also indicated that I had no time to sort anymore of Midge¡¯s nonsense hints.

    ¡°He says there¡¯s no catch. I mean, besides wanting to eat you. But that¡¯s not a catch. You pay. He provides. Everyone is happy. Until the eating.¡±

    My gut sank. Midge hadn¡¯t lied yet, to my knowledge. Mister Yuck Yuck burbled like the indiscriminate eater type. I twitched toward the spell book again. The creature may suddenly attack but I held no fear of blowing us all to smithereens. I¡¯d done so with the Ogre King, I¡¯d do so with the burbling monster.

    Suddenly, part of me hoped it would attack. There had to be a boatload of treasures in the warehouse. If this went well, then in the future Mister Yuck Yuck might gather more items worth purchasing. Killing such a being now meant no possible rewards later. I balanced the two options for a few breaths then nodded.

    ¡°Deal. Fifteen hundred.¡± I¡¯d read the tale of the golden goose. It was perfectly sensible not to cut the monster open now. It also helped that I wasn¡¯t sure of winning.

    I pulled my card out of a pocket. The durable object showed no signs of being bent or wrinkled by wear or tear. It showed just enough money. I also noticed it said Lance in bold, and showed a new title, [Knife-Eared Exploder]. That mystery would be for another day. I held up my card over one shoulder and pinched the edges tight enough to whiten my fingers.

    ¡°Other hand!¡± Midge shouted. ¡°Hold it out! Unless, oh gross.¡±

    Before Midge¡¯s words could completely sink in, something thick settled over my neck. I tensed and pulled out the red explosive spell energy from between my book. The object remained loose and clinked like beer bottles smacking together. I saw the edge of a black slimy tendril pull back from sight.

    The merchant had placed a necklace over my head. There were dozens of teeth, big, flat, and clearly un-flossed. They reminded me of ogre molars. Every fifth tooth was a long sharp one that didn¡¯t belong to the ogres. It was too, canine, and pure white, to the point they were nearly see-through. I opted not to blow something fragile to pieces. I checked my card, and sure enough, it showed almost zero remaining bucks.

    My head bobbed. This had to be worth it. If not, that¡¯d be a lesson too. I closed my eyes briefly and wondered what kind of power a necklace full of teeth might give me.

    Midge clapped and said, ¡°Good! Deal¡¯s done. Now we run before he eats us.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± I asked, pulling focus back to the rest of the room.

    Little Shade had already vanished. I saw Midge¡¯s wings leave a streak of light as she ventured out of the room.

    I stared at the slime covered teeth in utter confusion. Then something behind me burbled. The walls shook. Tentacles of ick shot out and slammed into the wall. They crept along for the door.

    I ran. The explosive rune went toward a wall. One hand came up with a dagger ready hack anything that latched onto me. Those long blobs continued to creep steadily toward the doorway. They closed the gap while I sprinted at full speed.

    My leg had other plans. At the doorway, it snapped. The sudden pain sent me sliding into the half-closed exit. I closed my eyes for a second and wished away the pain. It numbed. By the time I¡¯d opened my eyes the large thick doors had almost fully been closed on my body.

    I turned. I saw it.

    I immediately felt sick and my vision blurred. My stomach twisted into knots as a smell, one I¡¯d never noticed before, wafted over me. Open sewer lines and three-week-old dead bodies couldn¡¯t complete with the stench.

    Mister Yuck Yuck was a giant burbling mass. Black puss sloughed off a darker core that was faintly humanoid. It froze. The doors stopped closing. Mister Yuck Yuck bubbled as goo poured forth from its body and plopped onto the ground.

    Our moment of peace ended. The creature reached out with two arms and large tentacles of ooze lifted on either side. Their ends wavered and twitched unsteadily.

    The explosive rune went off. Goo, I presumed to be from one of the prior tentacles which had been closing the door, splattered everywhere. Mister Yuck Yuck¡¯s body swayed. His newly formed arms lost cohesion.

    Post Note: I mean everywhere. I found goo in my hair. In my pants. Under an armpit. I¡¯d been slimed by an ooze monster that lived in a sewer plant. Never mind the necklace of teeth.

    I crawled out of the room. My leg refused to work but the pain stayed distant. At a corner, I got up and hobbled. The doors behind me ground and sloshing sounds could be heard. Another explosive rune went onto a wall at waist level.

    Five seconds later, it went boom. I giggled and winced in pain. My leg hurt more with each step. Apparently my mental power to turn off agony only stretched so far. Alternatively, using other powers such as my explosives might be diminishing the numbness.

    My thoughts drifted for a moment.

    ¡°Come on!¡± Midge shouted. ¡°Hey! Hey! Listen, dammit.¡±

    I waved an arm and faded out briefly as the third rune took energy from me. Each time the spell went off I felt a sucking sensation that pulled down to my fingertips, but it was worse right now. The rune glowed brightly as it etched out the familiar pattern into the nearby wall. I slid my fingers over the edges and felt momentarily confused by an illusionary depth to the pattern.

    ¡°I said come on. This way. Before Mister Yuck Yuck eats your face,¡± Midge shouted.

    There were only two of us. ¡°Where¡¯s Little Shade?¡± I asked. She might have an ability to get us out quicker.

    ¡°She¡¯s smarter than you. She ran!¡±

    I followed Midge. My other hand used the wall to hold me up. She darted ahead, screaming urgently. I slowed to put down new traps. Spells exploded behind me as fast as I set them. Our merchant of gross hadn¡¯t given up.

    We reached daylight. Shaded, dark, and still cold, but I could see the last drops of sunlight playing on the overgrown sidewalk a dozen yards away. I limped a few more steps. Midge floated at the doorway and waved to something behind me.

    ¡°Nice dealing with you!¡± she shouted.

    I slowed down and turned. My leg almost gave way. There, at the doorway to this processing center, was a single oozing limb. It waved at Midge. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was a happy wave, a taunting one, or even rude.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be back next month!¡± Midge waved.

    The limb snaked back in, making sure to close the building¡¯s door behind it. I held still and attempted to process everything that had happened. We¡¯d gone into that open sewage location, made a deal with a slime monster, and engaged in a deadly game of chase. Midge, apparently, felt no fear and was willing to go back.

    Life had truly been strange since the event. I put it out of my mind in an effort not to go madder.

    ¡°That was Mister Yuck Yuck?¡± I asked.

    Midge nodded, smiled, frowned, and nodded again. She couldn¡¯t seem to make up her mind about the creature. ¡°He¡¯s a friend. Or an enemy. Or a slave. Whatever those together mean in English.¡±

    I¡¯d made up my own mind. Only desperation would drive me back into that creature¡¯s den; or a bigger explosive spells. I wouldn¡¯t dare until my spell book had been filled to the brim. If I killed it right now and ended up with an icky spell that turned me into a slime man, I could never look at Stella again.

 Book 2, Rule 8

    Rule 8

    Expect Betrayal & Grow Better Awareness

    Statement: Truthfully, I¡¯ve come to expect being backstabbed¡ªand not because people have treated me wrong. Oddly, everyone I¡¯ve talked to has their own agenda, but they seem content to live and let live on a long-term scale.

    To anyone paying attention, it¡¯s clear why no one outright kills me during my sleep¡ªand it¡¯s not my meticulous preparation and stealth abilities. Callisto, Leon, and Allegra could work together to find me, endure an explosion rune, then gut me in my sleep. They have not¡ªbecause I¡¯m more useful alive.

    We walked. Technically, I limped until I found a stick, likely discarded by some dead mini-orc. Then I hobbled. Midge simply flew. I envied her having wings but wouldn¡¯t take them if it required being so small.

    She headed off toward destinations unknown. I followed because there was safety in numbers. I couldn¡¯t do much else until my leg healed a bit more. Two bars were left in my pockets. The rest of my food had been, touched wrong. I somehow managed to juggle the bar, my walking stick, and talking to Midge.

    ¡°Why did it even bargain with us?¡± I asked. She might be in the mood to answer questions. Midge talked a lot. It made up for my exhausted and vacant thoughts.

    Post Note: Come to think of it, my speech has been succinct¡ªmost of the time¡ªsince the accident. I answered questions without problem, but rarely volunteered anything. I used to believe it was the drugs, but now?

    ¡°Mister Yuck Yuck?¡± Midge asked.

    I nodded. The fact that she had to check made my mind click off for a moment.

    ¡°He wanted to have cake and eat it too. Yes. But the cake is a lie. Plus I named it. Little Shade is smart, but not too smart. She let you give her a name. That¡¯s dangerous. She owes you. You own her. The Little Shade part anyway.¡±

    In a single breath Midge had answered me, wandered off topic and into another interesting land.

    ¡°Names have power,¡± I said. It must have been true, because I couldn¡¯t speak a lie.

    This part of town had more flatland than the rest of my home. There were less hiding spots. Most of the trees were short but shrubs had overgrown the sidewalk. I walked freely down the middle of the street. The only danger here would be a patrol of ogres or the latest hydra incarnation.

    ¡°That they do. Like Mister Yuck Yuck.¡± And we were back on topic again. ¡°I call him that because he¡¯s always laughing. And because he¡¯s gross. It¡¯s double yuck. I call him that and it gives me power. But only a little. It¡¯s why we could trade. But then he wants to eat us. You see? The first Adamschild gained power by naming. It¡¯s a rule.¡±

    I nodded. I did not see. Not entirely. I thought back to all those years of Bible study my brother had been involved in. He¡¯d told me something along those same lines. Adam named all the creatures in God¡¯s garden. Which, was weird, since those stewardesses had called us all Adamschild.

    Then it hit me. It suddenly made sense. Or at least this one aspect. A dozen other thoughts and ideas started to slide into place. I¡¯d buried them for the last month in an effort to simply exist but it was hard to ignore the implications now.

    Post Note: I could expound on the ideas that hit me in this moment. It would take me pages and pages¡ªthen I¡¯d run out of ink. I shall confirm one thing, but the rest is unverified. Adamschild referred to humans who were born of the ¡°first¡± man (though on that, I¡¯m still unsure). This is perhaps the strangest way to have any theological point verified.

    Midge distracted me with her ramblings, ¡°It¡¯s why when you¡¯re the other you, you laugh and poke things. Ha rose thorn. Hawthorn. Get it? It¡¯s funny and true and pointed. Beautiful to look at. Dangerous to pluck. Plucky pucky pointy porker poker.¡± Midge giggled.

    Midge spoke in circles. Or flew in circles while speaking. It was hard to separate the two ideas sometimes. I replayed the details of our three brief interactions. The first time, she¡¯d asked for roses to speak secrets about me and the artifact I¡¯d bought. It made little sense that she accepted a simple rose in place of one hundred dollars.

    ¡°Why roses?¡± She¡¯d brought them up first by implying my name meant thorns, like those on a bush.

    ¡°Why stab monsters?¡± Midge retorted.

    That set me back. I stabbed monsters to survive. Killing them also gave me money, more power, and ensured that there were less creatures to threaten Stella. Killing monsters served multiple purposes.

    ¡°Are you saying that you enjoy roses?¡±

    ¡°One hundred bucks.¡± Midge put out a hand and spun around lazily. She clearly didn¡¯t expect me to pay or she¡¯d be in my face pestering me until I let go of the topic.

    I shook my head. ¡°No deal.¡±

    ¡°Then a secret for a secret. My story for yours.¡±

    I stared at the sky. The sight made me dizzy. I¡¯d looked up so many times but never noticed more than if there were clouds in the sky or rain. Most days I could barely lift my head to gaze at a roof. But today, was oddly peaceful.

    Post Note: Once we got done running for our lives, I guess.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. If I tell you, I¡¯ll have one less secret of my own. But if I tell you, it might help me. The world is strange, yeah? Secrets want to get out, but we hide them away.¡± Midge flew but cupped her hands toward her chest. ¡°Hide them as if they¡¯re made of purist gold and air and fragile hearts all at once. We need them to live but want to share. Look at my secret. Look at my fragile air heart.¡±

    The faerie made me uncomfortable. I would have rather had the silent bell ringing type than this chatty little girl. But then I¡¯d be alone with my thoughts in the middle of nowhere. I didn¡¯t know where we headed. That bothered me. My stomach felt heavy with the latest batch of food. My leg itched and I wanted new pants.

    ¡°Then we give them away. Give and give until those secrets mean nothing, are nothing, and we¡¯re left hollow. Then we need more than we gave away to fill the void. A mind is made of want. Maiden want.¡± She put out her hands and they held nothing. I¡¯d almost expected a small spark of light or magic.

    ¡°I once gave a lady a flower. She gave me a rose and said to eat it. That I¡¯d be pretty and filled to bursting with my little secrets. That was there. This is here.¡± Tiny shoulders shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not who I was any more than you are who you were. We¡¯re changed. We¡¯re all changed. We¡¯re all changing. Changing changed changlings.¡±

    She clamped both hands over her mouth as if she¡¯d said too much and flew off.

    I glanced at the sky once more and searched for the nuggets of useful information inside of Midge¡¯s rambling. There were plenty, to be sure, but they left me with only more questions. Everything Midge said left me with more questions and the better answer seemed to be ignoring them. I had more tangible goals such as killing monsters and gaining power.

    Post Note: For those who didn¡¯t read my first journal, let me recap briefly. There are signs of what¡¯s to come. Portents. Hints throughout my journey. Most, I don¡¯t understand yet¡ªbut they feel important enough to share. Midge gives most of them. (A side effect of The Tattletale name? <u>Did Little Shade name her?</u> Did Coach Madison call her Pix for the same reason? Is it because she¡¯s too small to keep big secrets?

    In a twisted way, this all fits perfectly with this world¡¯s logic. However, if I admit the fantastical is an option, then so is a more mundane answer. I could be in a padded cell on drugs going on the wildest adventure of my life. Or catatonic in a hospital room. Those are more likely.

    It¡¯d only been a few blocks since the sewage plant. The smell of damp and mildew hung in the air. I limped toward where Midge had flown.

    Little Shade and her cone of darkness stood near the edge of a relatively intact building. ¡°Come on! We¡¯ve got to get you somewhere safe before dark.¡±

    No obvious threats were on the street. I searched for signs of chicken rabbits and mini-orcs but came up empty. This place had been picked clean of any possible threats. I lifted an eyebrow.

    ¡°Mister Yuck Yuck comes out at night and eats anything roaming the streets. Like a homeless man searching for cans, he is. Plus, wouldn¡¯t you rather spend the night somewhere warm?¡± Little Shade waved me forward. ¡°Maybe with some company? Lance?¡±

    ¡°Maybe farther away,¡± I said. Having company would be nice, but since I wasn¡¯t Hawthorn, there was no compulsive need. I only had her arms to judge by, but Little Shade seemed friendly and well built.

    ¡°Oh, for sure. Farther and farther away. These places init worth the trouble most days. Better goods to be had scavenging the dead, there is. Or was, most places are picked over by now. Harder to find prizes not guarded by monsters.¡±

    With that, Little Shade led us onward. The women \almost ran. Midge¡¯s legs moved exactly like a person on a fast treadmill. It struck me as weird because she could fly. Little Shade might be doing the same but her shroud blocked nearly everything except for the tips of bare feet.

    They didn¡¯t stop until we stood in the doorway of yet another abandoned home. A lantern danced on a coffee table inside. I stared at the flickering flame while Little Shade picked the lock.

    Post Note: If this seems weird, then here are some details. Many houses in this world are still locked. Their windows may be smashed, and yards are often an unruly mess, but the doors are still locked. The more powerful monsters are in key locations. Birds on the former high-rise. Hydras running down main street because it¡¯s wide open. Ogres taking over downtown. But there are simply too many small pockets of residential housing. In these places, mini-orcs are the most prolific, and mini-orcs can¡¯t pick locks¡ªthat I¡¯ve seen.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    Shed led us inside. I hobbled to a beat-up recliner and lowered myself onto the cushion. Stiff material pushed back, providing me a comfortable resting place. It¡¯d been untouched for a long time.

    Little Shade closed the door. She slid the blinds down and left the lantern on the table. I didn¡¯t know if that meant something.

    ¡°You still going to Crown State?¡± Little Shade asked.

    I stared at her. Going there had been her suggestion. I wondered, briefly, if the entire mission was an elaborate ruse to get us all away from the encampment where Mayor Kent housed himself. That might be possible.

    ¡°I have to. There is no other way to kill the Ogre King,¡± I said. ¡°At least, according to what you told me.¡±

    He¡¯d grabbed me out of the air. Like a child snatching a grasshopper. I adjusted my clothes uneasily and wondered how often I¡¯d come inches from death. Or how often I¡¯d need new clothes. These weren¡¯t even the same pants as before. Little Shade had repurposed materials from the house we were in. Most days, finding replacement wear was easy. Finding belts, was not.

    ¡°It¡¯s true. The world¡¯s changed and places like that, have power. You¡¯ve seen the big boss. He¡¯s lording over all the others. Not because he started special, but because he found something special. He did. Found the picture in a guide book. Saw the power init. Same guide book had the park. Picture of an eagle plucking out a fish.¡±

    ¡°That could mean anything,¡± I said.

    ¡°No. It¡¯s alle. Allego. Gorical.¡±

    ¡°Allegory.¡±

    ¡°Whatever. Everything here means something close to what it seems to be. You saw Mister Yuck Yuck. He looks like walking sewage. Smells like it. Lives in it. His nature and location, and probably what he was in the other world, all tied together.¡±

    Post Note: I heard it. I heard it and it didn¡¯t quite click right. If I simply explain it, it won¡¯t be worth as much. But if you¡¯re alive out there still, take note¡ªand pay attention.

    ¡°Them dungeons you and your friends are always going into. They have monsters, but those monsters are kind of like what you¡¯d expect to see, right? Bet if we went to a zoo we¡¯d find lions and tigers and bears.¡± She snorted. ¡°There¡¯s magic in the world, and it¡¯s taking from our imaginations. It is.¡±

    That would be useful information, if we could use our current minds to shape the world to something friendlier. I assumed the only way to do so now, post change, would be to use the gifts we¡¯d bought toward the end. This wasn¡¯t a world we could simply scream at and it would change.

    Midge sat near the lantern, fluttering her wings. Little Shade ransacked the kitchen for food. I stayed in the front room and thought about what they had said.

    Little Shade had talked to me once before about a secret weapon in Crown State Park. That¡¯s what started this entire fool¡¯s errand. I squinted as details stopped adding up. First she helped me. Then she stabbed me. Then Little Shade found me and dropped her grand get safe quick scheme, after threatening to gut me again. Truthfully, I wasn¡¯t much better with people either. Where I managed to suppress the impulse to blow my companions up, she might be unable to fight off the little voice. Predisposition to violence prior to this world, or knowledge that I healed easily could serve as extra reasons to stab me.

    I didn¡¯t know for sure. The puzzle of her motivations and drives kept me entertained.

    She walked through with a sandwich. The remaining bologna was tossed at me. I opened the container, sniffed, and decided it had somehow been preserved. Magic made the world bizarre. Little Shade wandered into the bedrooms and banged around boxes.

    ¡°Did you get what you needed?¡± Little Shade asked.

    I stared at the necklace and sighed. When I¡¯d touched the lantern and ¡°learned¡± my first spell, it had simply collapsed into red orbs. The second spell had come from the dead ¡°dryad.¡± This one might not become a spell. Maybe the necklace needed a trigger word, or I had to replace my own teeth.

    That sounded abysmally gross. I¡¯d wallow in the blood of my enemies and be bathed in pig guts, but never try to replace my own teeth. Besides, some of them were sharp enough already.

    Recap: I¡¯d briefly mentioned this in the last journal. As Lance, some of my teeth seemed to be falling out and were replaced by sharper teeth. The change was easy enough to disguise from others until I smiled¡ªwhich, as Lance, I rarely did. Hawthorn though, Ha-Rose-Thorn, has his own rules.

    ¡°So, no? Yes? No. Maybe so. Engine, engine number nine, running down Chicago line.¡± Little Shade started humming. Midge joined as her wings beat in time with the tune.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I have to figure out how to use it.¡±

    ¡°Try eating them. They¡¯re teeth. You eat teeth,¡± Midge offered from the table. ¡°But they¡¯re not teeth anymore, are they?¡±

    That sounded gross, and utterly wrong. I would have done it if the teeth gave me power. I grabbed the necklace and had another thought entirely. The short biker craftsman had shoved items into my book. It might be that simple.

    I set my book down on a nightstand to my right. The useless lamp sitting there was shoved off to a side. My back hurt and legs ached as I leaned over. I spared only a moment of wonder for the fact that my spell book had stayed with me. It could be attributed to the blood covered crutch which had been shoved into it during the making.

    Post Note: To sum up in a word¡ª¡°magic¡±¡ªmost of the strange events of this world fit under that umbrella. This is annoying because I have to continue learning nonsensical rules in order to survive.

    ¡°Not going to eat them? Shame. Ladies like a man who¡¯s willing to get his face dirty. Specially now. Well, that reminds me.¡± Little Shade wandered off again into another room. I stared for a moment and wondered what, exactly, it might remind her of but heard the tub faucets turning.

    She started the bath. I found it strange plumbing in these old houses still worked. Their tanks would have water in them still if no one had used the house since we¡¯d left, but it would soon run out. I could use a wash myself. It¡¯d been¡ªdays¡ªsince I¡¯d touched myself with anything cleansing.

    Life in the new world came with grime. Not Mister Yuck Yuck level, but certainly far above those days gone by. I¡¯d take a bath as well, but after Little Shade. As Lance, I worked to maintain a certain level of politeness. Or maybe it was simply not wanting to get entangled with her. Little Shade was the closest thing I had to a friend, despite the twisted the idea.

    I opened the book. On page one, red lights shimmered and rolled around under a reflective surface. It was like looking at a mirror with fireflies blinking and buzzing. Page two had the Hawthorn spell, brown, likely representing the skin ¡°dryads¡± might all share. Page three had the black lights. They were harder to see. I used that spell to store and summon pre-set items.

    Page four remained blank. Down went the necklace of teeth. It shimmered, and the book quaked, shaking the end table. I grit my teeth and frowned. That had never happened before. After a few breaths, the book and necklace remained unchanged.

    My lips tightened. The remaining meat in my hands was nearly finished and almost forgotten. Midge sighed heavily and stared into the distance. Her eyes unfocused and barely discernible due to the lantern¡¯s light. None of my surroundings helped clear up the current mystery.

    Post Note: That mystery being, how could I get this expensive item to work for me as a spell of any sort.

    I studied the teeth. It helped me ignore the sounds coming from the bathroom. Little Shade either really enjoyed getting clean, or really enjoyed getting clean.

    Mister Yuck Yuck had probably scavenged these teeth from deceased monsters. The flat ones looked like ogre teeth. It made sense, because ogres had patrolled all over the area in packs. They wandered down the main roads in groups of five or six. If they had run into the hydra, the ogres would lose. Then there may be orbs, there may not be. The hydra seemed to have a chance of leaving behind carcasses instead of turning monsters into orbs.

    The sharp ones were not ogre teeth. One of the stranger traits they had was a mouth full of molars. They didn¡¯t have incisors or anything else. Therefore, the sharper teeth with different colorings, were not from ogres.

    They weren¡¯t from the birds, or the mini-orcs because their sharp teeth curved into tusks. They weren¡¯t any of the creatures I¡¯d fought in dungeons or found while patrolling. But, studying dead monsters often proved difficult since they turned into orbs.

    I¡¯d had a hard time finding actual dead bodies outside of monster lairs like the hydra. I paused my study of the necklace and wondered if that was due to Mister Yuck Yuck picking the streets clean over the last year.

    Post Note: This, like everything else, spawned a host of additional questions. How had I never encountered him before? Likely answers included, ¡°I had never gone into the sewers¡± ¡°I hadn¡¯t been to this specific part of town¡± ¡°luck¡± or ¡°he only goes out occasionally.¡±

    The teeth were nothing special. The cord binding them could have come off hiking shoes. There were signs of wear and tear. Each tooth had a nail-sized hole in it, but they¡¯d taken care to ensure none of the enamel or plaque had been damaged.

    I couldn¡¯t feel anything from either object. This led me to believe I¡¯d paid all that money for a broken item.

    Of course, the mirror, orb, and book had been broken too before the store keeper shoved them together. The book had actually been gutted of every single page, because some other twitchy man bought only the pages and not the binding.

    My options and patience were limited. The pain in my legs still lingered. I reminded myself of the first secret I¡¯d been told. Be brave, be wise, be a coward. Those things contradicted each other.

    I broke the cord holding the teeth together. The necklace turned into green orbs and slowly faded into the book.

    ¡°Figured it out?¡± Little Shade asked from the other end of the cozy front room.

    ¡°It seems I have,¡± I said while looking up.

    The sight made me pause. Little Shade stood with only a towel wrapped around her waist. It did nothing to hide her curves or wet red hair. She had a second towel around her hair and seemed to be patting it to dry.

    ¡°Uhh,¡± I said and blinked slowly. I¡¯d been stupefied that I¡¯d forgotten to reach for any spells. Instead, I simply stared and felt my face flush.

    Little Shade had pale skin. Whiter than a ghost. Freckles all over, starting at her cheeks and traveling over long arms. She¡¯d either taken time to shave or had naturally light hair. I simply had no clue what to make of the sudden change in our relationship.

    ¡°You forgot your hat.¡± My mind felt numb. The sight of a woman wearing only a towel overloaded me.

    ¡°Wanted someone to see me for me, yeah? Figured I¡¯d give you something to remember me by. Like they used to send knights off to battle with a hanky or a kiss for luck. I¡¯m a modern girl. Figured a bit of eye candy might suit your tastes more, Sir Lance.¡±

    I nodded. That sort of made sense. Once we were done here and I healed, I¡¯d rush to catch up with the others.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t want you to get distracted by your metal girl. I figure you¡¯ll run off to catch up with them. If you run fast enough you¡¯ll get there and help them, right? And I¡¯ll stay here and keep an eye on your wee one. But if you ever need another hand in the dark, let me know. I¡¯m not just a little girl, or a lamp shade. That I¡¯m not.¡±

    Little Shade had successfully made me mute. Her body had muscle definition and a small chest, but she had a dirty mouth. Callisto had even more muscle definition and more chest but had been reserved. None of it deterred me. I swallowed.

    ¡°I figured what better time. A nice bath like that. Could have joined me. Would have had a better time. Getting all dirty then clean, and dirty again. Shame, it is.¡±

    ¡°Still could,¡± I said. Hawthorn would have been smoother in his delivery. Lance hadn¡¯t touched a girl since before the accident. No, those were both me. I was familiar with how to handle a willing woman. The hesitation in my mind had more to do with seeing her remove the disguise.

    There was an uncaring vulnerability to it that she might not even know. Seeing her without the hat implied trust, or a new angle to some power game I hadn¡¯t known we were playing. She couldn¡¯t possibly be after the necklace, I used it already. She couldn¡¯t be after the spell book, it was bound to me.

    ¡°Oh, no. You played with your toys while I played with mine. You go to the woods. We¡¯ll stay here. There¡¯s spiders there and spiders are icky. That they are.¡± Little Shade shuddered.

    ¡°Be really careful of spiders,¡± I repeated. Midge said the exact same recently. Maybe this was the warning. I imagined arachnids were enemies to anything with gossamer wings. I felt better, finding a topic to glom onto besides Little Shade¡¯s towel clad status.

    ¡°Yep!¡± Midge chirped. Then something behind me clicked and the world blurred.

    I spun as I fell. My hand brushed across the spell book, gathering red energy automatically. Muscle spasms prevented me from forming the right gesture. I stared at the blurry vision.

    Midge held a glove larger than her entire body, wings and all. I vaguely recognized it as one of Toymaker¡¯s zapping weapons. She brought it down again and my body arced in pain.

    They¡¯d set me up to be distracted, then zapped. By the time the murky realization finished attempting to register, the women were gone. I sat up slowly and stared at the now empty room.

    At least I¡¯d gotten a new spell out of it.

 Book 2, Rule 9

    Statement: I have been a coward before. Coach Madison, called Coach Big Balls by a certain mouthy female, had wanted to fight me to the death. He¡¯d screamed obscenities and for me to come out of hiding. I did not, and simply left. This likely saved my life. It serves as further proof that these secrets people speak of, do have an impact. While I don¡¯t perfectly recount every stray thought I¡¯ve had upon these past bits of advice, know that they shape everything I¡¯ve done.

    I took a mental inventory of the last few days. None of it was extremely good. My few gains had been offset by losses. It took me a few minutes to get myself upright and figure out what action to take next, besides running to Crown State Park, which would take me weeks without the donkey and cart.

    Positives were as follows:

    New spell of unknown abilities

    Little Shade implied assistance keeping Stella safe

    Redheaded style eye candy

    Having stashes around town proved worthwhile

    Wet, freshly showered, insanely attractive eye candy

    Negatives were as follows:

    My party had ventured off, probably assuming my death through Allegra

    I had no money on my card to buy anything

    Excessive damage that took time to recover from

    Supplies were low

    Little Shade & Midge had no problems hurting me to make a clean break

    There were a few options on what to do immediately. Above all was the new spell. I spent two hours figuring out what formation to put my fingers into and practicing until it became second nature.

    The newest spell functioned almost the same as Hawthorn¡¯s body. I placed the five points onto my chest and felt myself change. This didn¡¯t come with euphoria and pants-tightening lust. Instead, my arms swelled to outrageous proportions. My legs bulked, and height stretched upward.

    The air was thick. I could smell scents that weren¡¯t there before. I snorted and felt the urge to smash the flimsy and useless lamp still sitting on the table¡¯s edge.

    ¡°That is most foul,¡± I said dryly while plugging my nose.

    My hand was huge. The rumbling and oddly well-mannered voice freaked me out. I fell back in fright of being punched in the face by my own meaty fist. My rear hit the floor.

    It took me a moment to calm down. I half expected Midge to show up out of nowhere, tell me that Little Shade had forgotten her panties, and hit me again with an electric shock. She didn¡¯t, and I managed to relax.

    Wearing a new body had been easier with Hawthorn. He had the same height as regular me but a narrower build. This form stretched and bulked. Each movement felt like a dozen more muscles activated and swung in unison. I wondered how strong I¡¯d become.

    I intended to say, ¡°This works¡± but instead said, ¡°This is indeed what I had asked for¡± in a deep rumbling voice. It sounded professional. The tone reminded me of my old principal, a man whose pep rally speeches felt out of place. He¡¯d belonged in a library instead of the basketball court.

    It did not connect well with the mass of muscles making up my current form. My mental inventory came up short. There were too many issues to explore. The best answer was to take a bath and simply avoid thinking about anything too awkward.

    I went into the bathroom. The water had drained but a dozen bottles were open. Their scents filled the previously closed space and spilled out into the front room. With my new sense of smell the fruity fragrances were even more intense.

    Post Note: I will¡­ gloss over the next bit. Here are the details any reader can use to string together the remaining details. First, shampoos apparently worked on this new form, in a similar fashion to how mini-orcs were affected by perfumes. Second, Little Shade had left me with enough mental fuel for days. Third, this new form came equipped with a ¡°jawbreaker.¡± Fourth, and this is perhaps the worst, I could smell Little Shade¡¯s prior activities in the room. She had gotten clean, dirty, then clean again.

    After a few repeat performances, I¡¯d managed to peel off the rune, and returned to being Lance. I commenced with a shower and washed away the evidence with what little bath water remained in the tank. I left the bathroom feeling euphoric and disappointed that I¡¯d broken the sink in my¡­ urgency.

    It was for the best that I hadn¡¯t tried that spell sooner. Being Hawthorn was bad enough. Being a giant muscle-bound brute and losing all sense of reason in a lust hazed frenzy would be difficult. I wondered why these forms were so hung up on sex, and realized there were too many reasons to account for.

    Post Note: Here are two that come to mind. First, these faerie tale creatures seem far more primal. Secondly, humans may be far more ¡°hung-up¡±¡ªor repressed. This is perhaps the dividing line between man and beast, or man and myth.

    The bathroom was sealed up. The perfume smell faded slowly. I ate more food and rested on the unsullied couch, not willing to try out my new spell until those dangerous scents had completely settled. Sleep claimed me almost instantly.

    I woke to a banging noise. A white light pierced through the crack in drawn curtains. The lantern¡¯s flame danced indifferently upon the desk. I crawled to a safe spot between the couches and readied my spells for combat.

    The window thumped again. I lifted an arm and prepared to toss the explosive rune at the first creature to come through. Nothing came. The silence stretched on until I became drowsy once more. I planted the rune on the floor in front of me then took blankets into a bedroom closet and hid.

    Sometime later I woke from fitful sleep. There were no other sounds from beings creeping around the house. Only my breathing filled the air. I stayed quiet and listened for a hint of monsters in the yard or rumbling down the street.

    It took me a moment to remember my natural stealth abilities. It had only been a month or so in this new world and I still felt uncomfortable in new places. Last night I hadn¡¯t spent enough time searching the area or securing a place to sleep. I¡¯d been lulled, foolishly, by Little Shade¡¯s presence earlier. Honestly, it surprised me that no monsters had come out of the darkness trying to eat me while I, relieved myself, in the bathroom.

    ¡°I¡¯m still alive,¡± I told myself. ¡°It¡¯s a new day. I¡¯m still alive.¡±

    My eyes closed as I huffed.

    ¡°Focus on what¡¯s next. Think about it logically,¡± I whispered. My head dipped in a nod. Today would be another day of getting answers. By nightfall, I¡¯d be on my way out of town to catch up with the others. Maybe I could find a bike or a skateboard.

    That was actually a great idea. A skateboard took more energy, but with a backpack full of supplies and a fast means of transportation, I could cut days off my travel to Crown State Park. By then I should be able to help the others a little bit, or, worst case scenario, pick up the mission if they¡¯d suffered defeat.

    The thought that they might die made me seize. I told myself that I only cared as long as they were useful, which was partially true, but their deaths would put Stella¡¯s future in jeopardy.

    Spell experimentation would be next. I slapped on the hulking body once more and studied myself in a mirror. The body reminded me of the Ogre King. All brawn and zero body fat. It was as if someone had injected steroids into me, turned the workout dial up to twelve, and compounded that once more.

    I had no hair. That was new. Hawthorn had hair and eyebrows. This new body didn¡¯t. While it wasn¡¯t necessary, I wanted to figure out if this form would be part of Lance¡¯s identity, or Hawthorn¡¯s, or something else entirely.

    ¡°I am a¡­¡± The words died. I¡¯d been about to call myself a goat but that failed. Lying was still apparently taboo. Which was consistent across all forms.

    ¡°I am¡­¡± The words died a second time. This would not do to call myself by either Lance or Hawthorn. They were radically different. Lance had a beanpole body and baggy-eyed gaze. He spoke clinically.

    Post Note: Yes, I¡¯m aware that I had a beanpole body and baggy-eyed gaze. Lance is me. Hawthorn is me. Yet at times they¡¯re not. Almost as if they¡¯re two different roles. It was at this point I recalled what those three stewardesses said. They¡¯d spoken each of my names as if they were separate beings.

    ¡°Underwood. Mister Underwood,¡± I said after much thought. ¡°I am Mister Underwood.¡±

    Being called my father was strange. The name fit though. This form certainly had the imposing stature of a Mister. If anyone argued I could flick their foreheads and send them flying. I reached toward a wall and tested the flicking motion. It broke the plaster as sure as a punch from Hawthorn.

    My request had been for power. I¡¯d gotten it. So, now I had a new name and a third form. I glared at the spell book in front of me. It looked tiny and fragile now. My hand fit over the entire book, the material was warm.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    I frowned and decided to test the other spells to see if there were any combination effects or changes in the old items.

    Post Note: I almost wish the two spells had overlaid each other without problem. I imagined a hulking version of Hawthorn spouting innuendoes in a professionally suave tone, and lost half an hour giggling to myself and smiling. That being said, I would have been made of pure testosterone and libido, which might have ended poorly for my ability to reason.

    The explosive spell had changed. It refused to stick to objects anymore. I tested attaching it to myself but remembered the last time I¡¯d experienced a boom at close range. That would have to wait until later.

    My third spell, the black pit of item storage, still worked. The net and knife were unchanged. I¡¯d hoped the knife might turn into a giant two-handed sword but magic hadn¡¯t agreed with me. My wine flute felt extra useless considering a single finger of this Mister Underwood body was almost the same size. It¡¯d be faster to scoop water out of a pond.

    The ogres might recover from the damage we¡¯d done before I caught up. Worst case I¡¯d have to complete the mission myself, and I barely understood what we needed to do once getting to Crown State Park. Allegra was going to scout for sources of power when we got to the entrance. Callisto suggested we avoid talking about it before getting there. Her reasoning was too much thought ahead of time would cause us to take the sabotage mission on the Ogre King lightly.

    Arson handled the equipment. He brought everything. I suspected his cart had a storage spell or some similar magic on it. It didn¡¯t matter. I needed to find them and survive the wilderness before worrying about anything else.

    I acquired a fresh set of clothes from the house. The pants were loose, and the only shirts were button ups made for a tall man with no shoulders. They did not fit Mister Underwood, meaning when I used this bigger form I¡¯d be topless.

    Lance would be easier to travel in. I stopped my experiments but stayed in the new form for practice. My meaty hand crushed the doorknob instead of unlocking it. The air outside smelled damp and the ground had signs of being flooded by water. This mattered because footprints weren¡¯t invisible, and mini-orcs were annoyingly good trackers.

    Post Note: This is a fact learned from the last month. Scouting the town was easy. Avoiding notice while moving was also easy. Stopping too long in one place would almost always result in mini-orcs poking their disturbingly gross tusks around while whispering, ¡°Treats?¡±

    On the road, there would be no trails to follow. The overgrown grass and muddy corners from unwashed streets made it hard to avoid a few footprints. I kept an eye out for any house which might have bikes or skateboards. Nothing was obvious this far after the world had changed. Most houses looked the same.

    I couldn¡¯t remember finding any transportation device. There were cars, but they were ruined with flat tires, broken doors, bashed windshields and sand for batteries. I checked open garages but anything of use had been picked over. It didn¡¯t stop me. The only choices were to keep going or give up. I¡¯d never been a quitter. Drug laden and reclusive, but not a quitter.

    Then it hit me. Maybe the pawn shops downtown would have something of use. Pawn shops always had bikes and guitars. It was that or go back to the housing near the library and see if Coach Madison¡¯s stashed goods had been ransacked. No, that was too far and not in the right direction.

    The street on the way out of town had two shops. I held no illusions that they¡¯d be in one piece. Knowing my luck, they¡¯d be dungeons or have some powerful monster sitting behind the counter. I expected to be attacked by the monster or be told the bike would cost two thousand bucks, which I¡¯d never be able to afford. Or he might send me on a quest to raid the local field of little monsters, gather seven plums from a sacred tree, then venture to the roof of a nearby house and mix a bowl at midnight under some moonlight.

    I walked slowly to the edge of town. No useful resources presented themselves to help speed my way or serve as a weapon for this other form I¡¯d gained. My legs still hurt with each step but the pain faded as time passed.

    Pawn shop, then venture out of town toward the park. Without that super powerful item, which I still didn¡¯t know the details on, we¡¯d probably be doomed. No one seemed willing to relocate somewhere safe. That meant Stella would die as soon as the ogre army grew powerful enough. I couldn¡¯t kill the ogre as Hawthorn, it might be possible with this new shape but I¡¯d lose time trying. Both time loss and my niece¡¯s death were unacceptable possibilities.

    It came down to trust. I simply didn¡¯t trust Callisto and the others to succeed without me.

    Post Note: Now, if this seems like a lot of pointless mental wandering, it¡¯s not. I had hours to kill during the slow walk. My future plans were focused but the ¡°how¡± of completing them all timely still escaped me. I longed for the days of cars and motorcycles, public buses and so on. Anything that could get me toward my destination faster.

    I paused and attempted to absorb the sheer disconnect between my memories and the current picture. One thing I had not done since returning to this world, was venture outside of town. For a month and a half, I¡¯d skulked around the city inspecting various areas and searching for treasures.

    I¡¯d never had a chance to see what the ¡°gateway¡± to our city had deteriorated into. The buildings at the edge of town were ragged. Paint peeled off their sides, lawns were either dead or wildly overgrown by weeds. There had once been a city-maintained entryway here that had been watered daily, mowed, and the sidewalks carefully edged. All of that had clearly stopped.

    Outside of town was an untamed wilderness. The former four lane highway was barely one crackled piece of pavement. The tree lines on either side encroached and their roots jutted out creating ripples in the landscape. I had no clue how Arson had navigated his cart over that mess.

    I turned and studied the last line of our fair city. Rubble and torn up buildings sat there. Pawn shops right at the merger between town and highway had collapsed roofs. Broken glass still shone under piles of leaves and wrappers. The fast food and department store on the corner hadn¡¯t fared any better. Nature had been steadily working to take over everything.

    This much of an unclean mess could have been from the magic that took over our world. It could also have come from monsters, a lack of maintenance, or simply not having humans to provide wear and tear to nature. It would never matter why this happened. The only thing of note is I still hadn¡¯t found a means of getting to Crown State Park, aside from my feet.

    I would not have the supplies to last days. Even if I did follow the path down the overgrown highway, I¡¯d be starving by the time I reached Arson. That would make me useless to anyone. The sun, which had been at high noon when I reached the city limits, dropped to early afternoon. I searched the stores and kept a hand on my spells.

    There were monsters. Mini-orcs in droves, but their deaths were hardly worth mentioning.

    Post Note: I mention them now only to illustrate that I went from less than twenty dollars on my card, back up to one hundred and six in the span of an angry four hour search. The math may be vague, but I¡¯d lost some to Midge for her secret, lost more making the deal, and gained little in between.

    Hours later I felt sore and broken. The sun would set on my third day since separating from the rest of my team. That was a day healing with Little Shade. A second day traveling to the sewage plant and getting my item. Then a third day being abandoned, testing my spells, and walking out here to find nothing.

    I could run but my body still needed time to heal. I could go back to the park but then we¡¯d run the risk of them failing without me. It might be possible to use the new form and run more guerrilla warfare tactics on the ogre compound, but I¡¯d never actually kill the main enemy without a lot of luck or even more power.

    The options were terrible.

    I wanted to sit. My body had been moving for hours and I had no more energy. Healing from wounds didn¡¯t give me an unlimited battery. I found a spot near the road so I¡¯d be able to study the route out for possible problems. A bus stop had once been here but the bench was split in two and the undercover area was knocked over and its side panels broken.

    The nearby wreckage gave me more than enough spare parts to repair the bench. The panels were harder to replace but excessive amounts of tape let me seal the bigger pieces of glass together. It should have surprised me that any of these objects, the broken glass, tape, and a metal bench, had continued to exist, but it didn¡¯t.

    The world made little to no sense and after a month, I simply accepted the changes and moved on. Most days I felt thankful when nothing attempted to eat my face during the night.

    Repairing the bench took the rest of the evening. It kept my body busy while my mind bemoaned the misfortune at the pig barn. Without failing there I wouldn¡¯t have met Little Shade and received the new ogre form spell, but I¡¯d also wouldn¡¯t have had to regrow any limbs and get left behind.

    Post Note: Did I think that the others knew I was still alive? No. If they¡¯d known I was alive, Allegra could have easily led them to me. Did I expect them to suddenly turn around for me? No. Because I wouldn¡¯t for them. Did I have a sure-fire plan to catch up? Still no. The road felt downright ominous as daylight faded.

    Mini-orcs were nearby, being led by a lantern wielder. I felt well enough to relieve them off their lives and took the lantern to keep me company. The stupid item wouldn¡¯t convert to a spell, but if I did abruptly decide to walk down the empty former highway, a light would help keep me sane.

    I set it on the repaired bench and went about propping up the shed. Near the fallen shelter was a strong pole with a bus symbol on it. The number was pure gibberish, like every other word in the universe. I used it to try to prop up the shelter long enough to get the two sides bound and reinforced with wood.

    Post Note: It wasn¡¯t that I even needed to fix the location. It felt important. It also felt like a way to pass the time constructively. I could also claim that it was a new drive brought to me by the ogre form¡ªand those all may be true. But in hindsight I think the reason was more complicated.

    This spot was where wilderness met ¡°civilization¡± and the ruins it had become bothered me. I wanted to make it better, if only to tell nature to go fornicate itself. An act of defiance against the ravages of time and whatever magical overlords had brought about the end of days.

    The sides were too heavy and my body too small. I didn¡¯t have the strength to hold it up as Lance. After four attempts and failures that caused taped up glass to shatter, I remembered to use my other form. Mister Underwood would certainly have the strength and size to get this together easier.

    I planted the bus stop sign into the ground like a spear and removed my shirt. Everything shrank as my perspective rose by a good three feet. The bench became almost dainty. I strapped the roof together using a giant board from a nearby ruin and wove rope around it. It took another hour and my body dripped with sweat by the end.

    I sat on the bench under my badly repaired bus stop-shelter and sighed. The world had been simpler when all that mattered was rehabilitation, pills, and bills. The world had been easier when Richard called and asked if I was able to come over for dinner. Now I was pointlessly repairing places to sit down at the edge of town.

    The lantern flickered. A sharp screech of tires filled the air. I stood and banged my head into the shelter¡¯s top. The board cracked but held its weight. I rubbed the bump on my head while looking around.

    Rule 9

    Take Mental Inventory & Repair Bus Stops

    A vehicle cruised down the street at high speeds. The tires cast clouds of smoke as rubber burned. Bright lights at its front blazed above a grill bent into a demonic smile. It fishtailed and spun twice before halting, ten feet away from the bus stop.

    It made little sense, but there was a bus, at the bus stop. Logically speaking that¡¯s where they belonged, but I hadn¡¯t seen anything like this since my return to the changed world.

    This looked like the exact same bus that had dropped me off at the corner market near my house. The sides were not made of metal. It appeared to be a varnished wood. I had no idea what kind of engine made this run.

    Its door opened, and a foul round troll of a woman sat in the seat. She swished a cigar and shouted at me in a phlegm filled voice, ¡°Well?¡±

    Automatically, I said, ¡°Greetings, I¡¯m Mister Underwood, and I find myself in dire need of transportation.¡±

 Book 2, Rule 10

    Rule 10

    Demons Aren¡¯t & Trolls Toll By The Mile

    Statement: Once again, this world surprised me with the strange association between familiar situations and fantastical variations. The bus and bus stop went together perfectly. It showing up out of nowhere made sense for a fantasy land.

    How many secret places, such as the Ogre King¡¯s seat of power, and repair bus stops, existed? How many could be made because their logic coupled with magic provided results? If I found a dojo and practiced martial arts, would I learn to fight with weapons besides a knife and explosions? If I flew a kite with a key on it, would I be able to summon electricity?

    There were dryads, alluring women with all the right curves and voices that made a man double over in awkwardness. There were ogres. Large masses of muscle with sloped foreheads and hunched backs, which is essentially how I looked as Mister Underwood. Then there was this woman. She existed in a land of grossness well beyond ogres. If she had a baby with Mister Yuck Yuck, the world might delete itself in disgust.

    ¡°Where to?¡± The woman, if it could be called that in any human culture, coughed wetly.

    ¡°How much is the fare?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Where to?¡± she shouted and spit out the door, at me. Her projectile landed on the ground and burned into the grass.

    ¡°My preferred destination is Crown State Park. Failing that, anywhere thereabouts would be most welcome.¡±

    ¡°Fifty. Also fifty for cleaning the seat. Stupid ogres can¡¯t wipe their own asses, and leave messes everywhere.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯ll be able to assist me in arriving at that far off destination.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± She cleared her throat and nodded. ¡°Yeah, I got your stop. Right here.¡± She jabbed a map behind her head without looking. I leaned over slightly and stared at the map. It resembled the county I knew. Unreadable notes were scrawled on the paper, portions of it were outright missing.

    I nodded and put a foot on the entryway. The bus tilted wildly.

    ¡°Hey!¡± she shouted. I paused midway onto the bus. ¡°Gas, grass, or ass!¡± She banged on a box near the steering wheel.

    What I meant to say was, ¡°Uhhhh.¡± Instead a far more eloquent set of words came out. ¡°That puts me in the midst of a dilemma.¡±

    I blinked. Being an ogre, since I felt sure that¡¯s what I was, but being ridiculously academic in my word choice did not fit. I wanted a monocle to go with my dainty wine flute. If I used those items, and the book, I could absolutely confuse anyone.

    Post Note: Imagine me, naked, the size of a mini-giant, talking like a perfect gentleman. The bus driver didn¡¯t care in the slightest, as if getting on a bus stark naked was normal. Perhaps, in this world, it was.

    ¡°No money?¡±

    ¡°I have the requisite funds, naturally.¡± As before, thought something much different.

    Post Note: For brevity¡¯s sake, it¡¯s best to assume anytime I talked as Mister Underwood, what I said and what I meant to say are fairly far removed. The gist is still the same, but the complexity is startlingly different. At times, especially when first using this form, I didn¡¯t recognize myself.

    She banged the box. ¡°Card here!¡± Change rattled in the device and a set of small teeth, possibly belonging to a rat, fell out. The box coughed, and a faint smile formed upon its surface that reminded me of the vending machines.

    ¡°Exemplary explanation.¡± I touched the card to the smiling box¡¯s surface. It purred. The troll-faced bus driver thumbed to the back, grabbed her cigar and knocked ash onto the floor.

    I made my way to a seat and sat..

    This bus ride felt much different than the original the original one bringing me to a changed world. I spent it nervously bouncing my leg and chewing on my fingernails, in as civil a manner as an ogre with distorted body parts could manage.

    It fully registered how bizarre the situation had become. I sat there, on a strange bus, headed toward a new destination, with my Lance and Hawthorn pants and shirt sitting over my ¡°jaw breaking¡± equipment. The seat was mildly comfortable compared to what I recalled of regular world buses.

    The fabric in my hand might serve as a loincloth. It probably wouldn¡¯t last past the first fight. I¡¯d been tempted to find oversized material and store it with the black spell but they wouldn¡¯t last more than ten minutes. While it might be comical to others, for me to be mid fight in material that looked like it¡¯d been spun from a starry night painting, and even funnier to see it fall apart as I came in to bash some insane monster, it sounded disturbing.

    ¡°I say,¡± a man whispered. His voice rolled and echoed softly, as if two or three people spoke in near unison.

    I hadn¡¯t noticed any riders until he said something. I turned around, feeling worried that someone had noticed me, and managed to get close without my detection. My elbow slammed into the figure.

    ¡°Pardon me. These elongated limbs are difficult to control,¡± I said.

    The man rubbed his face and leaned back. His nose wrinkled in disgust that quickly vanished. He took a breath and smiled.

    ¡°No worries,¡± he answered with that wavering echo of a voice. ¡°I merely wanted to know, are you wearing any pants?¡±

    I took a good look at him.

    The man speaking was a demon. Clearly a demon. His eyes were blacker than a lightless pit. He had curved horns forming tight spirals which pointed backward. The final details were red skin and his breath smelled like sulfur. I sniffed and ignored the large pointed bottom teeth. There were comparable to the tusks of a mini-orc but more refined.

    Post Note: I feel dirty using the word ¡®refined¡¯ to describe a demon¡ªbut he was. His look had been obsessively groomed, down to the fine dark hairs that made up a goatee, without a single strand out of place.

    We weren¡¯t out to kill each other, apparently. The bus might serve as a neutral zone. Or maybe he wasn¡¯t an insane monster like those found in dungeons. I frowned, recalling my own outlandish appearance. The other factor was my size versus his. I didn¡¯t feel threatened by a creature whose head easily fit within my palm.

    Honesty served me best when tackling unfamiliar situations. ¡°Unfortunately. Finding clothes in my size has proven difficult. Pants are too tight, if you understand my implication.¡±

    ¡°You could find a tailor. A woman lives near this route, does fascinating things with a needle and thread. Also a bit of light bondage if that¡¯s your thing?¡± He lifted a bushy eyebrow. I shook my head. As Mister Underwood, I didn¡¯t have dirty thoughts every other heartbeat. ¡°Perhaps for the best. Though if you¡¯re low on funds, I¡¯ve another tidbit of information for you.¡±

    ¡°Pardon my wariness, but does this information come with a price?¡±

    He laughed, and a dozen voices laughed from his mouth. Their pitch raised and lowered making his mirth somewhere between well-mannered, and a sobbing mental break. Both laughs were familiar to me after all my time as Hawthorn.

    ¡°Of course not. There is no room here, between places, for such pursuits. I¡¯m merely killing time, ideally in both meanings of the words.¡± He leaned over toward me with a hand up, shielding his lips from prying eyes. ¡°Truthfully, I will receive a small benefit for the referral. You understand. We must get ahead how we can, and such a small request is harmless, right?¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡°Of course,¡± I said with more certainty than I felt. A demon offering me a place for the perfect pair of pants while on a magical bus, driven by a troll bus driver, while I looked like an ogre, all those things combined couldn¡¯t be a trap. Like every other mad factor to this world, it was accept and move on, or question and go insane. I chose the former, it kept me alive.

    ¡°And I heard you say you were headed to Crown State Park?¡±

    I nodded.

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re in luck. The spiders out there give marvelously effective silk. Last I¡¯d been told, though admittedly this was a month ago, the tailor, ah¡­ I have her card here somewhere¡­¡± The demon patted his clothes. ¡°If you¡¯d be a dear and merely show her this.¡± He pulled a small card out of his pocket.

    I hadn¡¯t noticed before but he had on an exceptionally well-tailored suit. It didn¡¯t have sleeves, but the vest and shirt were top notch. He was a sharp dressed demon, and likely ready to make a deal for some poor fool¡¯s soul.

    ¡°Here you go. Free of charge. If you see her, be clear in what you seek. She¡¯ll tell you the deal. Haggling is pointless. Bring her enough spider silk and she might be able to craft you more, reliable pants for your¡­ erm¡±¡ªhe faded off, clearly at a loss for words¡ª¡°unwieldly limbs. In all meanings of the word.¡±

    The demon nodded and smiled.

    ¡°That is kind,¡± I said.

    His lips twitched briefly. ¡°Of course, of course. We must all look out for each. In every meaning of the words. A favor here means you may provide a favor later, am I right?¡± He smiled and chuckled in a dozen low voices.

    The card in my hand and his words reminded me of something dangerous I¡¯d heard from months ago. The man who¡¯d sold me my artifact had told me thanking Wildchilds might cause problems. Words were dangerous, and thanking people could lead to owing people more somehow. I hadn¡¯t figured out how it all went together, yet.

    ¡°I will certainly consider it when the time comes.¡± I promised nothing and chose not to say thanks.

    ¡°First time taking a bus?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Negative. This is actually the third time I¡¯ve ventured into one of these contraptions.¡±

    ¡°Really? That is interesting. The line didn¡¯t connect to that stop until recently. Did you repair it?¡±

    ¡°I put the sign back into the ground.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all?¡±

    ¡°I did assemble a bench and managed to use some wood and nails to get the shelter going.¡±

    ¡°What fine craftsmanship. Who knew ogres were so useful?¡±

    ¡°I was unaware that repairing the stop would have any positive impact.¡±

    The demon nodded and rippled his bottom lip with a huff. The effect sent fresh sulfuric steam into the air. He coughed and a small burble of fire sparked in the back of his throat before dying down.

    ¡°We all have our strengths, no doubt. Ogres, I¡¯ve heard tell, are quite industrious. Perhaps you saw them in the city¡¯s center? I¡¯ve heard their leader wants a palace built. The others are all running around like little worker bees. Or ants, I suppose. In either sense of the word.¡±

    ¡°Not all of them,¡± I said, mindful of my own status as ogre of finer pedigree.

    He fully frowned and lifted an arm. I moved my elbow out of his way so the demon could reach past me. A cord was pulled and a bird, I couldn¡¯t see, squawked. The bus driver grumbled and slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched. We spun in circles. My gut tightened as the world blurred.

    We came to a gradual halt. The driver grumbled in between coughing fits. She leaned over and shouted back at us, ¡°Get off!¡± Then hocked a fresh glob of phlegm onto the floor.

    I stared at my feet and wondered how I¡¯d walked through all that without noticing. This form might not have any feeling on my soles. The demon stood and gave me a polite half-bow.

    ¡°The crossroads. My stop, I¡¯m afraid. If you wish to find me again simply drop by. Though I¡¯m afraid it will have to be more formal. For both of us, in both meanings of the words. You understand, of course?¡±

    I didn¡¯t. The implications were clear but the actual results might vary. My head bobbed and I watched the demon go to the front of the bus. He stopped at the ash, shook his head in what might be disapproval, and stepped off.

    ¡°Ah, Mister Underwood!¡± he shouted through the open door. I leaned forward looked out through the tinted windows.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Have you called your therapist yet?¡± the demon asked, his voice lifting in a yell. He laughed, and a dozen voices came out with mocking amusement.

    My mouth hung open. The bus doors slammed shut and our driver peeled out. We left him behind in seconds as the bus traversed the narrow remains of highway at breakneck speed. Outside was a nightmare, but inside we hardly felt any of the gravitational forces that should have been pulling us. My head should have been reeled back and chest struggling for breath.

    ¡°Next stop! Crown State Park! That¡¯s you, idiot,¡± she said.

    I needed more information before we reached our stop. My clothes were still bundled in front of my privates. The ogre didn¡¯t even glance in her mirror to see me walking up. She growled and leaned over to unleash snotty hell upon my feet.

    I stepped back and said, ¡°If I might inquire, how does one return to where we were picked up at? Additionally, I¡¯d like to inquire as to the time.¡±

    ¡°And I want the winning lottery numbers!¡± She jabbed toward my eye with the cigar.

    My eye twitched as both shoulders bunched, and fists tightened. This tiny half-a-slimeball was treating me like garbage. I almost backhanded her but managed to keep the violent impulse under control. She¡¯d driven me to a destination that I¡¯d had no idea on how to get to.

    She snorted, spit, again, and took a long drag of her cigar. Above her head a spot on the map brightened with a point of fire. The driver frowned, stared at my tensed arms and seemed to reconsider her earlier aggression. She reached for a bar on her right, cranked it back and the tires started sobbing under the sudden pressure of an emergency brake.

    ¡°Time is subjective,¡± she snarled the words. I grabbed onto the wooden rail above me for support and almost dropped the bundle of clothes. None of this prevented the driver from talking. ¡°A minute here. An hour there. An hour here, days outside. And if there¡¯s a stop, and you got money, I¡¯ll show up. But unless you got more money, get off my bus!¡±

    She jabbed me with her cigar again and I stumbled backward, out the door. I did not have more money, and her answer satisfied my questions. Back inside the bus, barely visible above the driver¡¯s head, a second point of light appeared on the map. Her expression soured, if such a face could get uglier.

    My foot hit the road. The door slammed shut and a heartbeat later the bus was gone.

    Post Note: I¡¯m fairly sure the lights on the map help her know where to go. I also assume she¡¯s tied to it, and perhaps the bus, on an instinctual level. Similar to how I am with my rune spells. Maybe people were able to exchange debt points for experience orbs, while those of us fighting gathered both. If so, it was a system that encouraged co-dependency and specialized roles. More on this later¡­

    I stood there for a few minutes and managed to ignore the cool night wind on my exposed butt cheeks. It¡¯d been sunset when I completed the shelter. Our bus ride had taken a handful of minutes, which, according to the driver¡¯s words, meant most of the night had passed. Dawn should be right around the corner but I didn¡¯t feel tired.

    Magic, once again, proved capable of making life weird. Simply put, taking the bus had upsides and downsides. The fare would have probably been higher to travel farther. It made me wonder how much a trip back to the stadium where we¡¯d all been gifted our original powers might cost.

    It also made me wonder what I did with the other business card I¡¯d been given by that long-bearded dwarf. He¡¯d spit a lot too. Maybe he and the bus driver were considered Underkin and being uncaring about neatness was a species trait.

    Post Note: As always, each experience gave me more information but left more questions.

    Upon turning, I discovered a bus stop sign. It leaned to one side and vines grew around it. Flowers toward the post¡¯s top faced in my direction. I took two steps forward and glanced at the buds. They shifted to continue facing me.

    I started to prepare an explosive spell, before remembering the bus stop sign would be useful in the future, and this form didn¡¯t play well with that spell. I took a breath, positioned my clothes over my groin to maintain some modesty, and marked the flowers as a possible threat.

    Post Note: The flowers did not attack, but in my defense, they might have leapt off the vine and gone for my eyes. It would have been foolish to discount nature, especially in a new land where monsters might leap out of any corner.

    A few yards behind the bus stop was a giant archway spanning two or three lanes of ruined pavement. The edges were rusted, and webs spun between the ironwork. Curls where laurels had been were distorted and spikier. I sniffed the air, it contained a mixture of dampness and overturned earth.

    Thick fog blurred my vision, hanging in a solid mass near the giant archway. I knew the fog but had never seen it that thick before. Arson used a special incense to protect the cart. It almost functioned exactly opposite of perfumes¡ªby driving away monsters instead of luring them.

    I stepped toward it. With each large step the cart became more distinct. The donkey stood there with its head hanging low. It¡¯d been released from the straps but remained inside the fog. An umbrella stuck up on one side of the driver¡¯s seat, and rain boots on the other. Beer cans littered the ground.

    Arson must be there. He¡¯d survived the trip. With his three escorts it should have been easy enough, assuming the monsters out here were as simple as the mini-orcs.

    Post Note: They weren¡¯t. Aren¡¯t. Whatever term applies, I simply hadn¡¯t known at the time.

    I decided, to play a trick. In hindsight, it wasn¡¯t the wisest move I¡¯d ever made, but once committed there was no escaping. It was as though a voice in the back of my head suggested the idea and I couldn¡¯t help but agree.

    My bare feet carried me quietly along the ground. I hadn¡¯t checked my stealth in this form so focusing on silence would help. I leaned over Arson and unleashed hell.

    ¡°Excuse me,¡± I said in a stern voice.

    Arson fell backward. The umbrella went one way, and another beer can clattered to the ground. The donkey reared and brayed. I smiled in delight at seeing him get upset. Normally he acted aloof and uncaring about all four of us. He¡¯d been that way since I met him. We were just passengers and he simply drove the cart toward destinations unknown. After riding the stewardesses¡¯ bus I felt amazed at the sheer variety within their similar roles.

    ¡°Pardon me, kind sir, but would you have any pants?¡±

    ¡°Why would I have a thing for ants!¡± he shouted and waved a stick of smoke at me. The smell made my nose itch but did nothing to drive me away.

    ¡°Pants,¡± I repeated loudly, smacking my lips to emphasize the sound. My free hand lifted the bundle of clothes belonging to my smaller form.

    The man¡¯s face twisted as he glanced up and down, settling upon my exposed privates. It was cold so the sight might not have been impressive for an ogre, but it surely passed the standard human average.

    ¡°That¡¯s a penis!¡± He waved the stick of incense with more energy.

    I laughed and considered my joke successful.

 Book 2, Rule 11

    Rule 11

    Pants Mean Everything & Teammates Are Assholes

    Statement: Imagine, for a moment, that discovering secrets can lead to a form of power. I¡¯ve said this a few times. Midge said it. Little Shade. The word is misleading because when they speak of secrets, it¡¯s not simply something you whisper to another person and don¡¯t share¡ªlike where a dead body is located. A secret, as this world seems to define it, is anything that not a lot of people are aware of and is useful to know.

    So my question is this; if learning a secret is so valuable that people trade them like commodities, what value then, does creating secrets give? And as a follow up, I heard someone mention a Secret King. What is that?

    Arson shook. I almost felt bad. To my knowledge he hadn¡¯t dealt with a monster, ever. Not a single knife blade to their necks. Never dropped explosives under a monster¡¯s feet. Arson, had missed all the fun in our new world. Though I think he had a special connection with one of the farmers back at town.

    I gave my best reassuring smile and flinched once I remembered my teeth were all messed up, and this body had grotesque limbs. Even if they knew I was the same person as Hawthorn, finding the similarities in our features would be hard. It was there, in the eyes, a bit at the cheeks and a wrinkle between my eyebrows. That¡¯s how I knew I was still me.

    ¡°I don¡¯t taste good!¡± Arson shouted.

    Post Note: I¡¯d been standing there, contemplating life¡¯s mysteries, while Arson continued to freak out. This amused me and I started giggling again.

    My laugh, and the demon¡¯s from before, were drastically different. I wondered if it would be possible to get the after echo, purely to magnify the absurdity of this form.

    ¡°You better leave before the others get here. I¡¯ve seen what they do to ogres!¡± He quaked.

    His fear mad me smile. But with happiness, was annoyance at not being answered. Pants would have made this less awkward. Removing the ogre marking wouldn¡¯t have helped either since I¡¯d simply revert to Lance. Arson didn¡¯t know Lance.

    ¡°My name is Mister Underwood. I¡¯m in dire need of pants. Are you able to provide assistance?¡±

    ¡°Step back!¡±

    I loomed over him. Nine feet of insane muscle against an elderly black man was unfair. I liked it.

    ¡°Perhaps we might make a bargain. You¡¯re still new to this world¡±¡ªso was I but my mouth and mind weren¡¯t saying the same thing¡ª¡°you provide me pants, I eliminate monsters for you. That¡¯s valuable to humans, correct?¡±

    Continuing to harass Arson wasn¡¯t my intent. I wanted to say that he didn¡¯t need to be afraid of me. My job had always been killing monsters and scouting the area silently. Before any of that happened, I wanted bigger pants. Fighting naked bothered me immensely. Getting pants suitable for this form would let me test out everything I needed to. Learning how to kill monsters as Hawthorn or Lance served no purpose. I already could.

    Post Note: Each half-formed reason for being Mister Underwood rather than Lance brought my mind back to needing pants. Here are all the half-formed reasons I used to convince myself:

    <ul>

    <li>Mister Underwood would revert to Lance. Transforming took ten seconds. Long enough to be stabbed.</li>

    <li>Hawthorn and Lance were easier to kill, in theory. I needed to learn how to use this Mister Underwood form. Battle experience meant a lot.</li>

    <li>There were spiders nearby. The larger I was, the smaller they would seem. Spiders are gross.</li>

    <li>Webbing a bee and webbing a bird are two different tasks in terms of difficultly, the same should apply to webbing Lance/Hawthorn-sized me, versus Mister Underwood-sized me.</li>

    <li>I liked having my separate forms be a secret</li>

    <li>¡­Arson¡¯s terror amused me¡ªto an extent. The immaturity of this statement does not remove its validity. </li>

    </ul>

    ¡°What?¡±

    His poor hearing would be the death of my sanity. If I had really been an ogre, I would have back handed Arson¡¯s cart and crushed everything in sight. My impulses were still easy to control because of the constant flood of new sensations. The smells of this near forest entrance distracted me.

    The cart driver said something and I utterly missed it. He continued to yammer. I sniffed and got a whiff of steel and oils. There was a soft scent like baby powder mixed in with a kind of fishy undertone that might have been sweat or gym socks. Those were about the same anyway.

    Arson shouted, ¡°And you¡¯ll have a sword through your gut before you know it!¡±

    ¡°Pants! I want big wide, fat man pants!¡± I shouted abruptly. It was the simplest sentence I¡¯d bellowed all day.

    The fog made me muddle headed. I would have been better off wandering into the woods and murdering everything in sight. I could walk out and roll up all the webbing I¡¯d stumble through then go find this seamstress for actual clothes.

    ¡°I don¡¯t sell plants!¡± Arson shouted. ¡°There¡¯s an entire forest if you need some! Shoo, go on. Git.¡±

    I stuck the clothes into his face. Arson waved his hands at the garment. Sharp pain tore along my shoulder as something sliced my skin open. My chest tightened as all the air in my lungs shot out in a sudden bellow of outrage.

    I swung my right hand back while turning. My shirt and spell book were held against my chest by the left arm. A solid object blocked the blow and two more slashes tore my back.

    ¡°Redemption must be given,¡± Leon yelled. His shield smacked me in the face. The blow sent me reeling while Leon continued to spout nonsense. ¡°Pray for the souls of those fallen to wicked ways. In the name of our lord and savior Mayor Kent!¡±

    While he yelled I turned to get a look at the situation. Arson¡¯s cart was on one side. Leon and Callisto attacked from the other. She darted out of the corner of my eye while Leon¡¯s glowing yellow aura pulled my gaze like a candle in the dark. That sour fish smell was stronger.

    ¡°Hey,¡± I yelled with complete eloquence. ¡°Stop that.¡±

    Something kicked my back but it hardly registered. Leon¡¯s armor-framed face peeked out from behind the shield. His eyebrows blended in with the helmet. I almost fully realized what had happened but lost my mind when Leon¡¯s sledgehammer raised into the air.

    I¡¯d seen it a hundred times while working with him. I¡¯d never seen the effect of fighting against the trio. My world fuzzed and went utterly white as a light from the hammer turned my brain to a blank canvas. It was like Little Shade¡¯s darkness, but in reverse.

    There were crashing sounds. More slashes tore my skin. I curled into a ball to keep my chest and stomach protected. My heartbeat sped as I searched frantically for a way to retaliate. Thudding filled my ears.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    For a moment, only a single breath or two, I thought that this would be the end.

    The spell faded and I still lived. Razor-like cuts had torn my skin to shreds. Being hit in the forearm hurt less than my stomach being stabbed. I used the arm to block her blows and kicked to drive Leon back. My unbalanced body flopped to the ground with a crash.

    Callisto¡¯s fast footwork got her clear of my wild kicks. I¡¯d been pushed away from Arson¡¯s cart during the blind struggle. Leon¡¯s shield showed signs of cracking and his legs trembled.

    My tricks were few. Pulling off this form while being slashed would leave me as a weaker and easier to kill Lance. Transforming took too long. I still had the spell book, cradled against my chest inside the remaining shirt. They wouldn¡¯t notice it since it had been covered.

    In that moment, I didn¡¯t care if they knew I was Lance, Hawthorn, or Mister Underwood. Survival meant more than a single secret that I¡¯d created for myself. Switching forms simply took too long, and I knew Callisto would stab me in the face with her sharp swords the minute I peeled it off. It¡¯s the same thing I would do if a monster stood still and started glowing.

    I warded off another set of Callisto¡¯s blurring attacks.

    One finger brushed across the spell book¡¯s first page. Red energy hung on the one finger before flowing up and down my other fingers. I used my free arm to shove Leon before he could charge me with that damned shield.

    Callisto¡¯s flickering swords slammed against my shoulder. They glanced off as if my skin were made of steel and not mere flesh. I chuckled, then halted as I remembered she was out to kill me. Leon got between me and the cart. I searched for Allegra, the busty bathrobe wearing blond would be around soon.

    The red spell energy had never done anything for me before but in battle it changed. My hand burned. The sensation pulled my attention and I glanced at my fingers. A red glow suffused the entire fist and concentrated heavily at the knuckles. Beyond that, I saw the shredded remains of the one pair of pants I¡¯d been holding onto since town. She¡¯d utterly ruined them.

    ¡°Enrage move!¡± Callisto shouted.

    Leon lifted his shield and the glow of golden energy increased around him. On his shield a cross formed with a defensive spike. Callisto danced away and got behind the tank. I smirked and charged.

    If they could spend half a minute stabbing me and shoving shields in my face, I could at least give them a solid punch. Leon¡¯s shield should be able to take it. Plus, they¡¯d torn my pants to shreds. Now I¡¯d be naked as Lance.

    Post Note: In an apocalyptic world, pants are way more important than socks and shoes. No one cares about towels. Pants.

    ¡°Ha!¡± I laughed and cleared the last dozen yards in a single leap. My fist blazed red. My penis flapped freely in the wind. A wide smile spread across my face. It served everyone right, not giving me something to wear.

    ¡°Oh gross,¡± Leon shouted and closed his eyes.

    My glowing fist pummeled into the shield¡¯s defensive cross. Yellow light rippled, started to solidify, then shattered. The ground and air vibrated as a shockwave hit. Leon¡¯s stance faltered but he stayed on his feet. His shield cracked. Callisto fell backward and dug into the ground with her swords to stop the motion. Her pants tore, and knees bloodied.

    A pale faced Leon lifted his hammer for his stun spell. I backhanded him before my world could be turned white again. Without the shield, he couldn¡¯t use his defensive abilities and went flying.

    There was just one problem. My hand hurt like mad. I danced and shook the limb. All that did was make me dizzy. ¡°Damnation!¡±

    After two complete circles I found myself staring at the other two. Leon hadn¡¯t recovered from the fall. Callisto wasn¡¯t any better. That shockwave had done a number on their ability to function.

    Callisto¡¯s head rolled from side to side as though she had water in her ears. A few quick strides would let me punt her over the park¡¯s entrance archway like a football. I wanted to punch her, not kill her. She still had all sorts of uses. Neither one of them healed as fast as I could.

    At least I hoped this body healed. There would probably be a reduction in speed to make up for the sheer toughness and strength. I¡¯d lost ranged abilities like the thrown explosive spell but gained an insane amount of close combat durability. Hawthorn could have easily stabbed one of them in the eye and simply killed them. There were too many comparisons to sort. I¡¯d work through them after I calmed down.

    I quivered with a deep sigh. My shirt and book were tucked under an armpit. My body shook and muscles repeatedly flexed. The urge to hit anything standing called to me. Knuckles cracked as my fist met palm in a tight grip. It felt good so I cracked the other set of knuckles next.

    ¡°All I requested,¡± I said while keeping my jaw locked. ¡°Was pants. It is that such a difficult item to procure? Did I need a permit to shop here? I would have traded services for goods. Isn¡¯t that fair?¡±

    I did plan on killing monsters. Especially after the last few days. They¡¯d been utterly boring. Picking off mini-orcs equated to fighting kindergarteners. Kids could get a lucky shot in if you weren¡¯t paying attention, but any actual effort made the battle one sided. My nephews had been tough.

    ¡°Stop fighting!¡± Allegra screamed. Leon glanced back for a second and kicked away from me. Callisto stepped in and held her swords out in defense of her fallen ally.

    I continued my prior train of thought. My family hadn¡¯t been strong or tough enough. Thinking of Stella reminded me of Richard¡¯s failure to survive the line. Of his wife¡¯s. They¡¯d left Stella behind and I didn¡¯t know how or why. The tension I felt drained slowly at the thought of her being abandoned to this world. Countless babies had been cast aside.

    Post Note: I write this, not to make a big deal of what had happened, but to show that even though what I was becoming, acting as, or am still turning into may be a monster to some¡ªI have my own moral line. As long as someone is more useful to my goals than they are a dead weight, they get to live. That seems a fair rule in this world. The thing I must reminded myself of is this, useless now does not mean useless later. I must measure everyone with what they might become in the long term¡ªeven myself.

    Coach Madison had survived. Callisto had survived. They had a strength of character that Richard lacked. I¡¯d pondered it countless times. His wife might have walked out with the kids and he¡¯d heard the noise. Or maybe it¡¯d been the other way around. More than one soul had broken at hearing the terrible screams and rending flesh.

    It would have been worse for a parent to see their children lost in such a way.

    Someone else stumbled through the archway of the park. She was fuzzy but that might have been my head after being beaten by the shield, or stabbed. Allegra propped herself against the gate, huffing intensely. She held the front of her house robes together tightly and gasped.

    Allegra mumbled something. I sniffed; there was a musky sourness that spoke of sweat. Metal tones were thick enough to make my tongue tense. Being an ogre came with the unwanted side effect of knowing exactly how hard the other two had been working. Their bodies were drenched in sweat.

    Judging by Allegra¡¯s stance, they must have been running for Arson¡¯s wagon from the moment I showed up. The other two were in better shape. They also fought more. Leon running through the park and me not hearing him was pretty impressive. I hadn¡¯t known he could move silently in all the gear he had. It might have been a new ability of his. It stood to reason that they could grow, even as I could.

    ¡°He¡¯s not going to hurt us,¡± Allegra said. She waved at us and continued to catch her breath.

    Her words were wrong. I would hurt them if needed. Fortunately, neither Callisto or Leon had showed a willingness to charge me.

    ¡°He won¡¯t hurt us if¡±¡ªshe gasped again¡ª¡°we don¡¯t attack him. He¡¯s human. Was. Is. Like us.¡±

    ¡°Speak for yourself.¡± Callisto turned and spit out a red gob. She attempted to move forward but her knees wobbled. Leon grunted and stood slowly. The earlier shockwave had nearly knocked them senseless. The fight had gone out of them but that didn¡¯t reassure me. Callisto recovered her stamina quickly.

    I raised my hands in mock surrender and stepped back. I reached for the spell book and attempted to pool the red energy again, in case they showed any sign of aggression.

    ¡°Oh my ears are ringing,¡± Leon muttered. He banged his helmet twice.

    ¡°What did you mean?¡± Callisto asked while lifting her sword in my direction.

    ¡°He¡¯s on our side,¡± Allegra insisted. The blonde came closer while staring me right in the eyes.

    I flattened my lips into a partial frown and sighed.

    ¡°You¡¯re damn right he wanted my hide!¡± Arson helped the conversation along.

    ¡°I wanted pants, you elderly lunatic,¡± I responded loudly. My free hand gestured toward the free hanging member. ¡°This is as awkward for me as it is for you!¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Callisto said. She glanced down and shook her head. ¡°He doesn¡¯t need pants. He needs something bigger. We can trade if he¡¯s got anything that will help us.¡±

    Allegra smirked and mumbled, ¡°Bigger is the least of his problems.¡±

    ¡°Quite far down the list,¡± I agreed.

    Leon turned to the side and grumbled. He crossed one hand over his chest and said a silent prayer. I put the shirt, which still had the book mostly covered inside of it, over my crotch.

    Leon broke the silence. ¡°We did scavenge some ogre gear, right?¡± He sounded as though he was fighting back nausea. ¡°Arson, do we still have any gear from the ogres?¡±

    True to form, he misheard every word but his name. ¡°Beer from the show girls? Where?¡± Arson searched for his exotic dancers.

    I laughed so hard my legs gave out.

 Book 2, Rule 12

    Rule 12

    Silk is Valuable & Spiders Aren¡¯t

    Statement: What is it about being in another form that makes it difficult to think clearly? When I¡¯m Hawthorn, I want to stay as Hawthorn, even if that means having a constant stream of perverted thoughts in my head. Those are simply treated as fuel for the next available opportunity with a willing partner.

    Being Mister Underwood is much the same. Is it an innate desire? Is it part of the magic of those forms? Is it related to the fact that creatures were killed and are somehow using my body to continue life? Or is it something much simpler and more annoying¡ªthat I don¡¯t like being myself. Who I had been¡ªbefore this new world¡ªdidn¡¯t amount to much. He¡¯d hardly lived life. Is this what people who play games feel?When they have a chance to make a new character and leave their old lives behind?

    Weird occurrences weren¡¯t unusual. They were so common that pigs flying could have been considered normal, and weird would be ordering a pizza. I hadn¡¯t shared with them my recent bus trip or even mentioned the flower petals on the signpost still faced my direction.

    Leon and Callisto were in a heated argument. Allegra sat calmly next to me. She didn¡¯t seem to care about our size difference or the fact that her teammates were inches away from pummeling each other. I wanted to root for Callisto but the Lance part of me believed she needed an occasional punch in the face. She always acted as though her ideas were gospel.

    That was the bitterness of our original breakup coming out. Technically, our current status was ¡®co-workers with benefits.¡¯ Not that she knew I was Hawthorn. Based on their conversation, none of them knew I was the dryad-bodied man.

    Post Note: It¡¯s such a weird description. I was a man, but a dryad. Without a tree. Unless you counted my penis. Which, might as well be accurate. It certainly qualified as hardwood from time to time, but it hasn¡¯t sprouted plants or encouraged any growth but its own.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you want to work with him,¡± Leon said casting an armor-clad finger in my direction. His gauntlets jangled more than the rest of his gear. The sound grated on me.

    ¡°We need the help. He¡¯s clearly strong enough. Look!¡± Callisto gestured to the fractured ground. ¡°I don¡¯t care who it is as long as it helps us achieve our goal. We. Need. That. Weapon. He can get us past the door. You saw Allie¡¯s map, there¡¯s no other good way in. And if we make it through this, maybe he¡¯ll be willing to fight the other ogres.¡±

    ¡°We can get past the door. We don¡¯t need a monster. And Hawthorn will fight the ogres.¡±

    ¡°Hawthorn¡¯s dead,¡± Callisto insisted. ¡°He was just as much a monster as this guy. You trusted Hawthorn, so trust this guy if we make a deal.¡±

    Leon dropped his weapon and shield then pulled off his helmet, slamming it to the ground like a football. ¡°I trusted him because he¡¯s Mayor Kent¡¯s son. I had to. You know that. You trusted him because he split your legs every night and you think that puts you in control.¡±

    ¡°Because we needed him. If it kept him close, so what? That¡¯s what I do, I take care of everyone in any way I can manage!¡± Callisto responded.

    I wrinkled my nose and huffed. The best part of their shouting is that I now knew, for sure, that they thought I was dead. Or that Hawthorn was dead. Thinking of myself as separate individuals confused me at times but this way I¡¯d be able to see what people thought about me.

    Additionally, without a shape change I¡¯d never know that they were using me. I mean, I knew. It was obvious. It wasn¡¯t like sex meant we were in love. I¡¯d learned that lesson with Callisto once already, before the world transformed. She did believe sex put her in control. She did believe she knew what was best for everyone.

    Allegra leaned over slightly and whispered, ¡°Can I tell them?

    ¡°Whatever do you mean?¡± I asked.

    ¡°That you¡¯re Hawthorn. And some other, person?¡± Her full lips twitched.

    A shiver traveled down my spine. Allegra knew. Her sketching powers must have somehow presented my name and displayed images tied to me. The idea that she could essentially track me from anywhere served as a cold reminder of how versatile her powers could be.

    Post Note: At this point, I told myself that it wouldn¡¯t matter if Allegra knew about me. Secrets got out. Midge had said they want to be told. I could put more thought into popping their heads like grapes, or simply accept that if someone knew, then it was a shared secret¡ªafter all, there was value to a secret shared.

    ¡°That would ruin my amusement,¡± I said while pointing at them.

    She giggled and nodded.

    The duo in front of me covered a dozen different topics. Arson¡¯s rear stuck in the air as he dug through the cart. He obviously had no interest in their screaming match. I felt impressed that Leon and Callisto had so many reasons to argue. They¡¯d never done this when we grouped together.

    I should have followed them more. It would have been hard to find time between learning about the area, killing ogres, compiling secret stashes, and watching over Stella. Balancing my time in this new world, where we didn¡¯t have the internet to simply review social media commentary, or cars to drive around quicker, had proven difficult.

    Callisto moved on to calling Leon a gelded turtle, with more uncouth terms. He called Callisto a female dog. She insulted Mayor Kent, calling him a short-sighted liar out for his own safety and implied that the only reason he wanted downtown was for control. Leon¡¯s response was to sputter like a child, take off his gauntlets and throw them to the ground too.

    ¡°It still seems wrong,¡± Allegra said, keeping her voice low. ¡°Lying to them.¡±

    ¡°I fail to see how knowing who I am, would achieve the goal we¡¯re here to accomplish.¡±

    ¡°But if she knew you were alive, she¡¯d be better. She¡¯s been tearing herself up for days since I showed them what happened.¡± Allegra shivered.

    I shrugged. ¡°To keep a secret, or tell the unvarnished truth. Either carries risks. What action might they take upon discovering a duplicitous nature?¡±

    That stopped her from talking. We had all hidden parts of our lives in this new world. Allegra¡¯s was tied to the stack of robes she wore. What lay under them, I¡¯d never seen, not even while sneaking. I¡¯d seen Leon out of armor more than I¡¯d ever seen Allegra without a robe.

    She did change them. I knew she hadn¡¯t been wearing the same clothing since we¡¯d met. They changed colors once or twice a day so either she was putting new ones on, or there was magic in the ones she wore. Neither would surprise me, since I¡¯d seen pieces of paper come flying out of the robes during battles.

    I pondered where to go with this line of thinking. While I had firmly set myself on not advertising the link between my forms, I couldn¡¯t outright lie about it either. Deflect, equivocate, use political doublespeak, sure; but not lie.

    ¡°What gave me away?¡±

    ¡°The book. Whenever I sketch you, I see the book. The others have a harder time remembering because of your abilities. We, used to work with a young girl who was a rogue. Hardly anyone even knew her name. They just, forgot. But I have pictures still, and I can sketch people¡¯s cards. Didn¡¯t you know?¡±

    She must be speaking of Little Shade. Unless there had been another sneaky female running around town who died before I came back. There could have been dozens.

    As to her commentary, I shrugged. There had been implications in the past that Allegra knew how much money we all gained, but I¡¯d never directly confirmed how she knew. Most of the time she called it out after a tough boss battle. I¡¯d been more interested in murdering monsters than wondering how she read my information.

    ¡°So, I see all your names. Here.¡± She pulled out a piece of paper and held it up. Lead spiraled across it, drawn by multiple unseen hands. Words formed that were impossible to make out, save for one. It showed my name. Lance Hawthorn Underwood. Next to that were three titles. [Runed Rogue] was still on there, along with [Knife-Eared Exploder] and now [Gentleman Ogre].The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Those are strange titles,¡± I said.

    ¡°They¡¯re all weird. It¡¯s like every single one is a pun or some awkwardly phrased explanation for what we¡¯ve become.¡± She brushed back a strand of hair and pointed to [Knife-Eared Exploder]. ¡°That one showed up after you¡ªHawthorn¡ªblew up.¡± Allegra¡¯s voice lowered even more. ¡°Right about when we¡¯d finished demolishing their breeding hotel, and ran.¡±

    I nodded. That was a fitting description of what I¡¯d done. Titles could be lost too, which I¡¯d learned after the hydra respawned. There¡¯d been a [Wanderer] notice before that. It¡¯d vanished after leaving the stores.

    ¡°I can¡¯t tell what they do. If they¡¯re like equipment, or add value to our abilities. When I try to use my powers to sketch it out they don¡¯t do anything. They¡¯re nothing.¡±

    Callisto¡¯s words grew louder. I looked up from the paper to find her glaring at us. She had her hands on her hips and puffed a strand of unevenly cut hair out of her face. ¡°Allie are you wasting mana?¡±

    Allegra took a sharp breath then the picture on the paper shifted to show the physical status of Callisto and Leon. There were some spots with filled in markers, jagged lines crossed a small part of Callisto¡¯s pencil drawn chest.

    ¡°No, I was checking to see if you needed healing,¡± the blonde answered.

    ¡°Broken rib?¡± I asked, jabbing a meaty finger at the picture of Callisto then pointing toward her. They were fully clothed in the pictures but I¡¯d managed to catch Allegra working on these before.

    Allegra nodded and put two fingers into the painting. She could cause nearly anything to be drawn on the covers and modify them by sinking her hands into the picture and changing the artwork. She¡¯d never let me actually watch the process before.

    Speculation: Maybe she felt the need to share or open up after admitting she¡¯d been spying on me. I¡¯m unsure, and haven¡¯t asked.

    Callisto grunted and clutched her side. Her eyes shut and the jagged lines on Allegra¡¯s drawing faded.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± she said.

    ¡°You were engaged in a shouting match while suffering broken bones? A rib much less? That¡¯s a bit preposterous,¡± I said. Admittedly I could function while missing legs but only because my brain turned off most pain. Never mind all the other problems that should have arisen such as bleeding out, messed up circulation from major arteries, and loss of consciousness. Magic typically responded to logic with a smile and a proud middle finger.

    ¡°So, who are you?¡± Callisto asked.

    ¡°Maybe I¡¯m an exiled prince,¡± I muttered. Maybes didn¡¯t count as lying. ¡°Or maybe I simply wanted some pants!¡± I hadn¡¯t let go of the issue because I was still buck naked. It didn¡¯t matter how many times I repeated it, no one had offered to help me. The ground was cold against my rear, but my feet didn¡¯t register the chill.

    I found the temperature changes interesting enough to take note of. Maybe ogre feet were devoid of sensation. There were all sorts of ways to use that kind of knowledge in future fights.

    ¡°Pants. I¡¯ve got pants.¡± Arson stood up in his cart and it rocked. He rubbed his chin and stared at the garment in his hands. ¡°I¡¯ve got size thirties. I¡¯ve got some twenty-sixes for that scrawny fellow. And belts. You need these forty eights?¡± He bent back over and threw objects out of the cart. ¡°No those won¡¯t work. Extra extra large sweats?¡±

    Arson¡¯s declaration of carrying pants for the scrawny fellow set me back a step. Allegra glanced at me. Callisto closed her eyes for a long time. I brushed it off and pretended to pursue my single minded goal of clothing.

    ¡°Extra extra large will do,¡± I shouted.

    ¡°What?¡± Arson asked.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I simplified.

    ¡°I¡¯m perfectly straight. Not that I don¡¯t admire the work and effort put in. Not that that means anything. Living in the wild west. Abs on a skinny man are like tits on a fat girl, they don¡¯t count!¡± He stomped and flung a pair of sweatpants in my direction.

    I immediately stood and put them on. Callisto and Leon looked the other way.

    Allegra¡¯s eyes drifted up to meet mine. ¡°It¡¯s for artistic reasons¡­¡±

    ¡°So who are you?¡± Callisto asked.

    Being partly dressed, at last, I felt more civilized. My hand clasped over a huge pectoral and I gave a short nod. ¡°Greetings. I¡¯m Mister Underwood. I¡¯m a bit of a freelance exterminator. If you¡¯d kindly point me in the direction of the arachnids of these woods, I will go about ensuring their untimely demise!¡±

    My first meeting with Leon, Callisto, and Allegra, had been more of a ¡°come with me if you want to live¡± moment. Leon had showed up, asked if I was Mayor Kent¡¯s son, and pulled me into the world at large. This time I got to introduce myself from a position of more power and knowledge. That was another argument for wearing the Mister Underwood persona.

    ¡°See?¡± Callisto gestured at Leon. ¡°We can hire him. You know how it goes. The less human they are, the more they have to obey their compulsions. All of them honor deals. Those stupid elves Mayor Kent has growing the fence made a deal for cookies. That weird mermaid at the city pool keeps fresh water flowing in if we keep those goblins out. They have to honor deals.¡±

    I perked at that mention. My nature did have rules, but I¡¯d never thought about deals being one of them. Lying, certainly. Compulsions, as well. But making a bargain and honoring it? I¡¯d never considered simply stepping out after making a pact with someone.

    ¡°Yeah, obeying compulsions. Like Hawthorn needing to bend you over every bench in the city,¡± Leon retorted. Allegra touched her piece of paper, the knight doubled and started heaving.

    He stood. Allegra twiddled her fingers on the picture again. Leon doubled over and heaved.

    None of the others said a damned thing. I hadn¡¯t ever noticed their apparent disdain for Leon. He¡¯d never bothered me, aside from being so polite. Maybe that was simply to Hawthorn, because he was ¡°Mayor Kent¡¯s son.¡±

    ¡°We should be more professional,¡± Allegra said. ¡°It¡¯s rude to air our laundry in front of a stranger.¡±

    ¡°I doubt he cares. Look at him, he¡¯s smiling. One of those creepy smiles like Hawthorn did. Used to¡ª¡± He bent again as Allegra made him throw up a third time.

    I wiped the amused smile off my face. Keeping my expression neutral took a lot of work.

    Post Note: Honestly, they repeated themselves a dozen more times before anything meaningful happened. I shall cut short here because Leon obviously didn¡¯t like me, Allegra knew my secret and felt awkward, and Callisto would use me until I served no purpose. As for Arson, he probably grumbled softly and but no one heard him¡ªnot even me. I did smell some foul farts though. So, using a reference that¡¯s older than I am and useless in a fantasy world, we shall fast forward.

    Leon crossed his arms and sat on the edge of the wagon. His lips puckered and cheeks were tight. I could have dipped him in lemon juice and ended up with a sweeter expression. If I could find enough lemons in this messed up world, then dipping him would be extremely easy.

    I laughed and focused on what Callisto had been saying. ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s what you want?¡±

    I nodded.

    ¡°That seems, a small favor.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been advised that a better pair of pants might be available with enough silk. Therefore I only wish their weavings. Ideally, without the guts of their former spinners. In exchange, I provide muscle.¡±

    ¡°And where are you going to store it? Those spiders are huge. And you want to use silk for pants? That¡¯s going to take a lot. Or something magical.¡± Her eyes narrowed in thought. Maybe if I got enough she could get a special T-shirt that didn¡¯t have holes in it constantly.

    Post Note: The idea of showing up from the dead and going ¡°I got you a more durable shirt for our two-month bang-o-versery did have appeal. Mostly because of the sheer potential for confusion on her know-it-all face.

    Still, I hadn¡¯t figured out how to carry anything in this form. I suspected the spiders wouldn¡¯t be small harmless creatures. They¡¯d probably be big, small, and every size in between. In a modern era we¡¯d use pesticides and flame throwers. I doubted any of them had skills for creating fires out of nowhere. Additionally, Allegra¡¯s papers were extremely flammable.

    ¡°And?¡± I asked, prompting them to move forward.

    ¡°We¡¯ll need your strength for more than the boulder,¡± Callisto said.

    Her wants didn¡¯t matter so much as completing the end goal quickly. They would finish up here, I¡¯d take the webs on the bus, hopefully see if pants could be made, and probably still get to our home town before them. Then ¡°Hawthorn¡± would live again. Or maybe I¡¯d become Lance, stumbling out of a dark alley all wounded. Lots of possibilities. Either way, success here would help keep Stella safe.

    Provided it hadn¡¯t already become too late.

    ¡°And?¡± I asked. ¡°You have needs. I have ability. Make yourself clear to me, rather than shouting at the sardine-scented man.¡± My head tilted toward Leon.

    He shook his head but lifted an arm to smell. The scent of sour fish worsened. I scraped my tongue against my teeth to try and get rid of the taste. It didn¡¯t help, but I did take note of the odd sharper teeth sticking out. Allegra¡¯s laugh distracted me from the brief confusion.

    ¡°How long can we hire you for? Are you able to help clean up a city to the south? It¡¯s a few days of your time.¡±

    Callisto wanted me to help until the ogre king was dead. They did not seem to factor in my current form. She likely only saw brute strength. I worried that whatever magic he had that kept the dumber minions enthralled, might work on this body as well.

    ¡°There¡¯s a reason I¡¯m not in the town.¡± I winced. This would be dangerously close to lying. It would also require them to connect their own dots from the earlier glibness about being an exiled prince. ¡°And despite being an ogre, I¡¯ve my own goals. Our ways will part once you leave this forest, successfully, with whatever you seek.¡±

    She frowned. Eventually we settled upon a reasonable ¡°fair¡± exchange. Arson would provide me a trashcan to fill with webbing. They would help collect it until the bin was full and spider free. I¡¯d had fun making sure no spiders would be counted toward filling the container. The task itself would suck and probably take most of my sanity but magical pants should be worth the effort. I dreamed of the possible special effects they might come with.

    I would punch this blockade they¡¯d run into with my charged fist. They were likely even more upset about losing Hawthorn since an explosive rune spell could have cleared most rubble.

    We sealed the deal with a spit and shake. Callisto¡¯s idea, not mine. After we shook I wiped my hand on the ground carefully and pretended nothing had happened. It didn¡¯t matter to me what the terms were because I would have gone anyway. This was simply getting more out of the bargain than originally expected.

    An hour later, we were well into the woods. The others let me lead the way. As Hawthorn, I did all the scouting anyway so it didn¡¯t bother me.

    I reached for webs and plucked the material. A kind of clicking chitter I¡¯d never heard before filled the air. My head tilted as I searched for the source of noise.

    Something small leapt on my bare chest, I glanced down to see a spider about the size of my palm. Tiny pointy feet were barely felt as it jabbed my skin with jerky motions. Its body reared for another attack and I squished it.

    My fist came up gooey. Two breaths later the dead monster turned into a yellow orb. I frowned. These creatures were hardly worth the effort.

    ¡°You just walked into them.¡± Callisto sounded confused.

    ¡°Correct.¡± I turned and found them standing a few feet back, their weapons up and at the ready. ¡°Spider silk has value. Spiders do not.¡±

    My face stretched wide with a grin. I slowly came to realize that Mister Underwood was a jovial personality.

 Book 2, Rule 13

    Rule 13

    Squish Squishables & Use Sticks

    Statement: I¡¯d heard of this thing called LARPing back in high school. They were kids that dressed up like vampires¡ªor, something¡ªand shouted, ¡°I cast fireball¡± at each other in the dark corner of a park. Maybe they threw dice at each other. What I was doing by being Mister Underwood, or Hawthorn, wasn¡¯t that different. The only redeeming feature was the fact that I actually had abilities in this new world, and nearly everyone else had died. There¡¯s no reason to be embarrassed if everyone who might care is dead.

    Smaller spiders continually attempted to bite me. They failed. The sticky feeling of dead bodies refused to fade even after they¡¯d become experience orbs. It aggravated me.

    ¡°We¡¯re going the wrong way,¡± Leon complained.

    ¡°And?¡± That question made me happy. I decided I¡¯d use that word frequently with this form. With one question, I implied the other person was stupid, avoided long winded phrasing to simple thoughts, and reminded them to get to the point.

    The woods were dark. Not because of a lack of sunlight. Morning had poked over the horizon shortly after my fight with the trio. Thick webbing lined the trees. This would have been the stuff of nightmares in our old world. Now, it was just a jaunty trip through the park, where any of the other three might die in minutes.

    Luckily, they had Allegra. She could cure poison as easily as any other defect. Her mana wouldn¡¯t last forever though.

    I used a stick to poke the webs. The others stayed behind in a huddled mass. A very effective and highly experienced, but still huddled mass. I almost envied Leon, having the two women pressed to him. He acted oblivious in his plate armor, and shield lifted.

    These webs were tiny and broke easily. I couldn¡¯t see how anyone might make pants out of them. I wondered if this had been a trap by the demon. He might have prompted me to explore this part of the park to be devoured by some intelligent spider person.

    The thought made me sour. I¡¯d seen artwork featuring half-naked females attached to bulbous spider bodies with black widow markings, that is, the giant red hourglass which alluded to unspeakable levels of poison.

    Mister Underwood, me as a hulking brute with apparently tough skin and stupid levels of strength, didn¡¯t care.

    ¡°Are there bigger ones?¡± I asked.

    No one answered. I turned, expecting to find a horde of pony-sized spiders and my companions trussed in webs. They were fine, just distracted. Allegra looked green. Greener. Her robes were already an off-color of brackish yellow which blended in with Leon¡¯s aura. Callisto stood in the back and tugged her hair.

    I tried again, with a bit more emphasis. ¡°Are. There. Larger. Arachnids?¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Callisto shouted from the back. She jumped, as though her own voice had startled her.

    ¡°Bigger spiders, better webs,¡± I said.

    I had no firm proof of that. The closest logic I had to back it was our game-like world. Harder monsters rewarded more orbs. Harder spiders should give more webs. It simply made sense. They¡¯d have thicker webbing too, or they would probably be unable to stand on the strands. I followed that logic further and realized bigger spiders would probably need sturdier trees. Or they might be ground based.

    Post Note: I ran through a whole host of questions as well. What did spiders eat? Did they simply spawn when no one was looking (as the ogres and mini-orcs seemed capable of doing)? If this place were a dungeon, what would the boss creature be? Were there strange one off creatures in here, such as the hydra, which terrorized main street at night?

    Branches behind me cracked. The webbing in my hand wiggled. A few spiders, which I¡¯d been ignoring due to their ineffective biting, dropped off me and scurried away. Allegra¡¯s arm lifted and her eyes fluttered. Her lips mouthed a word that never came out.

    ¡°There¡¯s one,¡± Leon said for her.

    I slowly turned back around. A row of jeweled eyes glittered in front of me. Below them were two fangs that dripped with unidentified goo. Behind that hovered a large unseemly abdomen covered in purple and green fuzz. It chittered.

    I did what any sensible ogre with a stick full of webbing would do, I bopped him on the skull. He, and I¡¯m guessing on the gender, did not seem pleased by the aggressive move. Its mandibles wiggled and a clicking noise like a gas stove echoed through the forest. Behind me, one of the party members hit the ground in a rush.

    It screamed like an angry baby gargling venom. My face scrunched as I tried to understand how spiders could make noise at all. It lunged.

    Post Note: Clearly, not sensible. If I¡¯d been Hawthorn, I would have used an explosive rune first and stabbed second.

    Large teeth jabbed. They sank in. Flesh burned. I¡¯d heal. My free hand reached for one of the creature¡¯s legs. I squeezed.

    It reared back, pulling those nasty jaws out of my chest. With the other hand, I punched the creature before it could escape. My shoulder muscles strained and the monster¡¯s body slammed sideways, tearing limb from cephalothorax.

    Post Note: That¡¯s the middle part. These were closer to spiders than tarantulas. Technically spiders are made of all sorts of fancy named bits. In between those ugly eyes and their fat bobbing abdomen, is a framework that all the legs are attached to (prosoma). Muscles twist under the belly letting them operate eight limbs. It¡¯s really quite amazing when people aren¡¯t screaming.

    ¡°Kill it!¡± Callisto shouted. Her voice lifted to a shriek. ¡°Kill it with fire!¡±

    ¡°No firah,¡± Allegra mumbled from the floor. Her accent slurred worse than normal.

    ¡°Oh dear,¡± I responded.

    It survived my punch. The creature¡¯s legs were trashed. My chest still ached as the world blurred. A slice of the rising sun burned in my eyes, making me lose track of the spider.

    I needed a bigger stick. That much made sense. There were crashing sounds and the pink haze shifted in intensity. My chest felt like a fire had crawled into it and turned everything to char. Pressure grabbed my arm. I lashed with my other hand and felt something fuzzy squish. Warmth splashed across my face and side.

    ¡°Everyone prone to be squished promptly stand aside!¡± In my head that had been ¡°get out of the way if you don¡¯t want to get hit.¡± That was the best warning I could give. As always, the disconnect between my inner voice and Mister Underwood¡¯s deep rumbling tones made me pause.

    I punched another creature. Something ventured nearby. A hand fumbled blindly into the sweatpants¡¯ pocket for my book but it was too awkward. Those fingers were getting harder to feel. My ears were flushed by a rushing river sound. Tin echoed making me dizzy. The fiery sensation crawled up toward neck muscles.

    ¡°This is nothing. I will restore myself and visit doom upon your eight legged brethren!¡±

    Something else squished. The wet sound preceded a soft cry of dying enemies. Partially blind, I found a bigger stick to pummel anything moving. Not that I could tell what might be moving. For a handful of pain wracked breaths I swung my stick at creatures making noise.

    ¡°I hope you¡¯re alive out there!¡±

    I couldn¡¯t hear any response. Crickets could have chirped wildly in my ears and they¡¯d still be quieter than blood pounding.

    The first sound to make it through was branches cracking. I swung and heard another spider¡¯s dying scream. A wild grin pulled at my cheeks. The stick I hefted felt rather sizable. Not a simple branch or a hulking tree, but it had a comfortable weight to it.

    ¡°This is delightful!¡± I shouted and swung again. My body heaved to one side under the sudden shift. Something heavy barred my way. I stepped back and waited for healing to clear my blurry vision.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    Time passed. There were no more sounds and I couldn¡¯t feel the burning. My vision slowly returned to normal. I held the large weapon upright the entire time. My feet wove and pounded the earth until the ground had been stomped flat. I couldn¡¯t feel the cold but the former lumps of dirt were gone.

    Pieces of large spiders littered the landscape. Some collapsed into yellow orbs. Smaller spiders scurried among the larger bodies, taking bites of their deceased companions. Trees were splintered. Bushes mangled.

    I had a large chunk of young wood in my hands. Guts strewn up and down its length, painting it a purple reddish color.

    ¡°That is disturbing,¡± I mumbled and dropped the stick.

    Away from the carnage, Leon knelt behind his shield. His glowing aura faded to a mere soft glow. The women were behind him with Callisto holding an unconscious Allegra. The blonde¡¯s head in Callisto¡¯s lap would have spawned all manner of lewd thoughts at any other time.

    Right now, I did another circle, huffing, and staring at the dismembered corpses. They flickered and became lights. Smaller spiders, those that had been feasting on their dead relatives, scurried away once their meal disappeared.

    ¡°How many was that?¡± My chest felt tight and body still woozy. Both legs ached.

    ¡°A lot,¡± Leon said.

    ¡°Can you do that again?¡± Callisto shouted. ¡°Only¡­ let Allegra help you. If she assists we can get some of the orbs and money. We need to catch up to your strength.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°Levels. We¡¯re levels behind you,¡± Leon muttered. He stood on shaky limbs and used the shield as a prop.

    I huffed and stomped the stick I¡¯d been using as a weapon. It cracked under the pressure. Being a new person also gave me room to ask about stupid concepts that I hadn¡¯t been willing to talk about while being Hawthorn.

    ¡°Odd. I¡¯ve never found this world to have anything resembling levels,¡± I said.

    Callisto stood. Her swords sheathed and slid to one side. Allegra lay on the ground, mumbling. She would be cold soon.

    My ignorant coworker-with-benefits pointed at the plate wearing fool in front of her. ¡°That¡¯s just Leon. He sees orbs as levels. He sees everything like characters from a game. Allie has her pencil markings. We all see it a bit different.¡±

    ¡°And yourself?¡±

    ¡°None of your business.¡±

    ¡°Chess pieces. She sees us all as chess pieces,¡± Leon said while stepping away from the black-haired woman.

    I smiled. That fit perfectly with my understanding of Callisto. It also helped clear up a lot of the confusion I¡¯d had over this situation. We were game characters to Leon. It was probably a lie he told himself to hold onto sanity in a mad world. Allegra paid more attention to her art than reality. That might be her shield.

    And Callisto kept herself coldly separated. She cared for the number of pieces on the board. During our first dungeon together, she¡¯d asked someone to buy a healing potion, but not for herself. She¡¯d wanted the healing item to help those farming the lands.

    Post Note: During this, I had a few flashes of introspection. They¡¯re hard to summarize in simple terms. If they saw us as art, game pieces, or characters with levels and other nonsense, what did that say of my own views? That they were to be used toward my own goals. That they weren¡¯t to be trusted.

    ¡°Ah. You¡¯re seeing power through an artifact of some sort.¡± I nodded. The answer came from my time as Hawthorn, but it would help Mister Underwood seem smarter if I made the leap. Plus Leon sharing Callisto¡¯s views answered a long-standing question I¡¯d had. Though it brought up another conundrum; they felt okay sharing this information with a stranger but had never once thought to explain to Hawthorn.

    There were a lot of possibilities and asking too many questions would raise their suspicion of me. Or in reverse, if they asked me too many questions, I would become suspicious of them.

    Questions to figure out:

    <ul>

    <li>Why did they share any knowledge with me?</li>

    <li>They clearly had issues with Mayor Kent, why?</li>

    <li>Had Callisto been faking pleasure during sex?</li>

    </ul>

    The last one was more about my ego than an actual key to surviving the world.

    ¡°What about you? Does being an ogre mess with you?¡± Callisto asked.

    It was time for another vague response based on truth. ¡°I¡¯m not a normal ogre. Not by any measure. As you may gather, being more refined than the others you have likely encountered, does come with drawbacks.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t answer the question,¡± Callisto said.

    I frowned. Allegra started to stir but her movements were sluggish. Leon paced the area checking webbing for smaller spiders. He squished a few while we talked. Callisto guarded the blonde.

    ¡°It is what it is. I only have¡ª¡± My words stuttered. I¡¯d been doing so well in avoiding lies but almost trapped myself in one. ¡°My goals include gathering webs and helping your trio get the weapon you seek. After that we shall part ways.¡±

    Leon turned to Callisto. She shook her head at whatever expression he wore. I took a deep breath and gathered spider webs. Without focusing on ¡°Mister Underwood¡¯s¡± mission they might suspect me of something more sinister. Callisto could expect me to be a plant by the Ogre King.

    The possibilities were endless and I told myself there were three ways through this mess. One would be to simply walk away. That left behind Stella and was therefore unacceptable. Two was to keep playing the game and pretend to be another person. If we could survive this adventure, then we¡¯d part ways and they¡¯d be none the wiser.

    Or I could ruin all my fun by revealing the link between me and Hawthorn, which would also reveal the link between me and Lance. Then we¡¯d be bogged down by social drama and that would be annoying.

    The garbage can Arson had provided us, from some magical storage space on his cart, was a third of the way full.

    ¡°Well. Let us return to the hunt. There are more squishables in need of squishing. Once the can is full of clean silk, we can go on to this barrier of yours,¡± I said. I was still vague on the barrier. On a good day, my head was full of a dozen suspicions, vague plans, and attempts at deciphering what I¡¯d been living through. Leaving little room to care about minor details like the wall and how I¡¯d best punch it.

    The others got to cleaning. With the spiders dead, only webbing and plant life remained. Callisto did most of the work while Leon stood guard of Allegra. She knelt in front of a piece of paper and studied the pencil etchings. Every few seconds they would shift to something new but impossible to distinguish without standing over her shoulder.

    We moved to another area. The moment we touched a web more spiders burst forth.

    I quickly smacked two small ones and brought my fist down on top of a larger spider¡¯s head. It reeled under the blow. Callisto sneaked in behind and sliced down with a sword. More critters filled the gap.

    ¡°There¡¯s too many,¡± Callisto shouted.

    ¡°Fifteen!¡± Allegra responded.

    I spun to the side but felt sluggish. My other forms moved with more grace and speed. With every attack the strengths and weaknesses between my forms became more obvious.

    My fists joined together and I hammered a pony-sized spider. Its head popped off and body slid forward. More lumbered in behind the dying one. Bigger spiders moved slower than the smaller ones. The tiny arachnids were hungry savages with no brains. In that way, they were stupider than the mini-orcs.

    In a normal dungeon these three would never have pulled so many monsters. Callisto was careful about walking into large packs. It helped that I could scout. They must be off their game with me¡ªor, Hawthorn¡ªdead.

    ¡°Weren¡¯t you here before?¡± I demanded.

    ¡°We took a different road,¡± Callisto responded. She flickered past me in a rush and I heard a monster cry out. ¡°You led us this way! I assumed you knew where you were going.¡±

    I didn¡¯t. They had let me lead the way. That made us all idiots in my book. Of course, I¡¯d believed myself to be capable of sneaking in this form. Ogres were not made for stealth.

    ¡°This is for your stupid webbing!¡± she shouted.

    Two more spiders died. Leon thrust his sledge hammer into the air and light flashed. A dozen smaller critters I hadn¡¯t even seen fell out of the trees around us. My feet pounded the ground and I squished as many as possible while they were stunned. Their bodies popped into a grimy paste on my toes.

    I stopped my rampage briefly and mourned the foulness of these pants. I already needed something cleaner. It wasn¡¯t simply dead monsters, they turned into orbs. But their guts occasionally lingered. That feeling of grossness never really went away, and my stomps caused the soft earth to squish like mud.

    ¡°Most foul. Most incredibly foul. How I detest this wilderness. Give me the city,¡± I muttered to myself while fighting monsters.

    My body healed the superficial wounds quickly enough. The other three had their own troubles. Allegra continued to provide support from the rear. Some of the orbs would fly toward her satchel while others floated to Leon¡¯s helmet or Callisto¡¯s belt. Their artifacts were different from mine.

    Post Note: No one questioned why most of the orbs disappeared into my pants. Not into the pants, but inside. The spell book banged against my groin but that was easy enough to ignore. It was like having an extremely bulky cell phone in my pocket, while fighting nightmare fuel. There were larger concerns than an occasional pinch of flesh.

    We came upon a thick bundle of webbing. I sniffed and couldn¡¯t smell anything different about this mob. Strings flowed up. It reminded me of kites in the city park, when I¡¯d been a much younger boy, before Mom had passed to cancer.

    ¡°What are these?¡± I pointed to the hundred floating strings.

    ¡°Those are also spiders.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± I paused and blinked. My feelings were mixed on what I was seeing. Spiders hovered above us. They were extremely small and their legs stretched wide. ¡°They can fly. That seems remarkably unfair.¡±

    I grabbed the string-sized bits of webbing and snapped them. A hundred tiny spiders crawled out of the thicker pocket I¡¯d been staring at. They came in waves, each bigger than the last as the bulge of webbing deflated. My mouth puckered. They had egg sacs.

    ¡°Burn it with fire!¡± Callisto shouted.

    These spiders were even smaller than the ones who normally attacked me. I felt disgusted. Inside the sac were the webbed remains of a body. It might have been human. It could have been an elf or some other poor creature. My stomach churned. The smell hit me harder than the hydra¡¯s lair with the carcasses of a dozen dead people. Hawthorn hadn¡¯t cared, but this form was absolutely repulsed by the scent.

    ¡°It¡¯s coming,¡± Allegra whispered. She was close enough for me to hear.

    Leon turned to face the direction our paper prone medic pointed.

    I held still and waited for everyone to lose track of me. Stealth came as second nature when being Lance and Hawthorn. I¡¯d nearly reached a point where I could tell when monsters noticed me or didn¡¯t. Normally they only saw me when creatures were being murdered.

    My efforts failed. A huge spider, bigger than any we¡¯d fought so far, charged from the bushes, clicking and crying like a confused baby. It ignored Leon and ran straight for me.

    That normally didn¡¯t happen. Most of the time I¡¯d walk by monsters and they¡¯d ignore me.

    This one had teeth easily twice the size of the one that had sent me into a rage. Its legs appeared reflective as if they¡¯d been coated by metal plating. All of its eyes glowed red and their image lingered even when I blinked and braced for impact.

    It¡¯d seen me. Crows could, birds of any sort, but never before had a bug noticed me without outside assistance. Then I realized, the tradeoff for all this size and power was an utter lack of stealth abilities.

    ¡°Ah. Fecal matter,¡± I said, as the biggest spider I¡¯d ever laid eyes on reared on hind legs right above my head.

 Book 2, Rule 14

    Rule 14

    Smart Monsters & Scripted Monsters Suck

    Statement: Since returning to this world I¡¯ve noticed different levels of intelligence in the monsters we fight. Some are clearly stupid. They have no brains and perform maybe three repetitive attacks. Their traits are always the same. It might as well be the same creature cloned a million times over¡ªand with magic, it may very well be exactly that.

    Then there are smarter creatures. Stronger ones. Less... Cookie-cutter I suppose. These creatures are rarely bosses in dungeons. Monsters like the Ogre King, and this spider I¡¯m about to describe, aren¡¯t simplistic. That makes them unpredictable¡ªand that is something I don¡¯t like.

    When faced with large, gross, and unfriendly doom, I had two choices. Wet myself and cower in a corner, or commence with the murdering. I¡¯ve run away to live another day, but rarely found time or sanity to wet myself like any normal person should.

    Callisto shrieked. It was as though her mind had clicked off and all that remained was ¡°spider, kill it with fire.¡±

    Leon held up his shield. The creature brought mandibles down. I wiped the frown off my face and fumbled in a pocket for my spell book. It reached me before I could get red energy pooled. I curved so my shoulder would take the brunt; there the muscle was the thickest, and seemed to be toughest based on Callisto¡¯s earlier strikes.

    ¡°Dieeeeeee.¡± Callisto charged. Her chain mail jangled loosely under the hole riddled T-shirt.

    I ran right to distract the monster from her reckless charge.

    It stayed fixated on me. At least, I think it did. The creature¡¯s eyes were utterly inhuman and impossible to follow. It loomed over me by a good eight or nine feet. My body continued to steer the creature¡¯s attention so Callisto would be under its weakest parts.

    She jabbed up with both swords. I kept my arms wide and prepared to capture any limbs or jaws that came my way. The boss lurched forward and I managed to grab one of the side arms right behind the jaws. It bent toward me. Liquid-like acid burned as it dripped onto my skin. The smell of charred flesh filled my nose. I ignored it. Allegra could assist my natural healing, if we survived.

    Bits of dark material flaked off its underside. I strained to give them a quick glance but couldn¡¯t make out much detail. That served as another defect, this form didn¡¯t have the natural night vision of my other selves.

    The beast tore right. My grip on the forearm stayed strong and ripped off part of the limb but it still escaped. The monster, for lack of a better way to phrase it, pissed a stream of webbing all over the direction of my party.

    The small material that flaked off the creature earlier rocked and unfolded.

    ¡°Adds!¡± Leon shouted.

    I snorted. Now was not the time to find this situation funny but I had no other way to express the sheer lunacy of this situation. Not only had the boss dropped more baby spiders, it had put down enough web to lock my team in place.

    ¡°Oh my fucking god!¡± Callisto¡¯s arms jerked to shake off the nastiness that had spilled from above.

    The smaller spiders moved slowly. We needed a wide area attack to clear them. I hadn¡¯t tried my explosive fist since our initial clash but now would be the best time. I kept an arm out for the boss and reached into my pocket for the spell book. It took too long. I needed better clothes and cords to bind the book.

    Baby spiders crawled on the webbing. The large one stepped away from us and seemed drained. I used two fingers to pull the pages apart and slid my index finger over the first thick page. Energy pooled.

    It would take a few seconds for it to reach critical mass. I hoped only five or so, the same amount of time the explosive took when arming after attachment. Then I could hopefully hit something and watch as pieces of the landscape and monsters turned into chunks. My ears stung and neck flushed. The weight of my spell book in one pocket hardly registered anymore.

    Callisto broke free before my special attack could go off. She kicked two of the crawling critters, and tore webbing to regain movement. The spider overlord watched us. I could see its jaws twitching in the dark shadows between trees.

    ¡°Murder. Red. Sun. Decaying filth!¡± She spoke gibberish and swung her sword uselessly. The small spiders ignored her badly aimed strikes.

    ¡°Kindly get to cover!¡± I shouted as I leapt into the air.

    Callisto glanced my way and ran toward Allegra. Leon had managed to move despite the webbing, but his body was still encased. My fist came down on the ground.

    The world rippled. Ears popped. Vision blurred. Dirt flew as the shockwave passed through the ground. Baby spiders died in droves. They spun in circles, splatted against trees, and lay on their backs twitching.

    I huffed. The move had drained my energy to zero and I felt sluggish. The arm I¡¯d punched with was one of the regrown limbs. Blood trickled from the shoulder and my fingers bent at odd angles.

    The boss spider wobbled toward us on shaky legs. Callisto shook off the daze even quicker and charged the monster. Her swords banged out a succession of hits upon the creature¡¯s sturdy plating.

    She¡¯d finally snapped. I couldn¡¯t care about her mental health right now. Whatever shiny material protected our enemy¡¯s legs could brush off her swords with more ease than my own flesh. That probably meant its jaws could pierce me with even greater ease than the pony-sized spiders we¡¯d been fighting.

    I needed to get back in there and make sure the monster didn¡¯t set sights on anyone else while they recovered. Everyone needed to survive this battle. We had more monsters to kill and a weapon to find.

    Post Note: I wasn¡¯t concerned about their well-being¡ªat all. They were of greater use to me alive. At times, I feel I write these things to convince myself, than anyone else.

    Callisto continued striking. More adds fell. Leon sluggishly moved forward with the bundle of webbing around him. Allegra was still almost fully encased. Her eyes rolled back to the whites and the half-formed cocoon somehow continued to grow despite the leader spider no longer spitting thread.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Our healer had to be freed. I staggered over and fumbled for the spell book with my undamaged hand. With Callisto¡¯s rage we¡¯d need another big explosion. The webs were too tight and gross. Their edges sticky were closer to clay than actual spider webs.

    The monster chittered behind me. Its feet were quiet, but the predatory growl couldn¡¯t be disguised. I twitched briefly and resumed clearing Allegra¡¯s wrappings.

    ¡°Get it!¡± Callisto demanded.

    ¡°It¡¯s ignoring me. He¡¯s got too much agro,¡± Leon shouted. Their weapons clanked. A bright flash illuminated the area but I¡¯d been facing away from the source. ¡°The little ones. Get the little ones!¡±

    My hand landed wrong. Allegra¡¯s clothes were wet and mushy. I grabbed and tore with the wounded arm. My hand didn¡¯t close right and I could barely make a fist. I reached for another clump and grabbed off-colored yellow material. It felt different.

    Allegra lifted a hand and pulled the webbing around her face. A dozen emotions flickered over her features. Rage. Embarrassment. More anger, her eyes glanced to a sight behind me. They swiftly turned to fear as she dug into the satchel for paper. I let go of whatever I¡¯d grabbed and nodded. Allegra could figure out what to do on her own.

    Pressure hit my back, driving me to my knees. Liquid drenched my skin. My muscles burned and flesh tore. The spider boss had returned and taken advantage of my ill placed focus.

    Post Note: We¡¯d been fighting lots of spiders, but this was my first boss battle as an ogre. I was still too used to being ignored by monsters. As Hawthorn, I could have freed her with ease, copped a feel, winked, and dashed back out to the big bad creature.

    I meant to scream in rage. It came out, ¡°That¡¯s uncivilized¡± as my wounded hand smacked the monster. It reeled but stayed on all eight legs. Below it, a slow moving army of baby spiders loomed. Nearly invisible in the greater creature¡¯s shadow.

    The world blurred. Allegra squeaked behind me. I heard the rustling of paper as she did, whatever. Callisto uselessly slashed with her blades. She needed sharper weapons.

    I punched again and let the second rune of red energy finish completing. My skin itched as it crawled down my index finger and back up.

    The boss clicked and pulled back. I swung again, keeping my strikes from going too wide. The world balanced awkwardly between hazy and normal vision. I had to believe Allegra worked frantically to heal me.

    It chittered or whatever term applies to enraged giant spiders. I bellowed back. Callisto spoke in tongues. My fist, complete with explosive power, launched an uppercut. I aimed straight for a red dot glowing on the creature¡¯s face.

    ¡°Down!¡± Leon yelled.

    My shoulder muscles heaved. The wind sang as my fist pounded through the short distance. Hip and leg muscles screamed as they pushed off the ground to extend the punch. It connected. The air rippled. My already faltering hearing turned to pure ringing.

    I couldn¡¯t see. The last punch had gone off well above my head and I had nothing to protect me from the sudden force. My arms waved searching for purchase or a landmark.

    Something touched my back. I tensed, expecting a spider but felt soft tiny hands pressing against me.

    They didn¡¯t put enough pressure on me to push or pull. My pants were likely still on but the bottoms felt loose. I relied on a faintly distinguishable smell of metals and fish. Leon and Callisto had to be nearby. A dull ache in my arms spoke of my explosive spell¡¯s backlash. I¡¯d used it twice with the good arm and once with the bad. They both hurt so I knew that these spells couldn¡¯t be used often.

    ¡°Old hon,¡± someone said. Their words were hard to hear over the ringing.

    ¡°What?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Hold on.¡± Allegra¡¯s voice came through clearly the second time. Or maybe the third, and went fuzzy again. ¡°The hide ear is bed.¡±

    I understood where Arson was coming from now. Nothing sounded right. I grunted and shook my head and that only made the echoing sound worse. My neck popped and shoulders rolled.

    ¡°Pardon me. My hearing is temporarily out of order. Please tap once for yes, twice for no.¡± That seemed like a fair tactic to use in battle. ¡°Are there monsters in need of squishing?¡±

    I put up my fists how I imagined a boxer would when ready to fight.

    Allegra¡¯s hand tapped once. Then tapped twice. ¡°It¡¯s all over brown.¡± Her words started clear before becoming obstructed again. I wished my eyes worked but they felt listless.

    ¡°My lack of auditory clarity is very disconcerting.¡± I put thought into the hesitation between spots. ¡°There are monsters. I don¡¯t need to squish them any longer. Did I infer that correctly?¡± To be honest, I wasn¡¯t sure what the word ¡®infer¡¯ meant. Apparently, understand was too mundane a word for my current scholarly brute form.

    My eyesight returned. Hearing next. Allegra frantically scribbled on paper. The sound of pencil markings in our otherwise muted surroundings made me feel disconnected. For a moment I was in school again, taking a test for some state mandated review. Then it faded, and reality came back.

    In front of me lay dead and dying monsters. I paused and surveyed the landscape. These eyes were worse at finding enemies but I felt certain the only creatures moving were the boss monster and Callisto. Even Leon sat still.

    The big spider¡¯s body had flipped over. Three legs were heavily wounded and unmoving. The remaining two legs twitched and blood oozed from the wounds. Callisto engaged in one-sided hacking, chopping the unarmored underbelly with a savage smile on her face that made even me pause.

    ¡°There¡¯s no more,¡± Allegra repeated. ¡°Did you hear me Ha, Mister Underwood?¡±

    I frowned. She¡¯d almost given away my other name. Keeping secrets was hard enough without other people spilling them for me.

    ¡°Was that me?¡± I asked with utter confusion. I¡¯d launched an attack with a huge amount of force behind it but didn¡¯t expect these results.

    ¡°Some. Leon grabbed two legs. Your blast tore the limbs off and lifted him a few feet into the air. He¡¯s¡­¡± Paper rustled. I turned to see Allegra frowning at one of her sheets. She tilted it back and forth. ¡°Dazed. Very dazed. Probably a concussion, but that don¡¯t mean a lot when magic¡¯s involved.¡±

    ¡°Are you going to heal him?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Eventually. He¡¯s not bleeding out. And I¡¯m really low on energy.¡± She lifted a hand and swooned dramatically. I did not move to catch her. Mister Underwood could remain indifferent to the mechanisms of a woman.

    ¡°Ah. Well then. Intelligent ogre, one. Spider, zero.¡± I clapped, and brushed the remains off me. Sometime later I¡¯d need to use my star made knife to clean these oversized fingernails.

    ¡°Die!¡± Callisto refused to stop, even after the spider stopped twitching and lay there.

    Post Note: She had apparently been suffering a huge dislike for spiders. I assume seeing the large one broke her mind, however briefly. As Hawthorn, I would say she was tightly wound and needed to work out her aggression. As Mister Underwood I would suggest punching monsters. As Lance I would say, ¡°I should have seen it coming.¡±

    The red blot I¡¯d punched on the giant spider¡¯s neck was nowhere to be seen. That bothered me, but I couldn¡¯t put my finger on the reason. It went onto a pile of concerns that were impossible to address without three lifetimes.

    ¡°Mmmhm.¡± I rubbed my chin carefully. My fingers hurt almost as bad as my legs. Smears of blood were on my hands and needed to be washed off.

    The air felt clearer. The dampness hanging over the area lifted as the monster¡¯s body melted away. Webbing between trees and on the ground shrank in size. Orbs flaked off slowly. From the dying monster¡¯s spinnerets hung a single strand of golden silk. I stared at the material and wondered if it had any use.

    ¡°Grab it!¡± Allegra prompted. ¡°Before it vanishes!¡±

    I nodded jerkily and snagged the strand. Callisto looked up as I passed, her eyes cloudy and uneven hair matted with sweat. Her arm weakly continued to hack the dead and fading corpse with unabashed venom.

    ¡°It¡¯s dead,¡± I said while rolling the strand carefully. It felt more like a thin smooth rope than any webbing. At least my earlier hunch had been right, bigger spiders gave better webs.

    ¡°Are we done with this place yet?¡± Leon flapped at the air with a glove and one of his gauntlets clattered into the shield. His shield clanked to the ground and he slowly shook his head. The armor must be weighing heavily on him by now. ¡°Because the sooner we¡¯re done, the sooner I can do my job, instead of having it taken by some ogre.¡±

    Allegra knelt on the ground with her eyes closed, one hand clasped over her heaving chest and the other on the satchel carrying her pieces of paper. ¡°Get over it.¡±

    Allegra fiddled with paper some more and Callisto¡¯s eyes regained focus.

    The black-haired woman stared down the length of her arm and studied the sword. The last of the monster¡¯s body turned into swirls, vanishing into the four artifacts we carried.

    ¡°It happened again, didn¡¯t it? I lost control?¡± Callisto¡¯s lips tightened.

    Allegra nodded. Leon stood slowly and put his armor back into position.

    ¡°I really hate spiders,¡± she said.

    I nodded. That seemed to be a fair assessment. However, I liked spiders. They squished and gave me thread. By now we¡¯d collected enough strands to fill the trash can. This had been a win-win all around in my mind.

 Book 2, Rule 15

    Rule 15

    Game Mechanics Are Weird & Art is Fancy

    Statement: Leon¡¯s abilities are perhaps the oddest among us. Not his shield or stun hammer, but the way he labels everything as a game. As we traveled I asked about the ability, and despite his hatred for me as a monster, he seemed eager to share game stats with anyone.

    Now, this isn¡¯t to say that Allegra and Callisto didn¡¯t see events the same. They used terms like adds, enrage moves, stuns, and so on. Those made sense in the terms of a world where combat thrived but were clearly more about scripted actions and responses. As if monsters only performed a set number of moves. What then, if I attacked with an enrage fist, changed the move midstream, and performed something else? Would they call my moves a glitch?

    The woods were utterly still, save for the four of us. I kept an eye out for monsters and watched my party. As Hawthorn, we were on the same side. As Mister Underwood, our truce was one of mutual convenience, likely followed by vicious backstabbing. They still had uses. I would face eventual betrayal.

    From Little Shade, I didn¡¯t mind the pain upon separation. She often helped me gain far more than the cost of healing. Long term gains were worth a little pain. Traveling with these three might well go in the other direction, especially since part of deal included navigating out of the park, dropping off the trash can, and going back in.

    I wanted to be ready in case Callisto or Leon valued the golden thread I¡¯d taken from the dead monster. Knowing my luck, Leon¡¯s video game views would let him see a dollar sign or some item checkbox. Getting myself quality clothes was far more important than providing him a toupee or giving Callisto a golden lasso.

    ¡°Tell me more about this game you see,¡± I said to Leon.

    He glared.

    My shoulders lifted. ¡°We¡¯ve got to fill time somehow.¡±

    Even if he annoyed me, he also took his duty seriously. I had sort of taken over his role as a tank. He normally got beat on while I did damage. As Mister Underwood, I could easily take both positions. Being upset over that, me being an inhuman monster, and having unfair advantages, would all be enough to set anyone on edge. I didn¡¯t want to be friends but knowledge had value.

    ¡°Tell him about the party windows. That should make him lose his mind.¡± Callisto took the lead while I carried the large trash can. Allegra stood between us.

    ¡°Fine. I see party windows with everyone¡¯s face, health, mana, rage. That kind of thing. I also see damage charts. And they glow different colors depending on who¡¯s doing what.¡±

    ¡°That¡ª¡± I paused and tried to picture it a few times. It made no sense with the world¡¯s setting. Unless one accounted for magic. Maybe one of the shopkeepers at the mall had a video game store. ¡°How would you even purchase an item like that? I myself purchased strength, as you can see. Toughness. So I could travel this world without relying on others. I did not take note of anything that made this world a game.¡±

    ¡°This part¡¯s the best,¡± Callisto muttered. She didn¡¯t sound excited in the least. Her head shook and every few steps she¡¯d stop to pick at her hole filled clothes.

    Leon deflated and hung his head. ¡°When I¡­ was in that place. I had just finished my shift and parked the bus. That¡¯s what I do¡ªdid. I drove buses, and I had my keys in one hand and wanted to go home and play this game I¡¯d been waiting for all week. Then they showed up.¡± The ¡®they¡¯ in this story felt obvious. It did help to know we¡¯d all seen the same stewardesseses. ¡°And it was like my game world had come to life. Like in those stories, or mangas. Do you know?¡±

    My eyebrow lifted.

    Leon shook his head again. ¡°Of course not. You probably weren¡¯t a geek. You were probably popular and worked out a bunch. Sports and football. Go team! Right?¡± His arm clanked as he gave a halfhearted fist pump

    ¡°Negative. I do like throwing centered activities, but not football.¡±

    It was weird to be talking this much to them. Normally we barely spoke. When I was Hawthorn, we were all business. Go here, murder all the monsters. Go there, accomplish this task. I almost enjoyed conversing like a normal person.

    Otherwise the only thing I¡¯d be left with in this world was silence. At times it was valuable, but I would have probably died ages ago without assistance. Part of me questioned the assumption. I could have gone from house to house and survived off canned goods.

    ¡°So, I used contacts before. For my eyes.¡± He huffed and started again. ¡°I asked for them to be turned magical. To make me see all the game stats of this world. Like in the stories I used to read. They gave me drops, from a toad with wings, and put them onto the contacts as a spell.¡±

    ¡°And we¡¯ve been looking for another one,¡± Callisto added. ¡°No luck so far. Apparently toads with wings aren¡¯t that common. Or even toads. Or wings.¡± Her voice lowered as she continued talking. ¡°Fuck, I would kill for some good barbecued wings.¡±

    ¡°Anyway it was gross, but they let me see the world with a lot more information. Like who¡¯s being focused by monsters. Different colors to tell me how dangerous the attention is, or numbers for health. After working with these guys for a while I figured out this was perfect for tanking. I could actually help people by making sure monsters focused on me.¡±

    ¡°Masochist,¡± Callisto responded.

    Leon hit his boiling point and lashed out at Callisto. ¡°I¡¯m trying to keep people safe! It¡¯s the same thing you do!¡±

    She spun. ¡°You do it wrong.¡± Callisto pointed at Leon using her sword tip.

    ¡°You let me do it. You said it would be best. You helped me find this damn armor! Your stupid ability made it all happen.¡±

    ¡°Because it will save the most lives. I know it will. But people still die!¡± She whirled back and hacked at branches. We were near the park exit but were returning by a different path. The overgrowth out here was incredible.

    They both quieted. I leaned over to Allegra and whispered, ¡°What?¡±

    She took a moment to answer. ¡°When we first¡­ came out. There were hundreds of us. We fought for days about who should lead. We made one group, and a man calling himself Coach Madison formed another. I went with Callisto, since her power allows her see the best decisions to reach the goal. But out of the few hundred we started with there were still losses.¡±

    ¡°Not another word, Allie!¡± Callisto said.

    I frowned. From the brief explanation, I could infer a few different pieces of information. The idea that there had been a lot more survivors fit with my own world view. Someone close to Callisto had died. Leon had performed the role of tank but failed to keep monsters off someone. That someone had probably been closely tied to her. A boyfriend or relative.

    My teeth ground. The idea that Callisto might have had a boyfriend in this world aggravated me for a number of screwed up reasons. First, it meant she¡¯d gone out with someone after me. The reverse had not been true. We¡¯d broken up shortly after the accident and I hadn¡¯t dated a soul since then. It also meant she was hung up on whoever this first person was that died, more so than Hawthorn¡¯s passing.

    Post Note: It is one thing to be tossed aside. It¡¯s another to be replaced. The worst knife of all is to learn you never mattered in the first place. In that, Callisto did more damage to me than any of my misguided lies could possibly do to her. And she did so unknowingly.

    Callisto broke through the latest wall of wilderness. She stepped onto a rocky path, looked both ways, and strode off to the right somewhere. ¡°Come on. Drop your stupid webbing off and let¡¯s be gone!¡±

    I could have confirmed my suspicions with either Leon or Allegra, but I didn¡¯t want to. My chest remained tight from the sudden rush of implications. It was strange, how I could knife monsters without a second thought, make plans to betray my own allies if something went sour, and distrust my own father¡¯s existence. Yet, relationships still cut to the core.

    Post Note: I didn¡¯t like feeling emotions. If there had been a mental switch to turn them off as easily as I did pain, I would have pressed it in a second. In many ways, this small admission hurt worse than the betrayal to come.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Arson and his cart sat in the same spot. Callisto dug through the back for replacement clothes. I wanted pants as well but after our last headache over garments, it seemed like a poor topic to bring up. Besides, they¡¯d simply get ruined again. As long as my privates were covered I¡¯d be okay.

    I dropped off the trashcan. Arson jumped and shot me a dirty look through the edge of the fog. He stayed in the back of the cart and I lumbered to the park entrance. It gave me time to try to process all the stuff I¡¯d been told.

    There were still concerns. Leon shared with me some of his secrets to power. He did so, even after having tried to kill me earlier. That led to several possibilities. Either he had to tell when someone asked, he didn¡¯t care enough to hide it, he didn¡¯t hate me, or he offered information to me in hopes of getting some in return.

    I thought about the information I¡¯d given away. None of it had been false, though obviously they could misinterpret it. I hadn¡¯t bought strength or toughness when in the line, I¡¯d asked for something to help me survive. Strength was purchased from Mister Yuck Yuck. Toughness was simply a bonus.

    This last day had certainly showed a new side to the people I tentatively called companions. They were closer to companions in this form, an admittedly scarier form in my mind, than they were to a normal-looking me. It might be the near human nature of being Hawthorn. It might be this ¡°dryad¡± ability clouding the women¡¯s minds. They might not like having felt drugged by my presence.

    ¡°This time we¡¯ll lead.¡± Callisto brushed by with the other two following in a tight group. Allegra at least gave me a slightly sympathetic smile.

    There were still spiders. With the big boss out of the way, the small ones were simply annoying. Leon in plate ensured Allegra barely had to heal any poisons. Web amounts shrank as we veered right at the park entrance.

    ¡°So, where¡¯s this rock?¡± I asked.

    Allegra fell back a step and held up a map. Markings filled in on their own, displaying small wavy bits for bushes and a dotted line showing our path. There was a symbol by some cartoon feet which represented us. I liked my own feet, large and shoeless.

    The markings changed and seemed to zoom out. They didn¡¯t actually zoom, but the small bushes and other notations danced closer together.

    ¡°We were over here.¡± She pointed to the left side of an area. Small drawings of spiders were all over and webs between trees. We¡¯d been wandering in a range spanning an eighth of the overall park.

    ¡°And we¡¯re headed here.¡±

    I followed her finger back to our position, then out to another drawn in area. We headed along a new route slightly off the main road. I couldn¡¯t see any obvious landmarks. It might be six hours or so before we reached the rock.

    ¡°Why not utilize the primary thoroughfare?¡± There had to be a good reason for not taking the main road I¡¯d noted.

    ¡°A pack of wolves use it to travel quickly. I¡ªoh here.¡± She tapped the piece of paper. Dots formed. ¡°These aren¡¯t perfect. It uses a lot of mana to keep them updated. Between healing, mapping, and simply keeping my armor in place, I don¡¯t have a lot to spare.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s at about half mana constantly,¡± Leon said.

    Allegra tapped the paper again. It shifted to pictures of our faces with a bunch of penciled in bars. Most were full. Mine had a blocked-out portion near the end. ¡°I can sort of see it how Leon does if I concentrate. But see, windows, bars. Mana. Health. I don¡¯t like this view of the group though. The full body pictures are easier for me to use. People are art, not bars.¡±

    If I inferred her picture right, the blocked portion on the end of my health was kind of a cap on my status. It probably had to do with my body¡¯s ongoing recovery from the blown apart limbs. It had only been a few days since that event and I noticed that one arm was weaker than the other when surviving the explosive fist.

    Ahead of us Callisto stopped her baby spider murder to whisper, ¡°We¡¯ll need to rest before we break through the rock. Something bad always happens we when go through barriers. Plus you¡¯ll need to recover. Those attacks seem to be hurting you as a backlash, right?¡±

    I nodded. I was also beyond tired. I¡¯d been going non-stop since leaving Mister Yuck Yuck¡¯s sewage kingdom.

    ¡°I keep telling you, this place is exactly like a game. Break down the rock blocking the entrance, and we¡¯ll get a battle event,¡± Leon said.

    ¡°Whatever.¡± Callisto sighed and cleaned her sword on her pants. ¡°But you¡¯re probably right. The cave gives me a creepy feeling, but that¡¯s got to be where the item is, right Allegra?¡±

    She tapped her map again. More dots were scattered all around the park. Some bigger than others. The feet that had been on the map were replaced by thick, solid dots. She pointed at the spot we traveled to. Beyond it was a series of small dots that could mean anything.

    ¡°There¡¯s something powerful there. I can¡¯t tell what. We haven¡¯t explored the back half of the park either. It¡¯s outside my range.¡± It was also completely unmarked on her map.

    I hadn¡¯t ever taken note of how versatile her abilities were. Most days, I¡¯d simply accepted that Allegra did ¡°a lot of stuff¡± and life went on. Clearly she could use the piece of paper and her powers to replicate almost any type of data she wished. Without paper, she¡¯d probably be useless.

    ¡°That¡¯s some ability.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± She glanced around and waited to make sure the other two were distracted before continuing. ¡°You never showed this much interest¡­ before. You know.¡±

    I shrugged. There was no good way to tell the truth and not give away too much information. Even misleading her felt a bit rude. Allegra had been nothing but kind to me since day one. It was she who crawled back into the market and worked to rescue me. It was Allegra who healed our broken bodies. She had a more mature body in every sense of the word, but it was easy to put aside any sense of lust. It was more like she was an attractive nurse¡ªin bathrobes.

    ¡°Why the sudden change? Is it a compulsion?¡± she asked.

    I nodded. That was a clear enough answer. With every form I felt different. The lust factor was a compulsion. Mister Underwood¡¯s speech was an unexpected side effect. There were obviously clear differences caused by the bodies.

    Post Note: I feel¡ªat times¡ªI¡¯ve recounted these differences a lot in this journal. Part of it was realizing the ways my life had changed with each new situation. Then there was a simple weighing of pros and cons. That is ongoing¡ªespecially when my life is on the line.

    She smiled. ¡°I kind of like you more this way.¡±

    I snorted.

    ¡°It¡¯s the muscles. They have deep pockets to them. The shadows do more. And it¡¯s easier to see you. You know, right?¡±

    I nodded to her question. This form didn¡¯t stealth like my other two. I wondered why Hawthorn and Lance were so alike compared to this body. ¡°Maybe when we get back, you can show me those muscles some more? In a private setting?¡±

    ¡°Oh dear.¡± My blood pressure shot up and face heated. That didn¡¯t sound like Callisto¡¯s normally aggressive moves. She¡¯d always been extremely forthright. Older women, though calling her old was clearly misleading, might have a different approach.

    The nurse having the hots for me was not an issue I¡¯d been prepared to tackle. Sure she¡¯d shot Hawthorn a glance or twenty over the last month. I attributed that to being in my other form.

    ¡°Oh, god. No. For art. Purely for art. I want to try sketching you. Not with this magic. With my own supplies.¡± Her hands fluttered causing the bag to bounce and her robe to part slightly at the top. I winced and averted my eyes to be polite. If nothing else, I could control this form as long as there was no perfume around.

    ¡°Ah.¡± I flushed even harder. Now she knew I¡¯d been thinking other thoughts.

    ¡°It would be amazing. There¡¯s very few people with such insane muscle definition. It might be a bit comical to draw but I love a challenge. I mean. It¡¯s that or dead people. Or the monsters that try to kill us. It¡¯s not the same as having an up-close model, and I miss that.¡±

    ¡°You were an art student?¡±

    ¡°Partially. It feels like a lifetime ago now.¡±

    Our words had picked up in volume. Callisto and Leon still fought small packs of monsters while we stayed behind. None of the orbs went to me, which was fine. I¡¯d gained too many from the last boss anyway, and still hadn¡¯t established their value. Maybe on the way back I¡¯d ask Leon more about experience and how that worked into our skills.

    The small bits I¡¯d picked up about everyone were certainly interesting. As with everything else, it brought more questions than answers.

    We continued and I stayed in the back happily chatting with Allegra. She showed me more of how they viewed the world and their strengths. I filed away the information. Leon¡¯s abilities were useful but narrow. Allegra said she could tap into them a bit with her pages and started pulling up our ¡°character sheets¡± as Leon saw them. They had brawn, coordination, and a bunch of other names for measuring people.

    Post Note: I found it rather stupid. On a cold day, flexibility would obviously go down. Why bother tracking all that information? Apparently, Leon even saw rankings for people within the same levels. We each got a frame, which Allegra admitted she couldn¡¯t copy exactly. We were given rarity rankings in his mind.

    ¡°It¡¯s very intriguing but I can¡¯t see how this helps.¡±

    ¡°It keeps me away from monsters that are too strong.¡± Leon shuddered.

    ¡°Have you met a monster you can¡¯t kill?¡± I asked. ¡°Because I have not. Based on Allegra¡¯s fascinating depiction of our malty quartet, our powers roughly average out. Monsters grow increasingly tough but so do transformed humans who still survive. Yourselves providing a prime example. No sensible game would be designed this way.¡±

    Leon stopped his escort and paused to yell at me. ¡°People have died! Not everyone finds it easy. There¡¯s someone fucking with us, making it seem like a game and feeding us levels with those damn orbs. If it¡¯s not a game then why do we gain levels?¡±

    Callisto pinched her nose and closed her eyes tightly.

    ¡°Perhaps a form of energy filtration,¡± I offered.

    ¡°For what? Why do we get them? Why do they go into our items? What is happening to the people around us? Why are there endless monsters? There¡¯s got to be a big boss. There¡¯s got to be some goal to reach. Levels matter. Skills matter. Finding better items matter. We need all the strength we can get to simply survive this world.¡±

    Callisto stepped up and put a hand on Leon¡¯s shoulder. Despite their constant bickering, the way she glared at me while frowning said I¡¯d been wrong to ask. ¡°Why does it matter how he sees things? We¡¯re all doing the best we can to survive. If his view helps us live to fight another day, then so be it.¡±

    Leon¡¯s eyes tightened and he looked wounded. ¡°I see what I see. There¡¯s more monsters than humans. It¡¯s the end of days and I¡¯m doing my best.¡±

    And with that simple statement, they were no longer talking to me. Leon and Callisto locked eyes briefly.

    ¡°I know. I still think you¡¯re a tool and Mayor Kent is up to something. But you¡¯re doing your best. Just keep trying.¡±

    ¡°Are you telling me that because you¡¯ve forgiven me or is your ability telling you I need to be coddled?¡± he asked.

    Callisto looked down and tightened her face into a resolute glare. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter.¡± She stepped away and pulled a tree branch to the side. A small cliff face greeted us. In the cliff face, a large bolder blocked a cave entrance. The rock¡¯s coloring was dark and it almost looked like a scene from some video game.

    I eyed the two ahead of me. Maybe their strange views on the world had rubbed off. The discoloration reminded me of those old puzzle games from years ago. If we planted a bomb by the entrance it would surely open while musical notes jangled to indicate success.

    Callisto thumbed to the huge bolder. ¡°Here¡¯s the rock. We¡¯re taking a break, when everyone¡¯s at one hundred percent, we smash it and loot whatever¡¯s inside.¡±

 Book 2, Rule 16

    Rule 16

    Ogres Are Too Big & Confusion Gas Sucks

    Statement: The problem with talking to people, is that I¡¯m often left with more questions than answers. If I put serious thought into every half-baked sentence out of Midge¡¯s mouth I¡¯d be insane in a matter of days. Assuming I¡¯m not already.

    Hearing and seeing the trio¡¯s view on the world opened my eyes as to why they acted how they did¡ªbut it left even more confusion behind. What sort of mad world allows all these perspectives to exist together? Worse still, if we can¡¯t see the world in one unified manner, what else were we misunderstanding? The bigger picture questions only grew scarier to ponder.

    My ears roared with a sound like crashing waves. My hands were clasped over my head. They burned with energy. The rock in front of me was taller, larger, and denser than my current body. Placed my fists together and letting the energy infuse my joined hands was a new discovery.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have all day,¡± Callisto said.

    The other three were directly behind me a ways. Leon had a fresh shield up. I often wondered where he got them all. There had to be a police station dungeon with some boss monster that dropped shields instead of the homeless man and his dirty panties.

    The burning sensation strode a thin line between pain and pleasure. Soon, I¡¯d be smashing the pitiful rock and reveling in the explosive aftermath.

    ¡°Come on,¡± Callisto shouted.

    The reason I hesitated wasn¡¯t to let the power build. Destroying this object would hurt. Additionally, I¡¯d probably be blinded, and wound my hands again. That would leave me weak to whatever came next.

    I felt glad that we¡¯d rested prior to breaking this rock. My eyelids had dropped almost instantly. Paranoia and worry should have kept me awake but I felt secure enough in this hulk of a body to wake up before anyone could kill me. I¡¯d already estimated I could grab any of the trio and throw them.

    It would have been the best time to murder me for orbs. However, need outweighed desire. A lesser person, such as myself, might not have been able to resist.

    ¡°It¡¯s not really a cave,¡± Allegra said. ¡°It¡¯s a bunker. I think. One of those old military ones.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s more in there than that, right?¡± Leon asked.

    ¡°I would settle for a working rocket launcher,¡± Callisto responded.

    Their banter continued in the background. I eyed the best place to land a blow then made sure there were places to go for safety, in case the trio attacked. It would be easier to defend with a solid wall at my back. Dodging into the compound might be an option but this doorway might be too small.

    ¡°We found those grenades at the precinct, remember?¡±

    ¡°Those useless candy filled grenades,¡± Leon responded. ¡°Was a waste of our potions.¡±

    The conversation didn¡¯t imply a need to murder me after I opened the doorway. That helped but I still worried. Trust was not a thought I encouraged in myself. I¡¯d spent most of this trip watching for ways that Callisto or Leon might betray me. Sure, they were willing to talk. Sure, they were kind enough and Allegra knew who I was beneath the magic. But only a fool trusts in this world. I¡¯d not let their friendly natures lull me into complacency.

    Post Note: I ask myself, when did I first turn so cynical? Then I remember. I crashed a car with friends inside. They didn¡¯t call or write. None of them offered to help me. They didn¡¯t even call 911¡ªanother driver had. But that was the old world.

    ¡°Today!¡± Callisto shouted. ¡°We had a deal.¡±

    That we did. If nothing else, I¡¯d honor the bargain. It was a good place to start, and I wouldn¡¯t be one to break the oath. They would not get to call me a liar.

    My arms finally came down. The world went white then faded as I tightened my eyes. Rocks blasted small divots into my skin. It felt as if a giant sand castle exploded in front of me. I staggered back from the sudden force and veered toward a nearby wall.

    Huge clumps of dirt were all over the formerly flat ground. I felt the cool surface of the wall along my forearm. My fingers showed no signs of registering the sensation. They were dull and throbbing.

    I kept them out, prepared for anything, be it an attack by my group or some event triggering as Leon had said. I couldn¡¯t hear and my sight was blurry. I filed away the information; ogres have extremely sensitive eyeballs.

    They didn¡¯t. My eyesight cleared to see the three of them approaching the doorway.

    ¡°Heal if you need.¡± Callisto whispered in passing. ¡°We¡¯re going to scout the inside. Allie will see the traps for us.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re better at working together anyway,¡± Leon said.

    ¡°It would be best if we split paths here. The ceiling is too low for you anyway. If this place has what we need, then our deal is done.¡± Callisto nodded. She paused and frowned. Her head shook quickly as if something else had occurred to her. ¡°But if you still want to help, we could use you back in town. If you want to wait with the wagon.¡±

    Translation¡ªgo away while we take all the good stuff. Allegra glanced once in my direction then followed the others in a tight formation. They stepped over rubble, pushed a few larger chunks out of the way, and slipped into the exposed doorway.

    They¡¯d completely ignored the moment of weakness. I felt thankful for such fools then immediately suspicious. A dozen reasons for letting the opportunity pass came to mind. I suppressed them and rubbed my fingers. They hurt.

    Small trickles of blood dripped from their ends. It proved that using this explosive rune on my own form came with serious drawbacks. I compared the damage to what I¡¯d sustained as Hawthorn. Being an ogre, or whatever half-breed I¡¯d become, had advantages.

    I wanted to see what prize they were going for. If it was the weapon, then I didn¡¯t feel safe entrusting it to them. It would be far easier for me to sneak by as Hawthorn, steal the item, and take a bus ride back to town and murder the Ogre King. Honestly, I could complete my goals before they made it halfway down the road by using the bus as a shortcut.

    Stella¡¯s life would be infinitely safer. At the least, I could easily follow them to make sure the trio survived. Though I¡¯d be forced to be more covert. Oddly, the idea of sneaking after my own party, who thought I was dead, then possibly stealing the supreme treasure out from under their noses, excited me. Those sorts of perverse thoughts were easier to realize with my abilities.

    As the idea occurred to me, I peeled off the ogre form of Mister Underwood. The spell lingered in my fingertips while my body shrank, or the world grew. I could feel myself fading from the environment. The sensation was easier to notice now that I¡¯d been an obvious target for so long.

    Maybe that was why I could barely tell if I was invisible to others or not. I¡¯d been unnoticeable since getting this mirror-paged book. It was only when being visible, and literally naked, that the effect could be detected.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    I¡¯d have to experiment with it more when no one else was around. Inside might be a new boss or big monster that had powers to acquire.

    Callisto¡¯s voice rang from the doorway. They were fighting something. A flash of light spilled out.

    I stayed as Lance. It was the most logical solution. Hawthorn was dead and him showing up here would be difficult to explain. I halted and pondered the choice again. I could say that I¡¯d healed and simply caught up. Then my judgment would be clouded by the desire for sex and violence.

    Neither option sounded great. I resolved to stay as Lance anyway. Allegra would know. Callisto probably wouldn¡¯t recognize me. Hawthorn¡¯s form may not have much facial hair, but Lance was riddled with it. I knotted a chunk of my tattered pants and put on the shirt that had been sitting in my pocket the whole time.

    It hung loosely over me. After the grime of spider webs and dirt, I looked like a homeless man living in the park. I grabbed some earth and smeared them on the shirt to complete the disguise and quietly giggled.

    My small legs felt weak. There was no strength to these arms. I didn¡¯t have the sinuous grace of Hawthorn. It was simply me, and a spell book with only four tricks.

    I slipped into the small passageway and buried my fears. They wouldn¡¯t matter if everyone died. If these three failed then I¡¯d have to find the weapon myself. I¡¯d be utterly lost without Allegra¡¯s maps. They probably wouldn¡¯t work if she passed away, so I needed to help make sure they stayed alive.

    The mission became twofold. Take anything useful I could find, for the only sure bet was power allowed for easier survival. Keep the others alive so they¡¯d help Stella stay alive. I had zero confidence in keeping a baby healthy on my own in this maddening world.

    Post Note: I did not like needing people. Still, there are certain realities I must face. I am no parent. I would likely make a terrible father in general. Which brings to mind another fear I¡¯d never considered. What if Callisto got pregnant? We¡¯d certainly tried often enough. I will have to find out.

    Admission: I had to stop writing this recount for a time after this occurred to me. Worse still, we surely weren¡¯t the only survivors to engage in such actions. Or, did her ability let her see when would be a good time? If I still believed in god, I would be praying heavily right now. Instead, during that time away, I scavenged a few beers and steeled myself for the rest of this journal.

    The bunker¡¯s inside had moss covered steel walls. It grew along every surface, showing where the cold and damp hadn¡¯t been blocked by the boulder. A single series of lights along the ceiling lit the hallways. They flickered every few seconds.

    This place had to be a dungeon. Like the supermarket and the back-alley shortcut we¡¯d used to sneak up on the Ogre King¡¯s territory. That meant the normal laws of space and sanity loosely applied. Enemies should fit a theme. For the supermarket, it had been based on aisles. For the alley, it had been a homeless man, and scavenger-type animals.

    I moved slowly, watching for signs of enemies. Once I saw the first creature, I could probably figure out the theme. Slime and an underground lair might be any sort of monster. It might have been easier to guess if I¡¯d played more video games or explored more dungeons in my first month of this world.

    Hallways branched off every dozen feet; some went into storage rooms that were piled high with plastic storage tubs. Inside the clear containers liquid splashed on its own. That worried me, so I placed an explosive rune in the doorway. I half expected those rolling liquids to be monsters that might climb out after me.

    It wouldn¡¯t be the strangest thing I¡¯d seen.

    ¡°Two more, shield!¡± Callisto said.

    ¡°Blocking the left,¡± Leon responded.

    His words were clearer. I held still and the sound slowly faded away. They were getting farther away and I still couldn¡¯t see any of the trio. They battled enemies as well but those were invisible.

    More shouts came from down the hall. Callisto¡¯s voice bounced off walls until it utterly distorted. I could hear her but couldn¡¯t figure out where they¡¯d gone. There were no fresh foes or defeated monsters. I stared at a hallway intersection expecting a series of yellow orbs floating through walls.

    ¡°Watch out!¡± Callisto shouted.

    I jerked around, expecting her to be behind me. She wasn¡¯t. The words lingered in a soft echo.

    It was the same pattern repeatedly. Hallways. The ceiling lights flickering. Bins of liquid rolling from side to side as though they had small oceans contained inside. I grew wary and summoned my wine flute from the black energy spell. I set it in a doorway. My explosive rune had been placed elsewhere.

    I took two more turns. There were no signs of the wine flute or explosive rune. The scenery stayed the same, right down to the moss-lined walls. My shoulders tightened and hunched body froze. Dozens of turns separated me from the entrance. My escape route might have vanished entirely in this maze.

    I¡¯d never be able to complete either goal if this continued. Worse still, I might die, having failed on all fronts.

    I inhaled and exhaled slowly. ¡°I will survive¡­¡±

    The words echoed and died quick. I stopped and pondered the situation. A few hints existed but nothing told me with certainty what was happening. All of my guesses were based on a limited experience with other dungeons.

    First, I could attempt to destroy the lights and plunge this place into darkness. It might trigger something. It was possible everything in here was an illusion cast by their strange rhythmic flickering. I¡¯d be able to see due to my gifts, but there might be monsters who were able to hide. Loss of vision would be a last resort.

    As another facet, I could hear Callisto shouting. She and the others were either still alive or somehow in a different version of this maze. I heard them, they could probably hear me. That meant we shared the location or were close enough to each other. They could be up a floor or down one, depending on how badly space distorted in this dungeon. Maybe Allegra could find me if I alerted them.

    That led me to a third factor to consider. They had monsters to fight while I didn¡¯t. This might be a result of my stealth abilities. Those tubes could be filled with monsters waiting to be activated. If I triggered a group of them, then maybe the trio would find me. I could pretend to be a hapless victim running from monsters. As a homeless man, that almost fit, and Leon hopefully wouldn¡¯t attack a human.

    I would be Lance, the crazy loon in the forest. The idea amused me. I hadn¡¯t had a role for this normal form of mine since leaving Coach Big Balls, also known as Coach Madison.

    Post Note: It seems like I am obsessed with acting in roles. However, as I write this, the real truth becomes obvious. I like it when people don¡¯t know who I am. I like being further from the broken bodied teen I¡¯d been. If Callisto and Leon could remake themselves, transforming from an angsty plump teen into a warrior princess, and mild-mannered bus driver into a paladin of the light, why couldn¡¯t I remake myself, once, twice, or three times?

    I settled for a trap and tipping the containers. Then it would be possible to watch from another location and see if monsters formed. If they did, then the trap would likely scatter them to the winds. Allegra and the others would hear if I did it close enough to their shouts.

    All the storage rooms were the same. I wandered until Callisto¡¯s voice seemed to come from right in front of me. An explosive rune went into the nearest doorway, and I pulled out my net. The containers bobbled calmly, ignoring my presence.

    My net draped over the clear tub¡¯s edges. I stepped back into the hall and got ready to yank the stack over and give myself time to run. Fairly certain I¡¯d accounted for everything, I pulled on the net¡¯s edge and stepped away as the totes toppled.

    Liquid burbled and fell to one side in an exaggerated rush. I only had a second to take it in the before ooze spilled outward. A tall slender creature I hadn¡¯t notice stood behind the former stack of ooze tubs. Its lanky body and thin hands frozen as if it didn¡¯t understand what had happened.

    Then it flickered and vanished. The explosive rune went off. Once it cleared, the monster I¡¯d barely taken note of hadn¡¯t reappeared.

    ¡°Gas!¡± Callisto barked a warning. I looked down the hallway in both directions to see if her form had suddenly appeared. ¡°Get away from the doorway, Allie, cleanse. Leon, two monsters. Go!¡±

    ¡°Ten seconds. Don¡¯t breathe it in and I can work faster.¡±

    I stared at the room where the explosion had happened. Green liquid bubbled in the doorway and scattered across the hall. The moss growing along the edges sizzled as liquid boiled on the walls. The two materials combined to create an unknown reaction. Smoke billowed.

    A second splattering of goo slimed the hallway. I couldn¡¯t figure out where it had come from.

    ¡°One down!¡± Leon said.

    ¡°On it,¡± Callisto responded.

    A second puddle of goo exploded. The others obviously fought a monster, based on their shouts, that I couldn¡¯t see. They¡¯d been fighting them earlier when I first walked into the doorway too. I surmised something existed in those plastic tubs.

    The wall of gas rapidly expanded and seemed to be alive as it dove for my face. I jerked back and took a huge lungful of air. My stomach twisted and vision blurred. The world went monochrome, then purple and green faded in, taking the place of formerly gray walls and yellow ceiling lights. I put out a hand and watched as my skin rolled on its own, as if something lived under the surface waiting to ripple out.

    So, I did what any sensible man might do, especially if they lived in a fantasy world of nightmares. I bit my tongue to stifle a scream that threatened to escape.

    I did that because down at the other end of the hallway, the tall, slender man stood with its head cocked to one side in clear confusion. The monster I¡¯d briefly glimpsed had returned. That wasn¡¯t the part that scared me the most. He had no eyes and no mouth. His ears were lost in a smooth curve that barely stuck out from his head. The creature had no hair and might have been female for all I could tell.

    He took a step forward and space seemed to fold and his body blurred. Then he was close enough for me to breathe on.

 Book 2, Rule 17

    Rule 17

    Ghosts Are Invisible & Explore Everywhere

    Statement: Some monsters are so nonsensical that even fighting them is a joke. Of course, these jokes are often deadly. Take the serpentine tube monster in the supermarket. It spit acid and left a pool behind when it died. There had been baby tubes that spawned from its innards.

    Then there were monsters like this one. Just off from human. I remember reading an article¡ªone which talked about the ¡°uncanny valley¡±¡ªhow creatures that are lifelike and resemble to human can create an eerie feeling. Now imagine it¡¯s a monster, and it wants to eat your heart.

    It stood still. I also froze, afraid any aggressive action might break my stealth status. Tipping the tubes over hadn¡¯t been enough but pulling out a knife and driving it into what should be an eye socket might be impossible.

    Post Note: You may ask how I knew of my near invisible status. After being in my ogre form, then going back to normal, I could feel a difference between hidden me and visible me.

    There was no breath. Its body jerked in quick motions that reminded me of horror show effects. I smiled and wondered how many orbs its dead body would reward.

    Sniffing came from the generally featureless white head. The creature wore gloves, obscuring any sign of skin. It might have been a monster, or someone dressed in a Halloween costume.

    My pulse quickened, partially from panic and borderline fright. That faded as I wondered if it could be killed. If so, maybe I could steal its movement abilities as a spell.

    The lights flickered. Gas continued to distort my surroundings with greens and purples.

    ¡°I can feel your heat.¡± It sounded more like a hiss than proper words.

    My heartbeat stuttered, and eyes bugged. The world continued to warp and twist. It felt like being on the best drugs money could buy then attending a soundless dance party. I fought the urge to bob in time to non-existent music.

    ¡°Where are you, ghost?¡± it whispered. ¡°Where are you, sound in the silence?¡±

    I was right in front of it, obviously. I wouldn¡¯t need to steal from it, because any monster I¡¯d looted from was normally dead first. These questions were stupid and the walls were pretty.

    The air slowly cleared. I held still despite the swaying landscape and managed to keep an eye on the monster. It had no teeth. That bothered me most of all. Nearly every monster I¡¯d fought had teeth. Gnashing, biting, rending chompers lining their misshapen mouths like garlands on a Christmas tree.

    The gas had messed with my mind. I took short shallow breaths and refused to let my eyesight fool me. The walls still rolled as if creatures tunneled along under their metal framing. After a dozen breaths, the distortion lessened.

    I continued to hold extremely still and fought fear with reason. The creature couldn¡¯t see me. This was either because it had no eyes or couldn¡¯t see through my stealth. No eyes hadn¡¯t stopped a ton of monsters from attacking the others. It could be a combination of the two factors.

    Post Note: Why then, could I hear the others, but they couldn¡¯t hear me? It had to be related to entering separately, or my status as a sneak. I could have learned more if Little Shade had entered as well.

    ¡°Poison¡¯s gone,¡± Callisto said.

    ¡°Yeah. Anything else?¡±

    ¡°These ones exploded too. No orbs,¡± Leon said. ¡°What¡¯s the deal with those creatures?¡±

    ¡°Allie?¡± Callisto passed the question over.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Hold on. There¡¯s someone in here with us,¡± Allegra muttered. ¡°I don¡¯t know how I didn¡¯t see it before.¡±

    The creature¡¯s head tilted as it gazed around. It could likely hear the others. I had no reason to believe that my party¡¯s voices were somehow for my ears only.

    ¡°Where?¡± Callisto asked.

    ¡°There, it¡¯s almost still. There, strike that way!¡± Allegra gave a command. That threw me off.

    A bright light lit the hallway. I ducked and sucked in a fresh bout of the poisonous air. My vision bubbled and the walls distorted in a wave as a sharp energy flew in a horizontal line above my head. Marks dug into the walls and a horrible metal on metal sound clawed at my ears.

    The creature lifted its hands and darted away, fleeing a hair¡¯s breadth ahead of the partially invisible attack unleashed by Callisto.

    ¡°It¡¯s gone,¡± Allegra said. ¡°Or at least, off my map.¡±

    ¡°How can it do that?¡± Callisto asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s an ability. Hawthorn is¡±¡ªAllegra paused and coughed¡ª¡°was the same way. Whenever he was invisible I couldn¡¯t see him on the map.¡±

    ¡°So, are we fighting an evil Hawthorn?¡± Leon asked.

    Allegra rustled paper before answering. ¡°Maybe? It¡¯s something. This whole place is a trap of some kind. Maybe a hunting ground.¡±

    I smiled. That sounded fun. The more I thought about it, the more exciting it was. This entire place was a series of traps for unsuspecting people. Though I hadn¡¯t figured out how that narrow humanoid creature planned to kill. Clearly it could be hurt by Callisto¡¯s moves. That probably meant other abilities could damage it.

    ¡°Hold on. I think. I think there¡­¡± Allegra trailed off. The silence reigned. I tilted my head, as if listening to the ceiling would help me hear their words with more clarity.

    Post Note: It didn¡¯t. Of course. Ceilings rarely have enlightenment to offer. Attics, on the other hand¡­

    ¡°What is it?¡± Callisto asked.

    ¡°I think someone else might be in here too,¡± the honey-voiced woman said.

    The tone of their voices had never really registered before. Now that I had no interest in their bodies and could only hear them, the tones took on a new life. Allegra¡¯s words matched her hair. Callisto had a roughness that reminded me of her unevenly cut hair.

    ¡°The ogre?¡± Leon¡¯s voice floated by. It sounded so close I might be standing on top of him. That bothered me. He had a solid and thick tone. I wondered if those were influenced by the gas that had distorted my vision.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°No,¡± Allegra responded. ¡°But look. Tracks.¡±

    She must have been pointing down. There were piles of goo everywhere. Only that which had met with moss burned away into fog. I saw the green liquid, and in it were prints that had come from the monster¡¯s distorted toes. They were longer than my own bare feet.

    The cold metal flooring caused me to shiver.

    Callisto continued, ¡°And that mark, wasn¡¯t there. It doesn¡¯t match my sword strike. I¡¯ve been keeping my attacks restricted to thrusts and downward slashes. This isn¡¯t either of those.¡±

    ¡°These halls are too narrow,¡± Leon agreed.

    I found the mark they were talking about it and knelt to study it. After a moment, I realized I held the star wrought dagger in my hands and had been tapping it against the wall.

    Post Note: I certainly didn¡¯t remember pulling the black spell from my book, forming the rune, and drawing the blade from my palm. I can only assume I summoned it out of instinct.

    ¡°Hear that?¡± Callisto asked. Her chain mail shuffled and there was a crisp ring.

    I paused tapping and pondered. They could hear me as well as I could hear them. I didn¡¯t like their disembodied voices. They hung in the air and held no clear direction. Our tight confined hallways caused the sounds to bounce. They¡¯d ignored my footsteps but without shoes the sounds I made were muffled.

    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± Callisto asked.

    This put me at a crossroads. My voice might be rough from disuse. It had been a long time since I¡¯d spoken to anyone besides Little Shade without a disguise. There was a minute chance Callisto would recognize me. That other monster had given me a name, and while I detested being labeled in any way, it could be useful, with a bit of personalization.

    A G-H-S-T I etched. Some letters were harder than others. Placing them far enough apart should prevent the magic from shifting them. Lettering curves with a blade might have been easier as Hawthorn but I couldn¡¯t bring myself to put that form on.

    After a moment, Leon asked, ¡°You both see that, right?¡±

    There was a smack and Leon grunted in pain. I could only assume that one of the women had smacked him in his head. Likely Callisto. My body hunched in preparation to dodge any additional strikes.

    ¡°Those are dashes, right? Allie?¡± Callisto prompted her companion.

    ¡°It¡¯s hard to tell. Like there¡¯s someone there, but not. Another plane maybe? I¡¯ve never seen this.¡± Paper rustled. ¡°It¡¯s not on my map. But maybe its got a high stealth. Invisibility maybe? Leon didn¡¯t you say something about stealth skills and magical invisibility being different?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not getting any stats either,¡± Leon added. ¡°But if it¡¯s like that mage who left us months ago, then yeah. They¡¯d be different. Remember, we could sometimes see him when nothing was happening, but we couldn¡¯t when he used spells.¡±

    I had no idea what they were talking about. It was possible to infer the redhead as Little Shade. She¡¯d been a strawberry sort of girl. Freckles and bright hair. The mage they spoke of didn¡¯t ring a bell, though I¡¯d seen one neurotic man buying spell book pages during the line forever ago. It might be possible these events were related, but their reaction to my presence mattered more than figuring out back stories.

    ¡°With enough levels, maybe it¡¯s possible?¡± Leon said.

    Callisto sighed. I knew that sigh better than anyone else¡¯s. ¡°So, you think it was a spell, and someone leveled it up really high, so much that they¡¯re now invisible?¡±

    ¡°On another plane. Maybe,¡± Allegra prompted.

    That fit well enough. We¡¯d been killing monsters nonstop for a month. I¡¯d murdered more than my fair share while the others rested between dungeons and sabotage runs. Stacks of yellow orbs had to be helping us somehow, like it did for my healing.

    Post Note: Once again I wish this world had a manual. Why is it that I¡¯d never noticed this sort of alternate reality as any other form? Do they manifest more abilities differently, like the explosive rune? Are they mutating based on how I use them? Why then, could I see this other figure?

    I took stock again while they rambled about the same rogue and mage for a few minutes. Allegra constantly shuffled paper. Leon¡¯s armor clanked. Callisto stopped and polished her sword with steady ringing noises as the whetstone rippled up and down. I¡¯d attempted to figure out where she stored it but never learned. It seemed likely that the items she used to maintain her weapons came from her artifact somehow.

    If I could summon wine flutes and nets, she could probably summon stone.

    My legs felt better. I tapped idly against the wall with my knife tip. It would take a few more hours of being normal me, before the last of my wounds finally recovered. By the end of this trip I¡¯d probably need to ravage a house for food or raid one of my supply stashes.

    ¡°We can use him.¡± Callisto abruptly drove me out of my inner musings. ¡°We have to. There¡¯s no other way to get through this maze.¡±

    ¡°You think this ghost can see a way out?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Callisto probably shook her head slowly but certainly sounded perplexed. ¡°I think he can help us fight the monster in here. Whatever it is. It might be part of the quest you said you got.¡±

    ¡°Wow. Yeah the quest text just updated. I wish you guys could see this like I do, it¡¯d be easier. Anyway it says use G-H-S-T, god it actually spells it out with those letters, to kill The Snark.¡±

    I¡¯d guessed correctly. This place was a maze. We were being hunted by a monster that no one else could see but me. They needed me. It was a good thing I¡¯d entered into this place after them.

    ¡°A snark? It actually says snark?¡± Callisto asked.

    Armor clanked in response. I could almost visualize Leon¡¯s shrug that generated the noise.

    It was even more exciting to hear about their abilities without needing to ask questions. Due to my distrust of them, I¡¯d been exploring a lot on my own. They clearly knew a great deal about each other¡¯s abilities. Maybe they¡¯d had conversations like this all along but I¡¯d simply ignored them. When I existed as Hawthorn, only explosions, murder, and skirt chasing registered.

    I resolved to keep myself juggling the three forms. Each one gave me a different view of the world and had value.

    ¡°Ghost, are you there?¡±

    I tapped once, loudly. It reminded me of what Allegra had done on my back while I¡¯d been blinded. Whatever Callisto asked next was buried under brief alarm. There, at the end of one of the mirror-like hallways, stood the scrawny featureless man. It held still and stared in my direction.

    Using the blade¡¯s edge, I scratched an arrow on the wall. There were no words but someone coughed.

    I took the hint and ducked again. A second ray of light etched itself upon the walls and metal tore. It fled before the attack unleashed by Callisto.

    ¡°Allie?¡± Callisto asked followed by the sounds of heavy breathing. She must be suffering backlash after using that crazy move twice.

    ¡°Still alive. And I¡¯m guessing that this ghost can see that snark thing,¡± Allegra answered.

    ¡°Does that help us?¡± Callisto asked.

    There was a ruffle of sound I couldn¡¯t quite place, followed by Leon¡¯s armor banging.

    ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t know either,¡± Callisto said. ¡°We¡¯ll need him though.¡±

    ¡°Him?¡± Leon asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s got to be a guy. Only a guy can be so stupidly infuriating.¡± Someone snorted. I frowned. Callisto continued, ¡°And lazy. He couldn¡¯t even be bothered to write out the full word. I mean, G-H-S-T? What is this nonsense.¡±

    That was me not wanting to be labeled by someone else. Midge had warned me of the dangers of letting someone else name me. I technically didn¡¯t even name myself, so much as say I was a ghost. One of many that surely haunted this ruined world. It fit, considering my first title in this world had been [Wanderer]. Maybe that¡¯s what Lance would be. An invisible ghost.

    ¡°We can¡¯t even see it. How do we fight a monster we can¡¯t see?¡± Leon asked.

    I C I-T, I etched.

    ¡°There¡¯s your answer. Ghost helps us. We kill the monster. The little oozes stop spawning. Life goes on and it¡¯s all sunshine and fucking rainbows until the next death trap.¡±

    ¡°What about¡­¡± Leon trailed off.

    No one said anything more. They must have been exchanging glances and shrugs. I listened closely for any sign of clothing or people moving. Other than a brief rustle of paper, there was nothing. That reminded me. Allegra could probably pass messages to them without my knowledge.

    ¡°All right. Let¡¯s explore some more, see if we can find a way to make this work. Ghost, if you¡¯re out there, tap once if you have any suggestions, twice if you don¡¯t.¡±

    I tapped twice, then hesitated, and tapped once because I did think of a problem.

    ¡°Great,¡± Callisto muttered.

    ¡°Maybe we¡¯re missing something,¡± Allegra suggested.

    We were. I tapped once upon the wall. As a collective whole, we were missing a lot but I hadn¡¯t figured out what. Now that I¡¯d seen the monster, how fast it moved, and started to explore its weaknesses, it would be easier to formulate a plan.

    And at least I had an idea of what was going on. I had little confidence in catching up with that speed demon of a man. Callisto¡¯s special move could do a large amount of damage. I would probably need to slow it down or distract the beast long enough for her to lop off its head. Then we¡¯d move onto whatever event happened next.

    ¡°I¡¯ll live through this too,¡± I muttered.

    That creature wouldn¡¯t defeat me.

    ¡°Did you guys hear that?¡± Callisto asked.

    I kept quiet. Speaking too loudly would ruin the fun. There was also the chance she¡¯d recognize my voice. It may have been a year or two in her version of the world, but it¡¯d only been half a year in mine. The car accident, shortly after she¡¯d left, then our time in this new world.

    I didn¡¯t want Callisto to know I existed. Not after how she¡¯d treated me and used Hawthorn. Lance could remain a ghost. It might be better that way.

 Book 2, Rule 18

    Rule 18

    Focus on Solutions & Learn from Mistakes

    Statement: The hardest part of this new world is compartmentalizing all the trauma that might occur. At some point the choice becomes simple¡ªdo we break down and give in to our mental demons, or do we simply put them in a box and survive? More interesting still, if we do come out the other end, in a ¡°normal¡± world¡ªwhat happens when those who chose to box up their mental demons, find them resurfacing? I imagine we could learn from PTSD cases, assuming anyone left alive knows anything about handling them.

    The creature showed up three more times. I crept slowly, studying if it could hear or find me in some manner. It seemed unable to distinguish me from the surroundings. Still, despite being unable to notice me, it avoided nets I¡¯d left strung in the hallways with ease and stepped around explosive runes. Additionally, the others showed no awareness of the wine flute I¡¯d left in their path. Or at least the path that their voices were in.

    My faint hope had been that if I could scratch a wall¡¯s paint and get messages across, they might see objects left behind as well.

    The current methods weren¡¯t working well. I¡¯d gotten to use to exploding monsters and stabbing anything remaining. The hulking smashes of my ogre form would probably have more success, but the hallways were too tiny for Mister Underwood.

    I struggled to measure all my choices. There were still too many situations to test. Next, I decided to try to net the creature and stab it in the face. It seemed like a simple enough plan provided I could shake it loose from the crates filled with goo. The gas would probably screw me up. I doubted it impacted the speedy rail-thin man because it didn¡¯t have a nose.

    ¡°Allie?¡± Callisto¡¯s rough and uneven voice crawled from nothingness next to my ear. We were practically on top of each other and I couldn¡¯t feel or see her.

    ¡°We keep looping. It¡¯s the same sixteen rooms. They¡¯re in a square pattern. Every time we get near the outer edge, my map shows everything shifting with us.¡±

    Interesting. Her map had the ability to show nearly anything she could think of, as I¡¯d seen when posing as Mister Underwood. The fact that we were stuck in a loop and the monster could hide from her¡ªand, apparently me¡ªwere worth noting as weaknesses, of hers, not the monsters. Not that I needed to exploit Allegra, but knowledge couldn¡¯t be ignored.

    They had limitations.

    ¡°Ghost, are you trapped too?¡± Callisto asked.

    I tapped once for yes.

    She continued, ¡°Can you try to go the other direction? Maybe we can break this by splitting up.¡±

    I tapped once. It probably wouldn¡¯t do any good but there was nothing to be lost by going a different way. The worst case is that monster might suddenly figure out how to detect me. So far it¡¯d been oddly disconnected in its choice of attacks. Maybe it simply trapped people here then let time, hunger, and thirst kill them. Maybe it never had to fight anyone because of the boulder.

    The others had already gone a separate direction when a chill arced down my back from a sudden thought. This creature was thin enough that it might have slipped behind the boulder and claimed this area. If that was true, then hunger and starvation wouldn¡¯t bother it. No other bodies or animals were in here. Maybe it had never fought anyone and was learning.

    Possibilities:

    <ul>

    <li>It simply wanted us to go away.</li>

    <li>It couldn¡¯t see the others but heard their sounds.</li>

    <li>It was also trapped.</li>

    <li>It was a gatekeeper to the treasure.</li>

    <li>It was a servant to a boss monster.</li>

    </ul>

    The ideas in my head spun in circles. I simply didn¡¯t know, and while talking to it was a possibility, that might also include it ripping my face off in a gruesome display of annoyance. I had no qualms about murdering the creature if it sought to kill me. It was self-defense.

    I would give it one chance. Though it might be aggravated enough to attack.

    There it stood again. Down a hallway that looked like every other hall in this place. It chose to follow me instead of the others.

    ¡°Still there?¡± I whispered.

    Its body jerked in a rapid-fire horror show fashion. The distance between us shrank to a dozen feet. It stood with its hands raised, and long glove covered fingers arched in my direction.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± I asked.

    The others were nowhere near us, so I didn¡¯t mind speaking. There might be other ways to communicate but I¡¯d decided against encoding complex messages in the moss, and anything I wrote would turn to gibberish anyway.

    ¡°Quiet,¡± it said. The words rolled into a stretched-out hiss and echoed softly.

    A fair request. The others were rather noisy. Leon and his armor jangled constantly and Callisto spent most of the time demanding information and ordering people about. The desire for silence made perfect sense. We, I, had also blown a hole in the entryway by shattering the rock. The noise must have bounced down these echoing halls and perhaps woke the creature.

    I needed to narrow down the possibilities. ¡°Will you let us go if we¡¯re quiet?¡±

    ¡°You will die,¡± it said.

    ¡°Not to you.¡± That much I¡¯d ensure. Death in this new world was certain. The method of my passing remained to be seen. This creature¡¯s death would help me grow and learn about my own abilities. All I needed was a bit of foolishness, a smidgen of wisdom, and a dash of bravery.

    Post Note: In hindsight, it could have simply been implying the inevitable. Oh well. Perhaps I simply wanted a reason to kill it.

    It flickered. I assumed it intended to attack and threw my dagger down the hall, point first. The creature reappeared, leaning back against a wall to let the blade pass. During the moment of distraction, I slammed an explosive rune on the wall next to me and dodged back into one of the rooms filled with goo carrying totes.

    The lingering echo from my sudden trap spell rang softly. The creature surely moved around out there. If it intended to hunt me then I¡¯d be prepared. Though being in this room put me in a corner, it also gave me a clear entryway to watch.

    I sat with my back against the crates and waited for my trap to trigger, expecting it to give me an edge for an ambush attack.

    Nothing happened. The creature made no sound. That bothered me. It spoke and could hear me despite not having ears or a mouth. My supposition about the gas might also be wrong.

    The pile of plastic containers abruptly wobbled then tipped. I turned my head from side to side searching for the creature. By the time I¡¯d checked both sides, the three containers had completely opened and fell to the ground.

    Liquid splashed everywhere. Once again, the green material brushed against moss and started a gaseous chain reaction. I held my breath in hopes the effect would lessen. The plastic tubs clattered loudly but their sound didn¡¯t echo.

    Only the creature could have tipped these stacks over. I hadn¡¯t moved enough to rustle them. The gas haze hit and my feet ran cold. Goo lined my pair of paints and further stained the shirt. I shrank into the corner and tried to minimize how much I stepped in.

    My knife stayed ready. A loud crack came from overhead. I jerked upward and prepared to fight off spiders, ogres, or whatever fresh hell this world would throw at me.

    A small grate waved back and forth. Behind it was a crawl space. It could travel in the vents. Then I did a double take as green liquid chilled my toes and the gas distorted my vision. There were vents. I¡¯d somehow missed the damned things despite doing laps around these halls. Maybe they hadn¡¯t existed before, or the creature¡¯s presence made me aware of them.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    Now I knew. This discovery had to be a clue. Everything we¡¯d fought so far had a weakness. Killing the enemy was a matter of overpowering it, leveraging my own strengths, or exploiting its problematic areas. Even Mister Yuck Yuck would have a weakness.

    Callisto and Leon¡¯s armor made loud clanking sounds as they looped back. I piled the crates using the clamor of noise as cover. Two crates, then three. My body wobbled, and hands were unsteady but it would pass. It all would pass, and I¡¯d survive this challenge.

    I climbed up and stuck my head into the vent. There was enough space to crawl one direction and maybe turn around. It¡¯d be a tight fit. That slender creature could probably go down these paths with more speed than I¡¯d ever dare.

    A stupid man would crawl into the vents after it or try to sneak up on the creature. A smarter one would see if the vents could explode first. It was time to use one of the goo creatures that formed after those totes were tipped.

    Post Note: I hadn¡¯t seen them, but I could infer their presence. My clues were three-fold.

    <ol>

    <li>Leon and Callisto clearly fought something. It may exist separate from me, but my tipping of the totes had caused them to spawn. </li>

    <li>They had mentioned oozes. Oozes were green, and the liquid inside the totes probably moved because of these creatures.</li>

    <li>Something popped and cast more goo around, after the totes had dropped.</li>

    </ol>

    What confused me was why these creatures dying caused a second pop of liquid that I could see, when the monsters were invisible. It was like I¡¯d gotten stuck in some glitch version of this place and had secret access. Originally, I¡¯d suspected it was part an evolved stealth ability, but it might be something stranger.

    Post Note: While, upon reflection¡ªI can say what I experienced¡ªfrom the start of this journal to the end, I have not figured out the actual reasons. I have suspicions and may be able to figure it out.

    The aftermath of our battle also bore consideration. If I did kill the monster, I might find myself suddenly visible to the others. Though I hadn¡¯t figured out why I existed in this strange other realm yet. It could have been a result of having so many orbs. Leon might know if I let him see me but that idea would be hard to realize.

    I took one of the totes and shoved it into the vent. They were just small enough to fit inside. The trio grew closer and I paused my actions. It was worth waiting to see if they¡¯d notice the rearranged containers. None of their commentary had mentioned these plastic totes with slimes in them.

    ¡°More slimes,¡± Leon said. A strong sigh followed from one of the women.

    ¡°My feet hurt,¡± Allegra¡¯s words were quieter.

    ¡°We knew this wouldn¡¯t be a walk in the park,¡± Callisto said.

    Metal clanged. Leon grunted and I saw the dull flash. There were a few more sounds of battle then nothing. I waited for them to comment on the totes I¡¯d stacked to reach the vent.

    ¡°What about the room?¡±

    Leon responded to Callisto¡¯s question. ¡°Empty. Like every other room. I can¡¯t tell them apart anymore. Allegra, is this a place we missed or are the oozes on different spawn timers? All of these slimes have the same descriptions. Ten hit points, no strength. I can¡¯t see these things killing anyone unless we fell asleep in a pool of them.¡±

    ¡°We might,¡± Callisto said. ¡°Ghost? Any suggestions?¡±

    She either knew I was there, listening, or assumed I¡¯d be around. We couldn¡¯t exactly get far away from each other. I tapped twice.

    ¡°He¡¯s in the room?¡± Leon asked.

    ¡°Probably exploring it like we are,¡± Allegra said. ¡°I still can¡¯t get him to show up on the map.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. I get the feeling that it¡¯s better if we can¡¯t see him. Fuck it. Let¡¯s keep moving.¡± Callisto¡¯s stomps were clear, even without being able to see her storm down the hall.

    ¡°Maybe we¡¯re failing a perception check,¡± Leon said. ¡°Allegra do you have a buff for¡­¡± His voice faded into the distance along with the sound of clinking armor.

    They were gone. I pondered over their inability to see the crates with monsters inside. Maybe there were other places in the world like this. It could have also been because this series of rooms were sealed away. Or it had to do with the circular maze that we were trapped in. Either way, I needed to see if I could seal the vents and limit the thin man¡¯s movement.

    If I could do that, then get Callisto to cast her beam down the hallways, it might be possible to herd him into an attack. I got back onto the crates, poked my head into the vent and opened the lid. It flopped to the side like any other storage container. Were it not for the see-through sides, I could have expected clothes or books to be packed away.

    The liquid sloshed with more violence. I pooled red energy from the book still hanging inside my stretched pants pocket. Seconds later the explosive rune armed and I made it across the hall to witness the results of my tests.

    An explosion rocked the room. Sound echoed all around. Liquid splattered from a different angle. I smirked. This was rather amusing. Especially since the slimes were clearly too stupid to avoid crawling out to their deaths. It also confirmed even though the thin creature seemed capable of bypassing my spells, these little monsters weren¡¯t, despite being invisible to me.

    I crossed the hallway to get a better look at the results. Down the hall the stood the slender human. It put a finger up to where its mouth should be. ¡°Quiet, ghost! Sleep now!¡± the creature shouted, completely at odds with its loud voice.

    His sudden yell echoed. My ears rang. I found myself tilting to one side while the walls still bubbled furiously. I took short shallow breaths but the freshly summoned knife stayed steady.

    The others must be using Allegra¡¯s powers to cleanse any effects from the gas. Leon had called it a poison. To me it felt closer to what my dad had described as an acid trip. Not that I relished relying on anything my father had said. It was more about heeding the key line, when the drugs hit, don¡¯t panic. Panic makes the trip worse.

    The quick bodied creature flickered then vanished. I counted to twelve and turned to the room I¡¯d destroyed. Inside was an utter mess. The two stacks of crates I¡¯d left untouched were all tipped. Most were open. More liquid than ever lined the walls. I stared as it slowly faded away.

    There might be monsters all around me. I couldn¡¯t see them and stayed to see what happened. The room remained damaged. The vent had been destroyed. Bent metal curved backward and sharp jagged spikes lined its edges. Anyone trying to crawl through that would probably get cut.

    I couldn¡¯t figure out if that was useful or bad. There was time to sort out the results. Other than mild hunger I had no urgent rush to escape this maze. Under my gaze, little about the room changed. Effects of the gas faded and I only felt itchy. The totes were a jumbled mess. Even the slime that coated the walls faded away while moss steadily regrew.

    ¡°Down here.¡± Allegra¡¯s voice broke the silence. ¡°This room has changed. I don¡¯t know why.¡±

    ¡°Ghost?¡±

    I tapped once on the wall and waited for the others to explore the area. They might not like what I¡¯d done but their opinions didn¡¯t matter. We were trapped. I still had other questions, like how could a creature with no mouth speak? What did it use for oxygen? Then again, I summoned objects from a magical black hole in my hand.

    ¡°Slimes,¡± Leon called. ¡°These are bigger. Six. No, more. Mayor Kent give us strength!¡±

    The sound of special moves unleashing followed. The hallway lit with a muffled version of Leon¡¯s hammer stun. Paper rustling could be heard.

    I stood there, feeling annoyingly useless. It would have truly bothered me if I¡¯d slipped on the Hawthorn body. He¡ªI, as him¡ªrelished combat. He was a creature of the moment who sought pleasure and adrenaline.

    My head shook to brush those thoughts away. I had no way to know what would happen if I put on either form. It might ruin this whole mess. Besides, that explosion had clearly changed something important, or Allegra wouldn¡¯t have marched the others in this direction.

    ¡°Kill them all! Purge the unbelievers!¡± Leon shouted.

    Their weapons clanged. Leon¡¯s hammer thudded into the ground creating a ripple effect that vibrated my toes. I flinched and studied my feet for signs of being turned into pancakes. Sounds, lights, and more noise filled the hall right outside my experimentation room.

    ¡°We clear?¡± Callisto asked.

    I wondered if Mister Underwood could smell her. That scent of brushed metal and oils had been strong. It was nothing like the softer fragrance from Allegra. Both thoughts were pushed away. I lifted my latest knife and tapped on the wall under the exploded vent.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Callisto asked.

    For a moment, I felt weak. They were together exploring this place. I had nothing to see. To me, they were the ghosts, haunting me, while I thought of myself as real. I pushed that away too and tapped the wall again.

    ¡°He¡¯s trying to get our attention,¡± Allegra responded.

    ¡°For what? This place is like everything else. Empty.¡±

    My eyes tightened from frustration. The ladies clearly hadn¡¯t noticed the giant gaping hole along the ceiling. Maybe they couldn¡¯t see it. I remembered that the rooms had flickering lights and searched for them now. There were no lightbulbs or lamps. Still, that dull haze persisted.

    Post Note: I surmise that the flickering was the creature traveling back and forth through the vents¡ªbut can¡¯t be sure. The only thing I could confirm is that there were no lights directly inside the room but they still had separate illumination.

    More experiments might help. Failing that I could blow up every single vent and force the creature to travel down the hallways instead. Thought its speed would still be problematic to deal with. Combining a net and the explosive trap might entangle it.

    I crept down a hallway, found an undisturbed room and tipped over all the crates. This time, instead of walking away to explore the area, I waited.

    Leon and crew clambered through. They fought the monsters and won. I tuned out the majority of conversation since no one said anything useful or new. My gaze locked on the emptied room and displaced crates.

    Time passed. Not a lot. Enough for the trio to loop through again.

    Then the vent opened. I hadn¡¯t even heard the hinges come undone or the squeak of metal as it flopped down. Silent and steady, the creature took away emptied totes. It moved so fast that all I caught were snaps of the scene. It removed each container, brought back a dozen more, and stacked them carefully.

    Fresh green liquid sloshed inside.

    The monster was using the vents to replenish the stacks. A dozen different possibilities passed through my mind, each one more surreal than the last. It could be zipping away and scooping up those slimes from a pool. It could have booby trapped this place with crates that no one else could see. That would explain why Allegra and the others saw the monsters but not the buckets.

    I was learning. Next I¡¯d limit the creature¡¯s movements and deny its speed; I¡¯d have to coordinate with the others. After that would be the prizes I longed for, new abilities, and freedom from this entrapment.

 Book 2, Rule 19

    Rule 19

    Dungeon Managers Layer & Everything Bleeds

    Statement: There are few vile hatreds I have in this new world. Slavery, being trapped, being out of control. Generally, my life is my own and while my choices may be limited, I still make the final decision on the lesser of two evils. I think this expectation¡ªthis ability¡ªis important to everyone. Protecting Stella is a demonstration of a chain I choose to wear.

    I say this, because in the past I¡¯d found myself at odds with the ease I felt in murdering select people. The slaver Coach Madison had partnered with is one such example. I hated his black necklaces of servitude so much that I ended his life without much hesitation or worry. In this maze, I had been jailed for a short time, and my jailer was the slender man. So, he too, was doomed to die.

    According to Allegra¡¯s disembodied voice, there were sixteen rooms. I¡¯d spent an hour blowing up vents in eight of them, in addition to the one I¡¯d already damaged. This wasn¡¯t me being inefficient. The effect of the gas had grown worse.

    I staggered out of number nine and fought back a dry cough. There was a room around the corner that had recently been destroyed. My first goal was to knock out a solid three by three block, which I¡¯d done.

    ¡°What is this ghost doing?¡± Callisto asked.

    They had caught up with my latest bout of destruction. The sound of small incorporeal slimes blowing up must still be audible to them. I mean, even our separate dimensions¡ªor, existences, whatever the proper label was¡ªlet sound travel. My talking and metal booming were far apart on the decibel meter.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Leon responded.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t your quest say anything?¡±

    ¡°It says nine out of sixteen.¡± Leon¡¯s armor clanked from a probable shrug.

    They were useless. So far it felt like I¡¯d done everything in this stupid place. I¡¯d found the hidden monster. I¡¯d figured out how it traveled. I¡¯d even taken steps to limit its movement. They couldn¡¯t even communicate with the damn thing. Though, in fairness, I couldn¡¯t see game stats or quest markers. And I wouldn¡¯t have figured out a lot of information if it weren¡¯t for their constant yammering.

    I couldn¡¯t remember them speaking this freely before. Maybe it was me. They simply didn¡¯t like Hawthorn or Mister Underwood or whatever. But a ghost didn¡¯t bother them. I flipped off the empty purple haze and hoped that it would reach my bitch of an ex-girlfriend.

    ¡°Can you guys hear that? Is it more slimes?¡±

    ¡°No. It sounds like¡±¡ªAllegra drifted off before settling on a description¡ª¡°coughing?¡±

    ¡°Maybe he¡¯s poisoned?¡±

    I tapped the wall once with my dagger. The world was still bursting at the seams. Bulges appeared along the walls. My dagger¡¯s point pressed against the metal and a rolling distortion passed through the knife and continued down the wall.

    My head swam.

    ¡°This will pass,¡± I mumbled.

    ¡°Allie?¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t see him. Can¡¯t heal him. But the map shows these rooms all grayed out. Whatever that means.¡±

    Her inability to heal me didn¡¯t matter. My own regenerative abilities kept me going. Though my body, which apparently stole muscle tissue and fats to fix me, would eventually run out of material to work with. Even now, I felt exhausted. I had no shirt or well fitting pants and nothing to eat for almost a day. Hunger alone would have been fine. Hunger, and fighting was something else entirely.

    ¡°So, he blocked out a square?¡± Callisto asked. ¡°Is that to help us? What happens if he does, whatever, in all these rooms?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve noticed that the monsters aren¡¯t spawning in these locations, right?¡± Leon asked. ¡°Thank Mayor Kent for a small miracle. No more monsters out of thin air.¡±

    I banged my knife handle against the wall then devolved into a full-on coughing fit. The room spun.

    Over the course of my explosions I¡¯d discovered they couldn¡¯t completely hear me. Or least they acted that way. Reality and supposition were hard to separate. It made sense, or they would have freaked out at that skinny man¡¯s shouting earlier. They must only be getting muffled bits.

    The thin man stood down the hall again. He was even more ghostlike than me. If he had a means to attack, he should have. All this destruction I¡¯d done had to be crimping his current style. Maybe I¡¯d given him too much credit.

    The cashier monster we¡¯d fought in a dungeon also spoke. It¡¯d shouted twisted lines at us like ¡°exact change only¡± or something close. Confusing the ability to speak for actual intelligence was a frequent problem, in both this new world and the old one. High school had been a prime example.

    ¡°It¡¯s a kill box. Look. Allie you said there was something else here. If we can meet at these junctions. Here. Here, and here.¡± Callisto must have been pointing at the blonde¡¯s map. I hoped they were.

    My knife tapped weakly against the wall.

    ¡°And ghost is running out of time. Those last few strikes are weaker. It¡¯s got to be more than poison,¡± Callisto said. ¡°At least I feel like we¡¯re on the right track.¡±

    Another tap. It could have gone with either of her statements. But if I was in trouble, so were they. They were lucky. Allegra usually had snacks hidden away in her duffle. I still only had a pair of loose pants, a messy shirt, and my spell book.

    Post Note: I wonder, was it better to be myself, but have no one know it was me? It seems that it¡¯s been this way all along. I am not who I am, but who I pretend to be. But is that unique? Before, this place, it could be argued that we all pretended to be someone else. Right?

    The monster might have been frowning. It could have laughed as well. Maybe it only judged my position in confused silence. It could feel my heat, that I knew. But it didn¡¯t seem to care and whooshed away again.

    ¡°So, what are we doing. Boxing it in?¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t. Not by blocking out rooms anyway. Is that ghost thing trying to reduce it to one room?¡±

    I did, but another six rooms might leave me unconscious on the floor. That¡¯s what the creature had implied. I¡¯d be quiet then. It was possible that slipping into unconsciousness would result in death. The monster might pray on people falling asleep.

    The remaining rooms all connected along two lines. I¡¯d confirmed that by walking past three rooms and coming to a whole, undamaged vent, before heading into exploded land again. In my mind, this was about measuring the creature¡¯s territory, forcing it to react differently, and limiting its movement routes. Anything beyond that was outside my scope.

    ¡°Maybe a slash this way? Depending on light I can try a stun. Might cover these halls here.¡±

    ¡°No. That still leaves these halls open.¡± Their words were almost useless. Allegra would hum every now and then. Callisto¡¯s finger probably jabbed paper. Being unable to visually spy on people was boring. ¡°Even if you sat there and managed to block the entire path. All the halls are intact. Whatever ghost is fighting can still escape anything we try to do. It could go this way. Or that way. It might even be able to walk through walls. Remember Mayor Kent¡¯s pet monster? That thing walked right through walls.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°Walks. Mayor Kent¡¯s blessed beast is around still,¡± Leon added.

    That small tidbit of information interested me. The horse monster was still the outright scariest creature I¡¯d seen. It also worried me. If it could walk through walls, then getting to Stella would only take a whim.

    ¡°At least we have less slimes,¡± Leon repeated.

    ¡°Mmmhm.¡± Allegra sighed in a way I took as happy.

    ¡°What about the creature? That¡¯s where our focus should be. Not on these rooms. We need to kill the monster.¡± Callisto¡¯s voice reminded me of metal. The gas was screwing my perception. I¡¯d been dosed a dozen times since being trapped here and each time took longer to clear.

    ¡°I¡¯m running low on mana and haven¡¯t been checking as frequently.¡±

    It had to be costing Allegra a lot of mana or whatever she used to keep those maps up to date. We¡¯d spoken about it in the woods and I got the impression keeping them up to real time was a constant drain. She¡¯d showed me a copy of Leon¡¯s theoretical bars representing mana and health.

    ¡°Should we be talking about this in front of the ghost?¡± Leon asked.

    ¡°Do you have any ideas?¡± Callisto asked. ¡°Because my gut says there¡¯s no other way out. It¡¯s got to be a place like Lance said. Remember him?¡± She paused. I assume the other two nodded, but my brain froze for a moment. It had to be a coincidence someone else named Lance had survived. ¡°He said there are mazes with no exit. Once you¡¯re in them, you have to break the place to get out. But I can¡¯t!¡±

    A foot stomped.

    I snorted in amusement.

    ¡°Quiet,¡± a voice whispered in my ear.

    ¡°Mother¡ª¡± My head turned sharply and I caught the fleeting edge of the damn white-faced, featureless monster. It was already retreating.

    ¡°Fuck you!¡± I shouted.

    ¡°Quiet!¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s that noise again,¡± Leon mumbled.

    ¡°Fuck you too!¡± I directed my anger toward the balding bus driver. He ignored my outcry. I banged on the wall a dozen times with my knife¡¯s pommel.

    I was losing my mind. These last few hours had been an exercise in patience. I¡¯d run out. This place was going to be the death of me. So what if I managed to blow up all sixteen rooms? It wouldn¡¯t unlock a secret tunnel. This world wasn¡¯t a video game to be solved in such an inane manner. We weren¡¯t in a dungeon where the rules were warped and self-contained.

    My chest heaved in slow steadying breaths. This place must have been created through intelligent design. Be it lingering thought patterns, influences from dead human psyches, or some asshole in a control room giggling to himself, this place hadn¡¯t simply popped into being.

    The biggest clue was the creature re-stocker. That¡¯s what he really did. One simple task and nothing else. He brought monsters in, triggered them when people got too close, and fled before anyone could attack him. It was deliberate. My real concern was if he chose to do those things to help hasten our demise and keep us spending energy, or if some jerk set him here with a task like a mindless robot.

    Post Note: I mean, he couldn¡¯t simply pop out of the ether and go, ¡°This place looks fantastic for a bunch of plastic containers filled with slime monsters¡± right? What kind of¡ªon second thought this inquiry shouldn¡¯t be finished. Obviously, this world is insane. That¡¯s it. It¡¯s simply crazy and I should spend less time trying to analyze it. But I can¡¯t¡ªI may really lose my mind if I don¡¯t understand ¡°why¡± these events happen.

    My quandary lasted too long. The others sounded like they were faring better than myself, and they had to fight slimes. I only had a disturbing otherworldly companion who kept shouting at me to shut up. I felt thankful he didn¡¯t develop a large face at his torso and try to eat me. On the other hand, I didn¡¯t know how to relate to monsters too fast to be stabbed. This world had trained me to kill inhuman creatures first and ask questions later.

    I regretted not stabbing it right away. Asking what its intentions were had been a mistake. I could write it off as not wanting to eliminate options when trapped, but that¡¯d be half a lie. It had me worried, distracted, and almost scared.

    ¡°Look here,¡± Allegra said. ¡°The map shows a different symbol.¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°I have no clue, but whatever ghost is doing to these rooms, is being undone. That¡¯s got to be why the gray lines are going away. See? The one in the middle is being rubbed out. Maybe that was a key room?¡±

    I pulled myself out of the funk and got up. One hand readied a fresh blade, the other an explosive spell. I put it on top of a discarded plastic container that the monster-moving-foe hadn¡¯t cleaned up. Seconds later I¡¯d dropped it in favor of a more ridiculous idea for my explosion spell.

    ¡°Ghost?¡±

    I didn¡¯t have time to tap on a wall or shout. The monster moved quick, but if it was distracted then I¡¯d be able to get the jump on it. There¡¯d be no escape this time.

    ¡°Ghost?¡± Callisto¡¯s voice bounced down the hall after me.

    There was no time to waste. The creature had to be in the process of fixing the vents. That¡¯s the only thing that had changed and might impact Allegra¡¯s maps. I rounded two corners before slowing to listen. This creature showed an amazing dislike for sound, which meant I had to sneak up on it.

    The starry blade went under an arm. I pulled out the netting and put my explosive rune in its threads. This was a new trick I hadn¡¯t used but the rune didn¡¯t seem to care about the gaps caused by net¡¯s shape. It glommed on twisted material to form the shape of the explosive spell. I stared at the frozen night sky swirls that now had a tinge of red mixed in. The rune glowing across it reminded me of miniature suns instead of the smaller dots that were like distant stars.

    My lips pursed and I made a mental note to throw it first. I didn¡¯t need another title like [Knife-Eared Exploder] on my business card.

    With that in mind, I tiptoed down the hall. The others would hopefully get lost for a moment, giving me time to launch an attack. If I was lucky, Callisto would time her light blade with me flushing it out of the hallway. Maybe Leon could use his hammer.

    Post Note: I wonder why it picked the worst room to start repairing? Maybe it didn¡¯t know what else to do. Or it simply started with the first room I¡¯d blown a hole in¡ªlike the rest were in a queue. I¡¯ll never know.

    There it was, inside the room, with both hands locked on a piece of metal grating that had bent backward in to barbed hooks. Its shirt tugged at the edge. It pulled away only to reach a limit, like the grating and clothing worked together as a leash of sorts.

    I smiled. The creature had tried to repair the damage and got stuck. I didn¡¯t know if it was a stroke of dumb luck or God giving me a break, either way I leapt to remove a problem. The net flew from my hands to where the monster stood.

    It hardly noticed as my trap curled around its body. It reached for the grating again and jerked as its hands refused to come completely free.

    The monster¡¯s head turned. I smiled and stood in the doorway. The creature had been pinned with no way to escape.

    Its speed nearly caught me off guard. The slender monster flew by. My hand grabbed onto the netting. We moved from one room to the next in the blink of an eye. The thin man stopped while my body continued into a wall. I crashed and jerked the bit of material in my hand. Air flew out of my lungs in a huff. My legs curled tightly to protect my wounded side.

    It had to die, no matter what happened this was the closest we¡¯d come to killing our jailer. My knife slowly lifted. The creature fell in my direction, limbs flailing madly to gain purchase. Then we moved again. The scene changed. We were in a hall. I refused to let go. Then we were in another room I¡¯d exploded. My lungs burned with the need to take a breath.

    ¡°There!¡± Allegra shouted.

    A flash of light careened down the hall. Callisto¡¯s ranged attack tore the walls with a sharp metal on metal sound. The creature moved again, but our scene didn¡¯t change. It stumbled and fell to the ground. One arm weakly tried to escape my net.

    I ducked but firmly held the net. It reached out toward something behind me. A sudden horizontal beam cut off the monster¡¯s outstretched fingers. The creature jerked us to a new location. Bile crawled up from my stomach. These sudden shifts made my head spin. We¡¯d moved so many times that I couldn¡¯t see straight.

    My thoughts reset as cold liquid splashed my face. A small hiss of noise filled the air as green goo and moss started their chemical reaction. The world rattled and shook and I tilted right into a wall and fell to the ground.

    A explosion echoed down the hall. My ears rang and everything went silent. I couldn¡¯t hear. Distortions painted the world purple and black, making insane bulges roll across the walls and my own flesh.

    ¡°I will survive this.¡± I stood on wobbling legs.

    ¡°Quiet! Quiet,¡± it repeated the word over and over, slowly devolving from shouting to a whimper.

    The monster was inside a room. Pieces of plastic and green goo everywhere. Allegra and the others would have a freshly triggered batch of monsters to deal with once they figured out which room we¡¯d gone to.

    My net was in shambles. Pieces of the starry rope were seared into the creature¡¯s skin. A hole in its side showed where the explosive rune had detonated. I realized that this caretaker hadn¡¯t set off the trap, but the oozes inside its tubs had. It must have moved too quick and knocked them over, triggering my spell.

    Still, it was tough. Perhaps more resilient than me. Though I¡¯d lost both legs and an arm. It might also heal and that was unacceptable. I walked in slowly. The creature jerked an arm and I reached for the netting in case it zipped away again.

    Thankfully, it barely managed to stand. The slender creature¡¯s body rocked a moment before I dove for the weak spot that surely lay at its neck. White blood gushed. It made me happy¡ªto know this monster could bleed. Weaknesses implied mortality. Mortality meant they weren¡¯t above me.

    It spun. My other arm wrapped around its chest holding it still as my blade dug in.

    ¡°Shush, shush, shush,¡± I whispered near where its ear should be. It might not matter. It might not hear me.

    The creature¡¯s one free and functioning arm batted pathetically at my face. I knew I¡¯d heal and simply rode out the last of his sad efforts to stay alive. The creature whimpered. I kept an arm locked around its neck then took a moment to jerk my knife out and stab it in with more force.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. Shush. It¡¯ll be quiet forever now,¡± I said.

    Before it fully registered, I stabbed the knife into its chest, again, and again. The creature stopped moving. It barely twitched as the blade tore apart its all too human body. This damned thing had kept us trapped here, I was sure of it. Being caged like a mindless animal bugged me beyond belief.

    I leaned over the lump of meat and its alien white body. ¡°Listen? Can you hear it?¡±

    He, or she, couldn¡¯t anymore. I smiled as a rush of tingles shot down my back and legs. This was good. This was cathartic. Never mind that I had clearly gone insane. My head tilted in the same direction as my deceased companion¡¯s. We both stared at the door, well, I did.

    ¡°That¡¯s the sound of silence,¡± I whispered in a blissful tone.

 Book 2, Rule 20

    Rule 20

    Adapt & Overcome

    Statement: Many times, as I write out these adventures, I wonder what the point is. Is it a lesson I want others to learn? Perhaps. With my first journal, I believed I might die at any moment. I still do and have come close more times than I¡¯d expected. Yet, it¡¯s less of a chance to share my journeys with others, and more to take note of the changes in myself. A study on who I was and who I¡¯m becoming.

    In a way, that¡¯s more frightening thansxaz the idea I might die¡ªthat is, the knowledge that I¡¯m turning into a monster. That I¡¯m becoming one, or perhaps had been one all along, simply waiting for the chance to break free.

    His body didn¡¯t dissolve right away. It took time. I knelt and studied his nearly featureless face. This man could have been human before the event, like the dryad and her giant husband. They could have been a monster born of the magical energy which made creatures like mini-orcs pop up out of nowhere.

    I didn¡¯t know. Its clothes provided me little in the way of hints. They were thick and shredded. My earlier tantrum had been ill advised, but at least the monster wasn¡¯t going to get up again. I continued studying. These clothes might have been a uniform but had faded under the white blood oozing everywhere. None of it mattered.

    Suddenly it occurred to me there might be more of these creatures. Maybe there had been dozens and they¡¯d witnessed me savagely goring their companion. I stood and poked my head out the door. Dull moss-covered metal lined the walls in both directions. No hint of any other slim humanoid shapes. No missing mates or brothers from another mother. Not even my sort of estranged party members tromping through the halls.

    I tilted back slightly and looked at the vents. They might serve as an escape now. The remaining seven rooms should be safe enough to travel in. I¡¯d give it a few minutes and hope no new creatures filled the void I¡¯d recently made by killing that quick bastard.

    Then there was my own status. My clothes were a wreck. I pulled my shirt out slightly and frowned at the mess of glowing white remains. Some of the thicker bits were internal organs. I could taste the pasty foulness that burned like vodka and smelled faintly of oranges.

    Post Note: In hindsight, this whole affair was rather twisted. I¡¯d killed to regain freedom. But it¡¯s worse than that. I brutalized due to annoyance. There was a fine line that simply hadn¡¯t needed to be crossed. Worse still, I felt better after the additional savagery. It was uncivilized¡ªand simply recalling it showed me how far I¡¯d fallen.

    ¡°You hear that?¡± Callisto asked. ¡°Allie? Something¡¯s changed. What happened?¡±

    ¡°My quest updated,¡± Leon said. ¡°It says kill the King Slime.¡±

    ¡°The walls are gone,¡± Allegra added. ¡°See the map? They¡¯re transforming. It¡¯s like we¡¯re collapsing. Or there¡¯s another map.¡±

    ¡°Might be a phased instance. Maybe ghost is on one of the layers? It would explain why he can affect our layer. But then this quest might happen on another one.¡±

    ¡°Layers?¡± Allegra said. Papers shuffled.

    I rolled my eyes and took note as the world around me dissolved too. It was as though the walls simply ceased to be one piece at a time. It could be that I existed on a third, or even fourth version of this place. Either way, I¡¯d see the results soon enough.

    For now, I needed to know if this creature would provide me a new spell or not. After what felt like forever, the monster faded into a single white orb bigger than my head. It hovered there, seemingly with a mind of its own compared to the normal results of killing monsters. A chill crept up and down my spine and I pushed it aside.

    There were too many possibilities to that resistant flying ball of light. It could have been special like the necklace. It could be waiting for something like the black sword. I still didn¡¯t have a firm grasp on the logic of how spells formed or what linked them together.

    Post Note: While we¡¯re on the topic, here are questions for later. Some I¡¯ll get to by the end of this journal, others, are still outstanding problems to be solved:

    <ul>

    <li>Why did the dead man¡¯s sword turn into black orbs and let me store objects in a pocket space? Form and function seem unrelated.</li>

    <li>Why did the first lantern give me an explosive spell that functioned differently on my ogre form? Function seems influenced by body.</li>

    <li>Why did the dryad dying give me a special ability but not the giant? Likely, not all magical shapes are compatible.</li>

    <li>What were the sharp teeth mixed in with the ogre¡¯s flat teeth? The demon on the bus had similar teeth, in shape and color.</li>

    <li>Could Little Shade or Midge have used the necklace? Why didn¡¯t they try? This argues to them being trustworthy, despite being stabbed and magically electrocuted upon parting.</li>

    <li>Where the fuck is a manual for this weird world? I¡¯m inclined to believe the stewardesses may have given anyone who asked a guidebook but it would have been misleading.</li>

    </ul>

    The white orb bobbed along slowly, without care or concern. This bothered me. It should have been absorbed by someone in the first few seconds of existing. Normally every energy orb I¡¯d seen functioned in a similar manner.

    ¡°Anything else?¡± Callisto¡¯s voice broke the silence.

    The orb stopped. I¡¯d swear it spun but the energy had no face or eyes of note.

    ¡°No,¡± Allegra responded.

    ¡°We need to get ready. I think there¡¯s a boss next.¡± Leon¡¯s armor rustled.

    ¡°But this isn¡¯t a dungeon,¡± Callisto said.

    ¡°I think,¡± Leon paused then his voice trembled as he continued, ¡°I think it was going to be, but we caught it as it was forming.¡±

    The white orb shrank from the disembodied voices and pulled into a corner. The air blurred and the orb started to fade like the walls had. I couldn¡¯t let it get away or be scared off by their sudden conversation or vanish into another phase, whatever a phase meant. Leon¡¯s terms often threw me off.

    The lantern had taken physical contact. Maybe this was the same. I drove my book into the orb. There was no reason to be picky at this stage, especially when each possible unique power might give me new tools. Only a few spell slots were left, and once I filled them I could worry about learning how to expand my options.

    The white orb was swallowed by my book¡¯s exposed pages. I turned it back around, flipped to the back, and noticed something I¡¯d never seen before. Two business cards were imprinted on the book¡¯s back binding. Both mostly illegible, one said Hephaestus, and the other Atropos. I frowned and filed it away for later.

    Post Note: Since later is relevant, here are more questions to ponder.

    <ul>

    <li>How is it I¡¯m able to get to the spells so quickly? Some of it is practice, but the rest seems instinctual¡ªto the point of it happening while I¡¯m unaware.</li>

    <li>How are the business cards being stored? I don¡¯t remember putting them into the book¡¯s pages at all. </li>

    <li>What is the lore behind Hephaestus and Atropos? They remind me of history class, but I can¡¯t remember the details. This worries me, because there¡¯s hints in everything.</li>

    <li>How exactly is the spell book constantly in my presence? Prior to this world, I could hardly keep a jacket more than a few months without leaving it behind somewhere.</li>

    </ul>

    ¡°Ready?¡± Callisto asked.

    ¡°Ready,¡± Leon answered.

    ¡°No,¡± Allegra said then sighed. ¡°But I never am.¡±

    I refocused my attention on the new spell. White energy fluttered under the page¡¯s mirror-like surface. I watched to see if this ability would somehow crack the strange material the book was made of. It wouldn¡¯t surprise me if one of the pages swallowed more than it could handle. Magic¡¯s rules seemed to cater to fuzzy logic over hard numbers.

    After a minute, the spell settled and rolled around like every other set of bobbing lights from the other pages. I pondered what white might represent. Maybe this one would turn me into a frog. I had hopes this latest ability wouldn¡¯t be some stupid alternate body with screwed up side effects. It was awkward enough becoming an ogre with the green spell, or a male dryad with the brown one. If I turned into a blind spindly man I might simply break the page, no matter how fast he could move.

    Time was always limited. I pooled white energy onto my fingertips. It took even less effort than normal to find the correct gesture. Fingers locked into position where everything nearly touched and the milky glow illuminated my tips. I stared at the pasty lights. Like my explosive rune on Mister Underwood, the energy hung for a moment then flowed down.

    The energy continued. I felt sick but rode out the effect. My body showed no sign of shifting into some new creature. My arm moved and a slight hallucinogenic after effect lingered. I stuck an arm toward a wall and pushed slowly. My palm sank in slowly. It wasn¡¯t strength. My hand could actually push through the remaining outer thick metal wall. I pulled back and stared at my hand. No sign of being harmed or any flesh missing.

    That glow suffused everything. My foot moved and for a moment I felt sleepy, or sick. Delirious perhaps. Enough that my leg felt like an alien creature I¡¯d seen out of the corner of my eye. I stared. The sight reminded me I still needed new pants. I needed new everything. The trashcan full of spider webs would hopefully be useful. I still had the golden thread in my other pocket. It stuck out slightly and I made sure to bundle it tightly in the loose pocket.

    This place couldn¡¯t be a video game as Leon thought. It felt far too annoying to be anything but reality. I had to deal with clothes and holding items. Worse still, these spells had time limits and side effects. A game world would simply give me magic without any sort of problems.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Ghost? Are you there?¡±

    ¡°I found those phases. There¡¯s three left. Ours, and one with a dot I can¡¯t identify,¡± Allegra said. ¡°Hold on. The third is merging in. That has your Slime King.¡± Metal armor rustled.

    I mostly tuned out the others while experimenting. This new effect might fade in a few minutes, or it might be a long-term enchantment like the alternate bodies. Even if it only lasted ten minutes, that was still a long time to take advantage of.

    Now that we supposedly no longer trapped, it might be best if the mystery companion ¡°G-H-S-T¡± faded away. They had a treasure to nab, and while I¡¯d certainly gained an intangible something, literally, if we were collapsing together it might be awkward.

    ¡°Ghost?¡± Callisto asked again. ¡°Anyone. Did he die? Allie?¡±

    She almost sounded concerned. Probably because she¡¯d lost a potential tool in her great chess game.

    ¡°The dot¡¯s still there. I think it¡¯ll merge after us, but the new map we¡¯re going to is mostly blocked out. We have maybe fifteen seconds before battle,¡± Allegra said. I heard a rustle of armor that might be Leon shaking his head.

    ¡°Yep. Countdown timer just popped,¡± Leon added. ¡°A second one right after, two minutes.¡±

    I¡¯d never intended to become entangled with them anyway. My goal had simply been to sneak in, take anything of value to help me survive, and rush back to town and take care of the damn ogre infestation. Showing up and going, ¡°Hey guys, I¡¯m still alive, tee-hee¡± sounded like a useless gesture. Especially considering their views on Hawthorn. That gave me two minutes and change to find a way to escape or conceal my identity. Glowing white might help.

    Still, Allegra would quickly see through the false identity. Around us, or me and their faint voices, the walls continued to melt away. I sniffed and readied my blade and bomb. The glowing white energy still suffused my skin and gave my explosive rune and dagger a strange hue. I waved the blade and wondered why it¡¯d become different, like a moon, instead of the thick sea of stars that normally formed the material.

    ¡°Is that our boss? A giant slime?¡± Callisto asked.

    ¡°Marker says so,¡± Leon responded.

    ¡°Then that¡­¡± Allegra¡¯s voice trailed off.

    Callisto groaned. The thought brought with it a flashback of better times. She groaned like that when I¡ªas Lance, before the accident¡ªsaid something she didn¡¯t like.

    My mind shifted. I wondered how many layers of Allegra¡¯s robes had been plastered with green gunk. Callisto might also have her clothing attractively destroyed but I¡¯d decided to hate her for a while. Plus, while not Hawthorn, I could entertain such thoughts and not be consumed by them.

    My eyes tightened. As the walls faded I got a better view of our surroundings. We were in a flattened out room. It reminded me of a hangar for huge airplanes, only there were no airplanes at all. Only a green slab of opaque goo hanging from the far wall.

    I groaned too, understanding the earlier reason for their annoyance. It was a huge mass of dried goo that extended into this layer. Based on the tubs from earlier, there was certainly a ¡°Slime King¡± sitting there.

    Prizes might be in a fourth phase. By now, those three should be fighting a boss, which meant I¡¯d be joining them soon unless I found a way to escape. I heard metal scraping sounds that reminded me of Leon¡¯s armor and Callisto¡¯s sword swinging. Their invisible battled carried on.

    I scanned the walls while keeping myself low to the ground. There were bits of moss like before. That hadn¡¯t changed, but they were farther away.

    The pile of goo didn¡¯t move. I ran for the wall opposite the slime coating and pressed my face against the curved surface. There were no obvious grooves or handles. My white spell let me sink slowly through the material but it was like moving through syrup. Air resistance hadn¡¯t changed so traveling through walls might have to do with particle density or some other unknown factor.

    I stared at the milky white dagger again and frowned. One hand waved as an experiment. It still lit with tracer effects chasing after the blade. This was only vaguely like the slender man I¡¯d murdered to get it. Once again magic didn¡¯t seem to have a direct link between where I¡¯d gained it and the results.

    ¡°Bunching up!¡± Callisto said. ¡°Leap attack.¡±

    The ground vibrated seconds later. My teeth rattled from the impact and feet slipped. I should have listened when she¡¯d given a warning, even if the monster and I weren¡¯t together, the vibrations were intense.

    ¡°It¡¯s withdrawing, Leon, stun!¡±

    Muffled white light flared. I felt the edge of Leon¡¯s stun hammer and swayed. Callisto¡¯s line of bunched light shot through the air and I took a breath, expecting to be cut before I could get away.

    The blow never landed. I resolved to listen to her battle warnings, even if we were separated. Once again I marveled at her ability to call out dangers based on only a few seconds of watching the enemy.

    Post Note: How she knew what moves were happening was beyond me. They¡¯d never explored this place to my knowledge. Either Leon, Callisto, and Allegra had murdered so many monsters over the last year fighting them was instinctual, or her abilities gave her a hint. I suspected the latter.

    Studying the walls for clues took precious time. I ran to the next wall and stared down its length. No openings were visible, no changes in texture. A smooth arch continued all the way to the ceiling and came back down on the far end. Three of the walls were useless. There had to be an escape or some other key.

    Here, I paused, then waved the red spell to try and get it off my fingertips. It simply faded. Not into a bomb, not into a spell. Nothing. Either I¡¯d let it sit for too long, or the white and red spells weren¡¯t compatible.

    ¡°What?¡± I pooled energy again. It burned lightly. My fingers locked quickly into the final part of the rune gesture. Fire fanned in cone that reached almost six feet away. It changed direction as the hand forming the rune moved. Five seconds later, roughly when an explosive would have armed, it clicked off and the red energy faded. I frowned.

    My explosive spell had changed as well. This time it wasn¡¯t a rune or rage empowering smash, but a flamethrower. One that had to be used quickly or it might fade away. I couldn¡¯t prep the spell ahead of time.

    This made no sense. Minutes ago, it had clearly functioned as a bomb, only now the attack style changed. It would probably do the same amount of damage. My hulking smash and explosive rune were nearly equal, but it was a matter of direction. This had energy to it as well but would burn instead of use concussive force. Also, the flame had been white, like the ghostly after image that followed my arms as they waved.

    The paste colored spell might last forever or fade in ten minutes like my other abilities. It might be a onetime buff. I stopped and pulled out my spell book. Sure enough, the red energy sat waiting for me to use, while the page that had formerly been white had faded entirely. The shimmering reflective surface looked dead. The explosive rune would look the same if I pulled the spell away.

    A mad sort of giggle escaped. I flipped to the next empty page to look at my reflection. My face seemed normal aside from the glow. My hair uneven and shaggy. Mud lined my features. The clothing I wore had been utterly drenched. It made me look like a homeless man who ventured into a television game show and failed to cross the moat of slimes, twice.

    Alternating between exploring my powers and searching for exits helped keep me focused during the two minutes I¡¯d been given. The fighting around me sounded worse by the second. Callisto continued to shout orders. Leon grunted softly in pain, or maybe he was too far away. This chamber had to be almost half the size of a football field in length, and similar in width.

    The hammer stun hit again and this time I fell to the ground. My stomach growled in hunger. I fumbled in my pocket for the book I¡¯d once again put away. Energy from the front-page spell pooled together but I didn¡¯t pull my hand away. Once I did, the clock would start ticking.

    ¡°Third split!¡± Callisto shouted.

    I didn¡¯t know what her warning meant. Leon banged his shield and Allegra said something that was surely important.

    Their words were mostly garbled as I ran for the far end, intent on unleashing fiery hell upon the green goo lined area. This decision came about because I¡¯d noted a door on the far side that surely went somewhere or meant something. It was all related. Either there was an escape or a secret beyond its confines.

    Smaller pops of goo sprayed the middle of the room. Lights shined from the trio¡¯s special attacks. Nothing stopped me. Nothing could see me this way. The smaller oozes that Callisto¡¯s had fought were unaware before, and thankfully oblivious now. I could have been wading through a sea of them and never noticed.

    ¡°Get ready, ghost!¡± Callisto said. Why she cared enough to warn me I couldn¡¯t figure. I only knew there wasn¡¯t enough time left before something changed.

    Near the door was a layer of crusty ooze. It reminded me of the leftovers from those bundled up monsters the others had been popping. I couldn¡¯t figure out why this was visible here but not the monster that surely generated this mess. Fire sprayed from my fingertips in a cone. The green goo turned into gas and peeled back. Something shook the room like an earthquake.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Leon demanded.

    ¡°Enrage?¡± For once, Callisto didn¡¯t sound sure.

    I felt happy that this gave me a small form of revenge. Anything that made Callisto sound uncertain had value. Such small vindictive thoughts kept me company until the flame clicked off after five seconds.

    I jerked the door open and went inside with my blade ready to stab anything that moved. It might have been possible to use my white bodied phasing ability to pass through rather than use the handle, but I couldn¡¯t risk it fading away at the wrong time. Karma would likely kill me by removing intangibility halfway through a wall.

    ¡°Look out!¡± Callisto¡¯s warning was muffled as I stepped into the strangely quiet room. Surely the slender creature had been in here before.

    Inside was a small room with a hose attached to a nozzle, a large thick tube that went from floor to ceiling next to the nozzle, and pieces of paper with drawings pinned on a tack board slowly burned. I glanced around and wondered what the heck this all meant. I inhaled and focused on the two easier tasks.

    The pieces of burning paper were almost gone. Somehow they were related to this time limit. Turning the spigot resulted in a thick stream of green pouring from the hose¡¯s other end. The creature had been coming in here and filling up on small doses of monster. I knew because stacks of empty plastic totes were pushed against a wall.

    ¡°Dead?¡± Leon¡¯s words were muffled and sounded underwater. ¡°I¡¯m showing zero.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t tell. Might be a fourth split,¡± Callisto said in an equally distorted voice. ¡°It was easier with Hawthorn. If nothing else we always knew monsters were dead when he stopped caring.¡± That was about the kindest thing she¡¯d said about me. Too bad I was sort of dead.

    I took a breath and wondered what might change if I destroyed the tube or yanked down the board. There were too many possibilities and being too clever might result in me never making a difference. I couldn¡¯t have more than a few seconds left.

    One of the two remaining pieces of paper finished its self-immolation. My head spun with sudden dizziness. The room shifted. Huge green gelatin bodies faded into view. The small control center I¡¯d been in disappeared. I stared at the ground and found myself standing on a small discolored square that didn¡¯t match the rest of the gray tiles.

    It made no sense. The walls were in the right spots, but I had moved. A sudden impact slammed into my ribs. My body flew backward and skidded along the ground. My chest tightened and lungs gasped for air at the same time. The world kept spinning.

    I fought to ready my spectral blade and white flame cone spell. Those actions stopped when I noticed a sword pointed at my neck. On the other end was an angry, slimy, and nearly naked vision of Callisto. Only her chain mail remained, and the sight made me gulp.

    Post Note: I feel it necessary to pause my recount frequently with these notes. To those reading this one may seem misplaced, but for me it¡¯s a form of record keeping. Maybe it will never matter, for I can¡¯t read my own journal moments after putting pen to paper. Still, here are the combinations so far.

    Black = Five places to ¡°store¡± items and summon magically crafted versions. Storing/removing template items is done by equipping the spell on one hand. Summoning magical versions is done by equipping the spell on the other hand. All summoned versions last for roughly ten minutes (time is hard to measure without an hourglass)

    Red = A rune that can be laid down like a trap, takes five seconds to arm. Highly damaging to user and enemies.

    Brown + Red = Same functionality.

    Green + Red = Power Fist that builds steadily and explodes on impact

    White + Red = Flamethrower that has to be used before five seconds are up

    Brown = Dryad Form. Higher dexterity, reaction, and libido. Low self-control. Retains stealth.

    Green = Ogre Form. Higher strength, defense, and excessively twisted vocabulary. No stealth.

    White = Spectral form???

    White + Brown = ???

    White + Green = ???

    As always, further testing is needed. This says nothing of the possible personality side effects. Color basis noted. Possible other colors include blue, pink, orange, etc. This is only speculation.

 Book 2, Rule 21

    Rule 21

    Some Have Faith & Others Solve Problems

    Statement: Later in this journal I¡¯ll both recount what I was told regarding magic and attempt to recap it in a way that makes more sense against my experiences. At this juncture I shall make two points of note. First, magic simply starts freeform and flexible, then it develops and forms rules. Second, at this phase I was utterly unaware of point one, which meant I was confused quite frequently. So, if anyone reading this journal feels utterly lost by the magic, imagine how I felt living it.

    Lost is too kind a word. Still, survival required acceptance first, reason exploration would always need to wait until my life wasn¡¯t in danger.

    ¡°The other layer is gone,¡± Allegra confirmed. I couldn¡¯t turn my head right to get a good look at her. My two minutes had ended and I¡¯d been slammed back to this weird starting point. That made no sense, but then again, not much did. It had to be related to the piece of paper. That could work if the board was an artifact.

    ¡°You must be our ghost,¡± Callisto said. She drove the blade into skin and I felt the metal sink in but noticed no pain. The sensation made me flinch and worry that I might suddenly become corporal and find a sword lodged in my throat.

    ¡°I must be,¡± I responded. The words stretched and echoed softly. As if my voice came from somewhere farther away than my mouth. I marked the vocal effect as another mystery to explore.

    Hopefully this spell would fade, but only when Callisto was looking in another direction. I could only assume glowing white made it hard to turn invisible.

    She glared at me. I searched around the room. The door I¡¯d ducked into, after burning away a small bit of dried slime, had vanished. The alcove with its tube of goop might still exist if I could use my intangibility to get through the wall.

    ¡°Ghost is stupid. What do we call you?¡± Callisto demanded.

    I almost smirked but managed to fight back the amusement. They were giving me the chance to name myself. According to Midge, that was a good sign. The downside is I hadn¡¯t been able to say my name as something other than the one I¡¯d been born with.

    Post Note: This seems like a weird requirement for this new world, the more I think about it. Is it attachment to a name that enforces the truth? Or letter of the law, such as a birth certificate? How then, does this inability to lie work with being given nick names, such as Coach Madison, Little Shade, Midge and Pix, or Mister Underwood versus Hawthorn? When is it a lie and when is it simply a Go-By?

    ¡°Ghost is fine. It¡¯s easier.¡± That, like everything else I said, was not a lie. Dying would be easier than telling a falsehood. ¡°And once we¡¯re done here, you may never see me again.¡±

    Callisto glanced at Leon. He shook his head.

    ¡°A ghost?¡± Allegra looked at a small piece of paper and took a step back. Grime covered her clothes but they were oddly whole. The number of robes she¡¯d worn had dwindled to one light purple piece of fabric, with no sign of what had happened to the rest.

    Leon turned and glanced at me. He was also a mess. His dull armor had a ring of goop hardened around his helmet¡¯s edges.

    ¡°He¡¯s in the party now,¡± Leon said. ¡°But it¡¯s G-H-S-T. With quotations around it. Clearly a pseudonym.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Callisto asked.

    ¡°He¡¯s in the party. We¡¯ll figure out the rest later.¡± Leon rocked. His lips, which were barely visible in the open faceplate he currently wore, curled with a frown.

    ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. The boss is regenerating,¡± Leon charged ahead with his shield. ¡°Health bar¡¯s back. Though smaller, so we¡¯re making progress.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Callisto asked. ¡°Shit. Fuck. Split four! This has got to be it. Ghost, or whatever, help or we¡¯re all dead,¡± she said, and charged the enemy. I followed her mad dash and rubbed my neck in fear Callisto had poked a hole.

    My skin felt as normal as ever. Warm to the touch, slightly rough from not shaving in forever, and dry. I needed a long hot bath and a razor.

    ¡°Fifty percent! Leon, get those blobs. Allie, anything?¡±

    Sure enough, the boss monster was coming together. I could see the actual enemy now. A thousand small bubbling monster piles were pulling themselves out of the splattered mess. They popped together, creating teardrop-shaped creatures that slimed toward the middle of the room.

    Two glommed together to form a bigger monster. A third joined and it grew. Tons of blobs traveled toward the center. Dozens plopped down from the ceiling. More still along the ground.

    Allegra knelt next to me with a concerned expression. ¡°Lance?¡±

    I made sure the other two were looking away and nodded.

    ¡°Oh mah god.¡± The blonde stepped back and pout a hand over her mouth. ¡°You¡¯re white. I mean like really white. Practically a ghost. What happened? Is this because of¡ª¡± Her words were cut off by Callisto¡¯s sudden shout.

    ¡°Today. I need something, today.¡± She sputtered as goo exploded and caked her face. Moments later Callisto struck the Slime King¡¯s body but nothing happened.

    Light flashed. Leon lifted his hammer half a second later but nothing happened at the top. Both the sights set me back a step. I stood, noticing the odd visual trails after my body. They hung longer than they had before.

    I blinked. It seemed as though there was a time delay in how fast I noticed events happening. Either Callisto figured out how to move faster than the speed of light, distorted the timing of her blow with magic, or I wasn¡¯t in sync with everyone else. None of the possibilities comforted me.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± I asked, hoping Allegra would know.

    Allegra shook her head and glanced at the papers. ¡°Underwood? How are you¡­¡±

    ¡°Focus!¡± Callisto yelled from ahead.

    I stared into the distance and didn¡¯t fully register Allegra¡¯s words. Her smell haunted my nostrils and the sharp soft combination of her and Callisto caused my eyebrows to tighten. No scents had been present during our separate worlds. It was so strange seeing people again, despite the large goo monster.

    ¡°Ghost, do something,¡± Callisto ordered.

    I stared at her ass and lifted an eyebrow. Somehow the chain mail was working for me. There should have been tension from the giant ball of slime but it didn¡¯t have a mouth or anything else. The monster clearly hurt fabric more flesh. My own pants were tattered after being washed multiple times by green splatters. It would also go poorly if the creature engulfed someone.

    That¡¯s exactly what happened to Leon. A dozen bubbles fell off the ceiling onto his armor. The man spun wildly, dropped his heavy shield and tried to grab the indifferent liquid.

    I sighed and stuck a hand in my pocket as if pondering what to do next. Fingers slipped into the first page with ease, energy pooled and tingled. Two breaths later I unleashed fire near Leon.

    He flailed. I adjusted my hand to burn away the outer edge. His wide eyes, and face, were off-colored inside the creature, but anyone should be able to hold their breath for ten or fifteen seconds. I could do it. Assuming air mattered anymore with my weird glowing body and funny voice.

    I suppressed my budding worry and focused on nearly boiling Leon like a lobster. In my head, I counted to five and the long cone stopped. My body felt heavy. My explosive spells drained me too but I¡¯d grown used to them. This was almost the same.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°Leon.¡± Allegra sounded worried. I turned to see her bent over a soggy piece of paper with her fingers lost in the surface. She looked up and her mouth moved.

    I¡¯d already heard the shout. Once again I registered how disjointed I¡¯d become. This after echo version of reality was tough to deal with. Something clanged. I turned. Callisto slammed into a wall without noise.

    ¡°Shit,¡± I said. The word echoed a breath later. ¡°I can¡¯t focus. This isn¡¯t working.¡±

    Leon coughed on the ground. Or he coughed then his body jerked and the armor moved.

    ¡°Blame¡­ lag,¡± he said.

    ¡°Allie, is it a status affect?¡± Callisto ran by with her mouth moving at the wrong time.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Leon and Allegra said at the same time.

    That made perfect sense. It was lag. When that creature had died it¡¯d put me into the room with everyone else, fighting what everyone else saw, but the process of syncing with them had grown worse. Or it¡¯d started bad and I hadn¡¯t noticed because of the sword in my neck. Maybe my body wasn¡¯t even my own.

    The sound of metal on metal screeching spiked. A stray glob that had yet to catch up popped. Callisto turned and shot a beam through the air. I fell to one side and watched as the visual image caught up with the sound. Her beam sailed by, carving a path through listless blobs that had yet to rejoin the main spot.

    Post Note: It may seem like these events are in reverse order, and I wish to assure people this is what happened. Magic is dangerous. New, untested magic, is that much more dangerous. A wiser man would have waited to test out the white spell, or perhaps never absorbed it in the first place. Greed made me foolish.

    ¡°I need a weakness,¡± Callisto said. Her hair clung to the side of her face. She was tired, more than tired. Each of those beams must be draining her stamina.

    Leon was no less ragged. He coughed on the ground and curled into a ball.

    Allegra stared in horror at her piece of paper. I shook my head, once again it was up to me to do something. Only I wasn¡¯t moving like I normally would.

    I glanced around the room and searched for changes. On the other side, I¡¯d seen smooth walls reaching up in an arch. The same thing happened here. On the other side, there had been vents and a small room. Those were gone. I worked to piece together how that side might be able to pour miniature oozes out of a hose. It had to draw from some larger source, such as boss monster or perhaps the biggest reservoir of gelatin ever.

    The large wall of jiggling ooze towering over Callisto was the main difference. She stood defiant with a sword in each hand and screamed at the faceless monster. I squinted to figure out how they¡¯d popped this thing three times already. There were no weak points that I could see. The knife in my hand felt unguided.

    Maybe with enough high proof liquor or bottles of bleach, we could defeat the beast. I had neither. There were foam sprinklers on the ceiling. This place lacked trashcans with hidden rat bosses manipulating the ooze.

    That was a good point to ponder though. How did the material glom together on its own? It had no core or center mass. No part of it had more shading than the other. Even my monster vision, for lack of a better way to label the ability, didn¡¯t highlight the mass. It was like the thing we were fighting wasn¡¯t a creature at all.

    An idea occurred to me. A terribly wicked idea that might be possible. The creature I¡¯d killed could have somehow used the board to create separate layers. It could have simply dropped huge amounts of goo from the tube, one bucket at a time, or run the factory forever. Either way, the answer was in that room. I needed to go back, if I could.

    Callisto was swamped with ooze. She spun inside a living tidal wave made of gross monster. It rolled around the floor, or whatever ooze monsters did to get around. We were basically fighting living emerald rain drops and I hadn¡¯t figured out how to classify it beyond ¡°annoying.¡±

    ¡°Leon?¡± I questioned and cursed to myself. Ghost barely knew them. ¡°You have a way to buy a couple of minutes?¡±

    He had a few major abilities, but if Callisto had learned a new trick, maybe he had as well. I still didn¡¯t know where she learned the sword slashing move. But I glowed and could push my hand through walls. The world changed us every single day.

    Callisto hacked away. Beams came off her blades and tore through the slime and carried on toward the far end of the room. With each blast, chunks of goo-creature splattered apart. Her attacks left fresh scratches in the wall yards away from her.

    I stared open mouthed. She gutted the mass from the inside. With each blast, her body twisted and turned. My head shook off the awkward sight of a naked woman, aside from chainmail, flopping around inside gelatin. As Hawthorn, I might toss Allegra in just to get a good show.

    ¡°Leon, can you cast a sanctuary?¡± Allegra asked.

    Leon¡¯s head dipped in a nod. He used the hammer¡¯s hilt to push himself up. The knight¡¯s knees banged together as he managed to stand. I briefly admired the guy for his resilience. Armor had to help. I wondered if I might be able to get some armor as Mister Underwood. That would be impressive.

    His head bobbed up and down. He seemed to be struggling for breath. Allegra rushed past me and knelt next to the man, until her face peered up into his. Her single remaining, flimsy robe served as a stark contrast to his worn armor. They suited each other. Perhaps it was the blond hair and slight gold shimmer around his body, or the way she seemed to offer him succor in his time of need.

    He held the hammer and offered a prayer. ¡°By the grace of Mayor Kent and the strength of my faith, let no evil come near to while I still draw breath.¡± His body held steady despite his weariness.

    Though his faith was misplaced, there was conviction to his words. For a moment, only a moment, I hated him. I hated everything he represented.

    ¡°God¡¯s not here,¡± I whispered and walked by the lot of them. Callisto and her ragged form, huffing and free of the ooze. She staggered toward Leon. Fuck her, him, and Allegra. I didn¡¯t need them. I¡¯d handle this on my own.

    The doorway might not exist here anymore, but that room on the other side of the wall should still be there. We weren¡¯t getting out of here any other way.

    At the far end the gel was thicker than ever. I burned a hole and behind me the monster wiggled violently. The others said words but they were lost under the roar of fire. As soon as the first spell faded, I reapplied my magic and unleashed another miniature inferno. My head swam from the back-to-back flames.

    Ooze near my foot changed direction, climbing over my bare toes. A larger chunk barely in my peripherals also veered toward me. I glanced over my shoulder. There was an Olympic-sized pool¡¯s worth of the liquid still focused on engulfing Leon. Callisto lay on the ground next to the other two. Around him a huge magical bubble managed to shine weakly out of the mass.

    I glanced down and ground my teeth. Richard would have been a lot like Leon. Able to stand in front of others. Swearing loyalty to my father, Mayor Kent. Callisto probably would have liked him better too. Richard had been fit, reliable, and a proven father. I turned away again and focused on doing something useful, like solving our problems.

    More fire sprayed out to cleanse the wall. I dropped to my knees and fought back fresh nausea. My stomach twisted. Acid crept into the back of my mouth. My arms felt heavy and I wanted to sleep. It would pass.

    I pushed away the overwhelming sensations and managed to get on my feet. Green liquid flowed around my legs, pushing inside my limited garments and pressing against flesh. I stared in confusion. My clothes were being eaten. My few remaining clothes.

    ¡°Fuck off!¡± I screamed and reached into the worn pocket for more fire. Liquid sizzled. Gas formed. More ooze filled in the gap. Trying to drink an ocean would have been more effective.

    I leaned into the wall and considered praying. Before I could make myself a fool like Leon, I pushed through. My hand felt even heavier. The wall swallowed my hand like quick sand. Bubbles rolled along the surface as my vision was distorted by the gas.

    The pressure on my fingertips lessened. I pushed harder until one foot slipped in the mire around my legs. My face slammed into the wall then started to wink in. My eyes closed and I took a deep breath in case.

    Something moved past me. Or I pushed through it. My mind couldn¡¯t tell the difference. I wondered if I¡¯d drown. I wondered if the secret room even existed anymore. The movement of my fingers could be a trick or an illusion. Magic might have tempted me into permanent death.

    Then my lips loosened. The pressure on my face lifted. I opened an eye and saw the room I¡¯d been in before. The stacked empty totes were on one side. That board on the other. A doorknob stuck out a few feet to my right. I¡¯d missed the door but still found the goal.

    Even the floor to ceiling tube looked nearly the same. This time I could see the creature inside. In the muck floated a single eyeball, and maybe a foot above that eye was a crown made of dull metal.

    The others were on borrowed time. Being angry at them didn¡¯t mean I wished them to die, not when they could be useful. No matter how powerful I was on my own, I couldn¡¯t be in two places at once. I went straight for the main container and turned the handle.

    Liquid splashed onto the ground. I let it pile up until the mess was everywhere then I burned it. More green liquid oozed out and the eyeball swiveled around. Without additional facial features, I couldn¡¯t tell what it was thinking, but I liked to believe it was panicking. The idea made me giggle. I renewed my spell and burned again.

    With each wave of fire, the ooze in the floor to ceiling tube drained. The eyeball got smaller and spun faster. Still, ooze poured from the faucet and onto the ground. It had nowhere else to go. Once enough lay on the floor, I added more flame.

    By the third repeat the room had changed colors. I felt sick. Billows of smoke blocked my vision. By the eighth cast the tube was completely obscured and nothing could be seen at all. I coughed and continued the process until the steady dripping of liquid halted.

    There were no other sounds. No thumping monster outside. Callisto¡¯s shouts gone. They might have died despite my efforts. I coughed wetly and stumbled for the door handle.

    Post Note: I wonder why it was closed. I had opened it once to get in this room. At the time, I¡¯d never even considered this fact. The other possibility is something else had closed it for me. One day I¡¯ll learn the secrets behind this place.

    Fresh air poured in and mixed with the cloud that had been trapped. I kneeled on the ground and felt only dry metal flooring. I lowered further still and scanned the room from before. All the ooze I¡¯d been wading through lay utterly inert. That had to be a good sign.

    I crawled back in to see what had happened to the creature in the tube. Not much of the room had become visible. I could make out the ruins of a tack board, hanging from a wall. The glass tube completely empty. My legs wobbled but I managed to push myself up, hands pressed against the glass, and stared into the tube. There, in the basin, was a sad and thin crown but no eyeball.

    Then all my exertion caught up to me and I fell into the pile of plastic tubs.

 Book 2, Rule 22

    Rule 22

    Fade Away Quietly & Take A Bath

    Statement: This portion of my recount is full of what-ifs. Such ideas are dangerous in a world where every moment must be handled on its own merit. We¡ªnone of us¡ªcan afford to lose sight of what¡¯s in front of us. Yet everything we do is a means to an end. Though on the broader scale, this too raises an interesting point, one I¡¯ve touched upon before but lost sight of during the simple act of survival.

    This world is created by design. We¡¯d been brought here deliberately. Yet in the two months since my arrival, I still haven¡¯t figured out why. I ask this over, and over, and over, and feel like each time I ask, I¡¯ve touched a little bit more upon the truth. On the secret behind everything.

    I lay there. The single tube had been like something from a mad scientist¡¯s lair. There might be a glass eyeball rolling around on the ground for all I knew. That would make as much sense as anything. Someone¡¯s false eye came to life in a vat of gelatin and turned into a monster. I weakly chuckled at the absurdity.

    There were no orbs. No yellow, whites or greens. Only silence. The door that had been hidden should be visible to the others. Maybe when the eyeball creature had died it ceased being relevant. Any guess would be unverifiable speculation.

    ¡°Ghost?¡± Callisto shouted.

    Her voice brought me back to the present. It seemed to come from the wall next to me, which fit with our relative positions. She cried out again. I couldn¡¯t figure out why she cared. She pretended to care for Hawthorn, until she didn¡¯t. She pretended to care for Mister Underwood, until she didn¡¯t. Ghost would be the same. I, Lance, the real me, had been the same.

    Here we were, in a strange fantasy world gone wrong, and we were repeating the same song over and over.

    It didn¡¯t matter anymore. They had each other. They¡¯d always had each other. I only had myself, and could only rely upon myself. This twisted maze had simply reaffirmed that a dozen times over. I lifted a hand and wiped away wet bits of slime monster.

    ¡°I¡¯ll live through this.¡± The mantra tumbled from my lips. It felt pathetic on its own so I added more. ¡°I¡¯ll grow stronger. I¡¯m not like them. They¡¯re still¡­¡±

    The sentence was never finished. In my mind I saw the image of those three, huddled together in a protective circle. Them against the looming monster, and me in the darkness. I told myself that it was better that way. They were useless in defeating the true monster.

    Three times I¡¯d worked with them. Three times I¡¯d tried to fit in. And all three times, I¡¯d felt like an outsider. Even in our brief time together. The lag, the disconnect between what I heard and saw had been another hint we weren¡¯t on the same page. In a world of fantasy, that had to be a magic number.

    So, I¡¯d never try again.

    It was time to find an exit. They could keep the prizes. The crown from a dead man and the board were all that remained. The totes would be useless. I¡¯d learned all I needed to and would go about my own way. I could take the bus to get pants that might fit my various forms, experiment a bit with the powers, take a bus ride home, then commence losing myself in murdering ogres.

    Post Note: Some may say this was a form of running away. I call it a realization¡ªthat going with them had never been my answer. I¡¯d done everything in here, by destroying the monster¡¯s paths, killing it, destroying the ooze king¡¯s body or whatever it had been, and all that could have been done without them. So, I could likely defeat the Ogre King without relying on this mystery weapon.

    My hand lifted. The white aura from before had vanished, and as it dwindled I had faded into the background. Their eyes would slip right past me without ever taking note. That meant I was me again. Lance the unwanted. Lance the sucker. Lance the pathetic man with a broken hip who would never walk again. I shook my head in denial.

    I think, most of all, in that moment, I missed my mom. Her death had been the start of everything going wrong. The car crash had simply been a shortcut to rock bottom, but that had already been my destination.

    My legs worked. I staggered out the door and slunk along the wall.

    ¡°Ghost!¡± Allegra shouted.

    She may be able to see me on her map, but if I didn¡¯t respond, then she¡¯d get the hint. Right now, I wanted only to be left alone.

    My pants were still extra loose. The material holding them together must have partially dissolved in that slime, like Callisto¡¯s hole-filled clothes. It served as a sign of my own mental state when I refused to even give the trio a once over.

    Now that we¡¯d defeated the monsters and the papers tacked to the wall had faded, whatever magic kept us trapped must have vanished as well. There, clear as day, sat a short tunnel. Outside was rubble from the rock I¡¯d smashed. It was stupid to think we were so close to the exit for that long. This hellish nightmare had been nested inside a park in the middle of nowhere.

    It made no god damned sense. That monster had built this place. Or it had found tools and tried to create its own personal dungeon. Someone else must have put the rock in the way. There were so many factors playing into this and I understood exactly zero of them. That bothered me.

    Such considerations kept me busy as I wove around the side of the room to an exit. Their cries for ghost eventually faded. Their normal voices were like faint whispers from the other side of the room.

    By the time I got outside, I guessed at two things. First, whatever layer, for lack of a better term, I¡¯d been pulled into, probably had to do with my status as a sneak. It also seemed limited, which might have to do with the creature I¡¯d killed. It must have been a sneak as well, simply blind due to its species of powers. Nothing else made sense. Its death had eventually resulted in the place falling apart and the two layers being put back together.

    Second, I assumed it had been trying to form an impossible dungeon, where it could move around freely and keep others away. Either as a trap to gain more power, or a way to ensure no one ever bothered it. I couldn¡¯t even figure out what sort of place this hangar, or bunker, or storage area, had been before the world went mad.

    I felt weak. I felt naked. Being Lance served no purpose so after trudging through the woods to the main path, I switched to Mister Underwood.

    My shirt shredded with the sudden increase in size. I sighed, peeled it off, and wiped away some of the dried-up gunk. Water would help get the rest, and I could scrub tender spots that had been practically assaulted by a single monster. It still amazed me how that creature had been creating a private dungeon with the remains of a monster. Too bad his initial test group, us, thoroughly trashed the place.

    I sniffed the air and struggled to remember Allegra¡¯s map. A few streams should be running through the park, long meandering lines that joined up the farther north they went. My heightened sense of smell gave me a clearer direction and I soon found a creek.

    There, I drenched the shirt and attempted to clean myself completely. It was futile of course, but soon my pants were wet and nearly one color again. The rest of my body felt relieved of all but the most stubborn of crust. Once done, I sat there, letting my thick unfeeling toes wiggle in the stream.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Night had crept up on me. A bright fat moon hung overhead. There was mild discomfort from being out in the chilly air. I kept an eye out for spiders but would have welcomed something to squish. Not fighting was acceptable as well.

    My body fell backward to lay on the ground. I felt drained beyond belief, tired, and hungry. Those were all sensations that would pass. Part of me wanted to simply not think, about Callisto¡¯s admittance of using Hawthorn, about how we¡¯d been trapped, about that damnable scene where Allegra, Callisto, and Leon looked like a heroic picture come to life.

    I didn¡¯t mind being an unsung hero. It was more that other people so close to me were the focal point. If Allegra sketched the party there would be an aura of majesty coming off the paper, and me quietly in a corner brooding heavily.

    That wasn¡¯t right either. I didn¡¯t want to brood. It was me. I simply didn¡¯t fit. Killing came too easily to me. In everyone¡¯s eyes I was a means to an end. Coach Madison had seen it. Little Shade probably used me as well. Thinking of her made me remember two things. One, that I¡¯d seen her nearly naked, and enjoyed the sight. Second, that we¡¯d killed the hydra. The fact that my next thought was wondering who would win, me as Mister Underwood, or the hydra, proved my earlier statement correct.

    I didn¡¯t fit.

    A sane person would have chosen to stick with other humans. A sane person wouldn¡¯t put so much thought into defeating monsters and only look at women with the intent to bed them. Those impulses couldn¡¯t all belong to this dryad magic. If I had any self-control it would be possible to shrug off the inclinations.

    Post Note: In truth, hours passed while I circled the same series of thoughts. I could say that everyone I¡¯d met simply wanted to use me, for me. Even Midge expected favors. In many respects, I was no better. The only time I helped others without ulterior motives was when their interests coincided with my own. Realizing a fact, and taking the idea to heart, do not go hand in hand.

    I summoned a blade and held it up to the sky. The knife was so tiny in my giant hand. The stars on my hilt were tightly packed and shimmered when held by a tree. When brought to the sky the blade faded from sight, as if it had returned to where it belonged.

    What was I in the face of that completeness? I was a broken young man. With a broken artifact. Absorbing pieces of magic from shattered beings. I was a smiling killer, made by a man playing a game.

    That thought shook me. I sat up and brought out the spell book. The mirrors reflected my mean mug and protruded jaw. I flipped past them to the back cover.

    There were still two cards there, and I recalled where I¡¯d seen one of the names. Hephaestus. Midge had said it. That this book had been made by him. That he was playing a dangerous game. I thought back to the stocky man with his thick beard. An ¡°Underkin¡± he¡¯d called himself. Gruff, direct, and with little patience. The stewardesses were Wildchilds.

    I had his card. That meant something as well. It should somehow assist a buyer, myself, in finding the seller. There was no other reason to hand out a business card. Either he wanted more business or had something that needed to be said but couldn¡¯t because of the time limit. It could also serve as a test to see who could survive and return.

    There was also the other card with a name I didn¡¯t recognize. That made me think back to the demon on the faerie tale version of a city bus. He¡¯d given me the card and said a clothes maker¡¯s stop was on the bus route. From that bit of information, I inferred it might be possible to visit Hephaestus to get some answers. His store might be on the route as well.

    It had to be possible. If I could find him, then I assumed I could find answers. Something that made more sense than Midge¡¯s stream of nonsensical babble. Hephaestus would be direct. He¡¯d have a better understanding of how to handle the spells. And if I could figure out that, and get pants, then I¡¯d be far more capable of handling the Ogre King.

    My blood chilled. Once again, I¡¯d lost sight of the real goal. It wasn¡¯t simply killing the nasty boss downtown. It was about making sure Stella would be safe. I cursed myself for nearly dying. Death helped no one survive.

    Goals helped me. It had been the same after my accident. Drugs kept me from freaking out. Doctors babbled for hours. I focused on the next step. Show up for physical therapy. Pay for food. Keep Dad¡¯s house clean. My life revolved around completing those tasks to reach the day when I¡¯d be able to walk without a crutch or wheelchair.

    I¡¯d reached that day a month and change ago, but never stopped to appreciate it. I¡¯d only resolved to be able to take care of myself and survive. After all, the only person I¡¯d been remotely close to was Richard, and he¡¯d given up. He¡¯d given up and left Stella behind.

    ¡°Very well. Decisions have been made. Execution of said plans is naturally next.¡± What I meant to say was different. My enlarged chest heaved in a heavier than expected sigh. There was also the matter of trying to understand my spells. Hephaestus could be dead for all I knew, or unreachable, or sitting in a bar watching my struggles on a magical television.

    None of it would surprise me at this stage.

    I detested scattered bits of information needing to be woven together to make a clear picture. At the same point, my entire life since the event basically existed as a blank puzzle being slowly filled in. Truthfully, learning to play the game was more important than learning why the game was being played, at least at first.

    Technically, why was an easy question. Games were played with the goal of winning or passing time. In this changed world it could be possible that games were played to win something, lose something, get revenge for something, and the list went on. I half expected that this Secret King I¡¯d heard of once or twice was involved. Hephaestus was already an established player, though he sounded like an unwelcoming person who had butted in, and then there were the stewardesses with their minor differences and sharp teeth.

    They¡¯d addressed me by all three names, almost like they were separate individuals. Now I understood a bit better. In a way they were, but they were still me. They were to be treated as disguises that came with strong characteristics, ones that were clear enough I barely needed to keep it straight in my head. An actor would have a harder time. Lewd thoughts, different ways of speaking, those were natural and stayed distinct.

    My spells were not. Especially the black one. All that time, neither Callisto or Leon had seemed to notice or care. Blades were plentiful since most of the population had died. A single kitchen knife set might have dozens of sharp objects to borrow. The netting could be common in their minds.

    Or maybe they knew and pretended not to. They could simply be playing along with my crazy need to pose as alternate people. I suspected that was impossible given how their speech and choice of topics had changed while I was Mister Underwood and ¡°G-H-S-T.¡±

    Being alone caused too much introspection. It was time to leave. My barrel would be waiting for me, hopefully. If nothing else, I expected the golden thread to be worth as much or more than the entire trashcan filled with spider web. Both were my prizes for this trip to the wilderness.

    If there was anything in this world resembling justice, then it came in the form of me being able to use the bus while the others had to walk. And I¡¯d gotten to know what the others truly thought of me.

    I stood and readied to leave. The sudden motion made something else in the moonlight shift and lift its head. In the darkness sat two hard to see eyes that seemed to be gold. We blinked at each other. Other features slowly came into view, pointed ears, a long snout, wet muzzle, and lanky body.

    It was a svelte canine. I tilted my head.

    It froze and a lip pulled back. I could barely make them out in the darkness, which annoyed me. Being Mister Underwood seemed to cancel many of my default abilities from the other two forms.

    A howl filled the air. Snarls from behind me joined the rising noise. More golden eyes became apparent. Additional dogs or wolves padded toward the river front. Soon an army stood there, and I let it happen, perfectly content for whatever came next.

    Post Note: As a former city dweller, I couldn¡¯t tell the difference between wolves and dog breeds. There may not be much difference. The important parts are still the same. Teeth. Claws. Travel in groups if they don¡¯t hate each other.

    ¡°Fantastic.¡± I¡¯d been sitting here worrying about having too much time alone with my thoughts, and the universe handed me something to kill. Despite my bout of self-deprecation, things were looking up. I could get back to my roots of killing monsters threatening me.

    Out of the darkness a more human snarl echoed, followed by, ¡°Who dares invade our forest?¡±

    The sudden appearance of someone speaking English was enough to make me pause. Then I shook off the worry. The cashier had spoken to us and recited garbage lines. The white-skinned creature in the dungeon had done much the same. As before, being able to speak didn¡¯t indicate intelligence or value.

    ¡°A simple traveler searching for glory and riches!¡± I shouted. What I¡¯d meant to say was ¡°I came here for pants and a weapon to fight an un-killable Ogre King.¡± Lying was hard to do and apparently being Mister Underwood made me more talkative. This annoyed me, and when stacked with the dozens of golden eyes staring in my direction, I urgently wanted to stab someone.

    Never mind that my starlit knife was essentially a toothpick with this form.

    ¡°I smell the blood of a white one on you,¡± the stranger said. His words vibrated with an intensity that mixed disgust and slobber. ¡°Did you chase the cockroach to its lair?¡±

    ¡°Naturally.¡±

    ¡°And killed it?¡±

    ¡°Accidents are inevitably bound to happen.¡± That hadn¡¯t been what I intended to say. I fought back the urge to pull out my red spell and simply lay waste to the masses.

    A creature lumbered toward the stream I¡¯d been dipping my toes in. The monster was taller than a man but shorter than my Underwood form, peaking at maybe seven feet and change. Dim light and this form¡¯s poor vision, compared to Hawthorn anyway, made the other features difficult to pick out, but I was sure of one thing.

    The wolves Allegra had mentioned were run by a full-on werewolf. That made as much as sense as the rest of this stupid state park. I vowed, once Stella was safe, to return and burn this entire place to the ground. Trees, spiders, ooze monsters, wolves, and all.

 Book 2, Rule 23

    Rule 23

    Wolves Are Crafty & Expect Backstabs

    Statement: Each of us, in this new world, seems to have a trigger. Mine was, is, slavers¡ªnot specifically the act of slavery. Callisto¡¯s is her people, and apparently spiders. The thin white creature¡¯s was noise. These are our weaknesses of character rather than of body¡ªand this is interesting to me. Not specifically because it can be exploited¡ªbut because for all of us, these drives seem as powerful as the need to survive.

    I can say for certain that I had never been so, violently opposed to slavery prior to this world. Is it the magic, the artifacts, or that I had never been given an opportunity prove to my ideals with a blade? What then, does that say of the world before this one¡ªperhaps that anyone can become brutal given the right motivation?

    ¡°Now you will give me what you have stolen from me,¡± the werewolf said.

    I stared blankly and could only coherently piece together two thoughts. The first was that a werewolf would probably drop interesting loot. The second thought was confusion on how such an ugly mouth could form English words.

    ¡°Give me back what is mine!¡±

    Maybe having an upright neck and longer body let him speak. ¡°Are you deliberately vague or prone to spouting baseless demands in hopes of¡ª¡±

    He waved a claw through the air. Yellow-eyed wolves yipped and dove across the stream toward me. Their claws gained a thick aura that resembled moonlight. My lips tightened in a frown as I curled both arms like a cage around my head.

    Post Note: It¡¯s a good time to admit that I¡¯d fought enough behemoth-style monsters. They, we, all defended the same way, relying more on forearms and back muscles that are like iron, and attacked in the same manner, with brute force.

    They were fast. Paws lashed out before the wolves even reached my location. Solid light spiraled off their claws and brightened the riverbed¡¯s surroundings. I closed my eyes and tilted away as both shining attacks slammed into my arms.

    Blinding light shone through my closed eyelids. My head swam. A wolf, I assumed, latched onto my ankle while the other struggled to get its teeth around my oversized forearm. I lifted the attacked foot and pivoted. The wolf on my arm lost its grip and flew across the river. The second held on.

    I opened my eyes and felt dizzy, and the sharp pain near my foot. The second wolf had managed to dig in further. I bent at the knee and rammed my elbow straight through the creature¡¯s skull.

    It caved. I couldn¡¯t feel the expected warmth of brain matter and my own pain seemed distant. My body swayed slightly and I kicked off the dead wolf. My vision blurred from the earlier bursts of light, but I could smell blood filling the air. Mixed in was hint of wet fur and pine that tingled my nose.

    One of the wolves howled. I smiled but couldn¡¯t see the enemy army of pathetic pelts.

    ¡°I find violence a perfectly suitable form of diplomacy,¡± I said. That wasn¡¯t what I had meant to say. ¡°Perhaps you should provide your minions with increased¡ª¡±

    The playful banter was cut off as creatures I couldn¡¯t perfectly see bounded at me. I stepped toward them with my hands outstretched, cringed as I put too much weight on a leg and swiped at the wolves. One hand caught a wolf around its ribcage and reflexively squeezed. Bones popped. A sadistic chuckle came from deep in my belly even a foot slipped in the mud and my body went sideways.

    My fist banged on the ground. ¡°Fine! We¡¯ll be uncivilized about this.¡± I swung wildly with the other arm sending a pouncing wolf flying. Over I rolled, crushing anything under my form before getting back on my feet.

    The werewolf¡¯s eyes were still in the same spot, meaning the worst had yet to come.

    There were a few options but only one interested me. That was the wholesale murder of all these stupid wolves and their equally slobber-mouthed leader. Creatures ignorant enough to attack me were simply asking to be removed from existence.

    I heard more than a few wolves circling the area. They were likely on all sides, seeking a weakness to exploit. The air smelled heavy with something like pepper. Blood, most likely. It annoyed me. The werewolf leader could be crushed in a bear hug, if he¡¯d get close enough.

    His minion wolves spun around me with their greater agility and at exposed flesh. My lumbering form turned to get at the newest attackers. They darted away.

    ¡°Kindly desist moving and be rendered horizontally compact!¡± I demanded while lunging for one of the flighty wolves. Two more pulled at my heels, saving their companion from being squished.

    Post Note: Apparently, wolves dislike being turned into meat pancakes. Most creatures do. I suspect one day I¡¯ll find a creature that does like it and will be utterly perplexed on how to proceed.

    It hit me what was happening. They were learning how I attacked and adapting. These wolves, or their leader, were smart enough to change their methods. Apparently, they could function as a cohesive unit. Now I knew why Allegra and the others had avoided this group.

    ¡°You will become our feed and I will reclaim my artifacts from your corpse!¡± the werewolf leader shouted. He sounded close but I couldn¡¯t pick him out from the other dark shadows. My vision was getting worse the more they tore at me. Teeth nipped every inch of exposed flesh, and given that I only wore pants, there was a lot of skin to choose from.

    After a dozen useless lunges, I grabbed a fourth wolf, threw it on the ground, and brought my foot down. My heel twisted as if grinding out a cigarette butt. I couldn¡¯t tell how many remained. There had been dozens before. They were slowly whittling down my defenses. Even with this tough hide I¡¯d likely bleed to death after a few more minutes of being attacked.

    My tricks were few. Peeling away the spell might give me more options but I¡¯d still only had this form for a few days at most. Time was hard to keep track of without clocks or watches. If I could learn to swap them out in an instant it might be worthwhile. There had to be quicker ways to switch between my three forms.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    Such irritations kept me busy while the wolves continued their hit and run tactics. I took steps toward the river, in hopes that getting them wet might make them uncomfortable or slow their movements. Dogs might wade into shallow water if they were the right breed, but these creatures might choose to jump over, limiting their avenues of escape. I didn¡¯t know and running away wouldn¡¯t work in this form.

    Post Note: Also, worth reiterating; my current body was easily a size larger than normal ogres, but still smaller than the Ogre King. For the purposes of this fight, using prior world analogies, we are like a bear versus a lion. With a lot of other lions. And claws that shoot beams of energy with their swipes.

    Moonlight beams slammed into my back. I tumbled forward and scooped up a handful of riverbed rocks. Water seeped through my fingers leaving behind muck and handful of decent throwing stones. I hurled them into a mass of moving darkness. That blob of fast moving fur yipped and I scooped up more dirt.

    Pain aside, the fight interested me. I got to test this hulking body against creatures that were as fast, or perhaps faster, than Hawthorn¡¯s form. Their tactics were worth using. Hit and run, bleed out larger creatures. I could go for the Ogre King¡¯s Achilles and see if his had one real vulnerability. I simply had to survive.

    Stones went everywhere. The tiny stream turned into a pool around my feet. More moonlight gobs hit me, making my ears ring and flesh itch madly. Worst of all, these ragged pants were falling off. Slightly less annoying, I couldn¡¯t tell how many enemies were still floating around. I firmly told myself that if I lived, I¡¯d never use Mister Underwood at night again. Unless I needed to, of course.

    I reached into a pocket and grabbed the spell book awkwardly between two fingers. My third dug around inside the front cover for the red energy. The finger warmed. Strangely, that sensation stood out clearly from the other small tears all over my body.

    ¡°That is mine!¡± their werewolf leader shouted. What he meant or what he spoke escaped me.

    The act of preparing an area of effect counter attack cost me. A dozen wolves rushed me at once. Snarls overrode any other sound. I rolled to keep them off while the heat in my hand built. Teeth latched onto my ear and I screamed like a little, giant, angry girl.

    ¡°Bad doggies!¡± I shouted.

    Post Note: This is perhaps the most ineloquent thing to come out of my mouth as Mister Underwood.

    I pushed them away with my free arm. Yips filled the air. I leapt up and came down with my fist, straight into the ground, intent upon catching them all in the blast. It connected with the ground. Earth rippled and shattered around me. Water splashed everywhere, including straight into my eyes.

    The delightful sound of monsters being turned into experience orbs failed to fill the air. My heart sank and my weather indifferent body ran cold with a sudden chill.

    I¡¯d failed, for the first time, to smash monsters using my special move. The sensation left me dazed and my fist ached. My wounds weren¡¯t closing. The wolves had done something to me, more than simple bites or attacks might warrant. They must have poisoned me. Leon might have called it a bleed. If Allegra had been here then she might have been able to cure the effect.

    I almost wished for her assistance. That faint scent of baby powder came to mind. I couldn¡¯t tell if the smell was real or if I imagined it. Ringing filled one ear as though a bomb had gone off and deafened me.

    The wolves surely hadn¡¯t pulled back already. No monster I¡¯d fought ever ran away. None survived long enough to do so. They all died. They all fought until the bitter end. That meant they were out there, waiting for me to grow weaker as their bleeds or poisons made me unable to defend.

    I readied my spell again. This time I¡¯d wait until I knew where they were for sure. They may have been quick, but by letting the spell charge longer, it¡¯d be more destructive. Making it impossible for them to escape.

    The only problem was, I couldn¡¯t figure out where they had gone. My ears barely functioned. My body wasn¡¯t healing fast enough to make them work. While I calmly dissected the situation, part of me also froze in brief panic. It was only a few days ago that I¡¯d lost both my legs and an arm in the explosion. Death hovered too close.

    ¡°You¡¯ll give me what is mine or die!¡± The werewolf¡¯s voice came from somewhere farther away. How far, I couldn¡¯t tell without fully functional hearing. It sounded far but should have been within leaping distance.

    Something glinted in my mostly obscured vision. I assumed it to be one of those damn condensed moonlight attacks and sprang toward the new target.

    ¡°You can¡¯t escape me now!¡± I shouted in joy.

    My legs surged with all the strength I could muster. They bent, pressed, and sent the rest of me flying fist first toward the brightening spot. My fist banged into something heavy and solid. Force rippled out, more than I¡¯d expected. My cheeks flapped. The explosion popped my eardrums.

    I stood, huffing, waiting for any tangible sign that a monster had suffered under my heavy attack.

    There were more scents that the pepper of blood. I sniffed again, trying to get these distorted senses to work correctly. After a few breaths I could pick out more than dead wolves. The faint hint of polished metal and baby powder hung in the air.

    My vision slowly cleared. Leon and Allegra stood in the distance, maybe thirty feet away. The area around them had been hit by the blast. Dirt showed signs of being torn away, stocks of grass and shrubs were bent in the wrong direction. He had his shield locked into place toward me.

    They just stood there, glaring at me. Allegra with a frown and Leon with his eyes tightened to narrow slits. I could almost hear him preparing to shout, ¡°Be purified, in the name of Mayor Kent¡± at me.

    There were no wolves. None, aside from those I¡¯d rendered deceased earlier in the fight. I slowly realized I¡¯d struck Leon, mistaking his shield for the wolves¡¯ moonlight ability. I¡¯d been played like a fiddle by the werewolf. He¡¯d howled from their direction and lured me into swinging my power ability the wrong way.

    He lifted his hammer. I stared blankly. My mouth went slack with confusion and I froze as his daze spell hit me. Too late, I remembered that Callisto¡¯s real name was Sarah.

    ¡°Sarah, no!¡± Allegra¡¯s watery sounding words broke from behind Leon.

    I slowly turned into an attack. Callisto¡¯s matted hair and nearly naked body were wild with rage. She slid the sword toward my gut. I slowly put out a hand. Her blade brushed past the meager defense and slid into the wound that already had torn my stomach to pieces.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t¡­¡± I tried to say that attacking them had been a mistake. My true target had been the werewolf. Honestly, I hadn¡¯t even known they were anywhere near me. The piles of wolves had robbed me of my senses.

    ¡°I know,¡± she said. Or maybe she didn¡¯t. Her words were too soft for me to hear.

    My face tightened. Callisto¡¯s blade jerked to the side. So many things were confusing me and it felt as though my mind was slipping away. There¡¯d been too many fights back to back. I¡¯d bled myself dry in the last week then gotten back up.

    The strangest thing wasn¡¯t her stabbing me. I accepted it from Little Shade and part of me had always known Callisto would stab me in the back again, given a chance. What truly struck me as odd, was the desire to take her with me. To make sure that if I was destined to suffer, that she would join me. To burn in whatever fantastic hell awaited sinners like me, together.

    She tucked in close to my chest and whispered words that might have been, ¡°It has to be this way.¡±

    I leaned forward to bite her head off. Callisto dodged away from my attempt at mutual destruction, a trail of blue and black after images pacing behind her, there I stared.

    Pain numbed but my body didn¡¯t move right. In a detached way, I could only think of how Allegra¡¯s drawings might reflect this scene.

    A beautiful warrior clad in only chain mail, with a sword made of darkness in one hand would be the highlight. Her foe, a misguided and misshapen monster who only vaguely looked human. He, the monster. The smiling killer.

    I grinned dumbly and slumped over on the cold ground. My fingers jerked as I tried to make a fist, while a leg worked to get back up. Then my body simply gave up. It stopped.

    For some strange reason, now, I could feel the earth more than ever before. It was cold. It was warm. I couldn¡¯t begin to explain how it could be both. The absence of sound made a difference. Maybe there was no longer enough blood to make my ears function.

    As the world went black, I reminded myself that trust, was for fools.

 Book 2, Rule 24

    Rule 24

    Get on the bus, again & Take Demons At Their Word

    Statement: When this journey started, it was me and crutches. In a way, it still is. Given that the store owner put my remaining crutch in the book that always travels with me. I¡¯ve lost clothes, resources, weapons, and pieces of my body¡ªbut I constantly find myself in the dark pouring rain with that crutch¡ªthe book. I wonder what that says about me? What would happen if I simply let go? Could I? Such an idea is ill advised because I still need the book to survive¡ªas I needed the crutches before. But what if?

    I woke up groggy and with a hand pressed to my side. Blood had dried. Small critters that were scavenging for scraps scurried into the darkness as I sat up. I caught sight of gray fur on a stiffened tail before it vanished into the tree line.

    My skin felt wet and rough, as if sandpaper had been rubbed against it. The wounds from my fight were partially clotted. I pulled off the remains of my tattered pants and heaved with a painful sigh.

    Post Note: Looking back, I wonder if the wolves I¡¯d killed had puppies. It would be just like this strange world to provide monsters babies, then make them suffer in the wake of me chasing catharsis and orbs. Survival between species cares little for progeny. Greed cares even less.

    Though in truth, this parting was no worse than my separation from Little Shade. Callisto might have expected me to survive. She might have stabbed me because I¡¯d clearly gone mad in her world. I could objectively look at the aftermath of this clearing and see what had happened.

    Dead wolves were everywhere. The sight puzzled me. Monsters should have turned into orbs. They hadn¡¯t, and for a moment I seriously wondered if I¡¯d lost my sanity. Fear gripped me and my mind spun an impossible tale. I¡¯d been drugged, heavily sedated, and run away from home. Perhaps all the monsters I had struggled against were simply part of a fever dream.

    Then I found the book I¡¯d had crafted, sitting next to me. Harmless, peaceful, almost serene as the midday sun baked its cover. Clearly this wasn¡¯t a dream and I¡¯d casually murdered a pack of wolves that weren¡¯t monsters spawned from some mythical plane. The endless mini-orcs and other monsters came from somewhere else to here. The wolves might have been natives.

    I stood, dusted off my thin pale legs and frowned. Not only was I in a field of dead monsters that refused to turn into orbs, I¡¯d reverted to normal me. Scars were all over my skin, and my muscles screamed in displeasure if I poked too hard. The spot where I normally placed Hawthorn or Mister Underwood¡¯s mark was a pile of scabs.

    Walking hurt even more, but my choices were few. Stay and risk the wolves returning during daylight, or leave the park before nightfall and find a safer place. Out and away from senseless danger I walked, headed toward what rewards might remain for my efforts.

    The exit was easy enough to find. I managed to stay stealthed, or sneaky, all the way to the web-covered arches that signaled the exit. From this end, I could see the broken tollbooth that had been off the entrance, what remained of a parking lot for guests, and another ruined house that might have served as a visitors center.

    I didn¡¯t care about exploring the ruins. Right now, they probably had little value to offer me.

    Outside the gate was a slightly different story. My barrel full of webs had a lid atop it, and on that sat a bundle of clothing. They¡¯d left me a fresh pair of pants and a shirt that was too large. I wondered if that was Callisto¡¯s way of apologizing for stabbing me. If so, fuck her. She probably considered it a fair trade and had even left my barrel of spider webs instead of throwing a match in it and letting the whole thing go up in smoke. There¡¯s nothing like an apocalypse to bring out the crazy in people.

    I stood at the bus stop for what felt like hours, waiting for the fat troll and her wooden mockery of a real bus to come pick me up. Nothing happened.

    My fingers drifted to the spell book. I hadn¡¯t tied it to my leg or put it in an oversized pocket. It¡¯d been sitting comfortably under an arm. My precious source of power was always close by, and most days I didn¡¯t think about it. Even now, I barely put thought into flipping through the pages and digging up my green spell. But it felt like a stranger¡¯s hand went onto the page to pool green energy. That other man curled his hand into the right position then brushed the marking onto a less damaged portion of my skin.

    And it felt like that unknown man, took only a few breaths to transform into the muscle-bound version of myself, Mister Underwood. I continued staring at my now empty hand and the dimmed page that had once housed green.

    I knew this was the end of my little adventure outside of town. There was no telling what I¡¯d return home to. Regardless of knowing my next few short-term goals, I felt at a loss. For once, I wondered if all my efforts amounted to anything of use. I could go mile beyond mile and still lose Stella. Allegra and Callisto could die on the way home. The base could have been overrun already, and despite all these possibilities I¡¯d been holding myself together by focusing on two simple desires. Do what I needed to¡ªto survive. Do anything else needed to keep Stella alive.

    ¡°Get in!¡± a shrewish voice screamed.

    The smell of her flame registered before the demand. I shakily lifted my gaze and took note of the bus that had magically appeared. I hadn¡¯t heard it but there it sat. Lantern like lights in front, wooden paneling along the sides, and crude glass windows.

    ¡°Where to?¡±

    Her words made my brain stop all conscious thought and reboot.

    ¡°Come on, we¡¯re burning daylight.¡± She spit on the floor and tapped her cigar over my toes. I hardly noticed the ash descending and felt nothing but distant annoyance. The door started to close and I stuck out a hand to prevent her from driving off.

    She cranked it open, I stepped on with my cargo in tow.

    ¡°Well?¡±

    I opened my book, flipped to the back, and tapped on the card that said Atropos.

    She squinted and leaned over. A horrible sour stench, which had somehow been bottled by her flabby arms, wafted out of her pits. ¡°What the fuck is this?¡±

    ¡°A tailor,¡± I said. My words were still detached, along with the rest of me.

    ¡°Market. Got it.¡± She nodded then the door clicked behind me. ¡°Fifty! And Fifty for the barrel.¡± Her cigar wielding hand tapped against the black box. I slid my card through a thin strip, the box purred and flashed me a white toothy grin. It was exactly like before. I wondered how she¡¯d managed to chain a small version of the vending machine to her bus.

    We jerked into high speed. My body swayed and sat on the first available seat, I drew the barrel close. My card had money on it. It had titles, but I couldn¡¯t focus on any of that now. Thoughts wandered.

    The bus ride gave me a few minutes to think. Not very many. Just enough to know I couldn¡¯t say how I¡¯d act when reuniting with the others as Hawthorn. Our time together in the forest had changed me. I¡¯d no longer look at them quite the same way, and they would never know why. To them, I was simply Hawthorn. Son of Mayor Kent. A murdering machine who was too ruthless. In a way, he was perfect. He had no need to socialize and I felt at home in an attic pondering the nature of reality.

    I envied Mister Underwood¡¯s form. He was so tough that wandering alone in a spider infested forest was a walk in the park. Tough enough that I¡¯d forced the wolves to rely on trickery. Strong too, and being in this form apparently let me travel aboard the useful buses.

    Both forms were still better than being simple old Lance. My weakest self, though he¡¯d become a ghost and that ability hadn¡¯t turned off since I¡¯d picked it up. It was as though magic had geared toward turning me into a monster no matter what happened. Hawthorn, the male dryad. Mister Underwood, the civilized ogre. Lance, the half-a-ghost. Each one broken from what their stereotype should have been.

    My spell book had been melded together from three different partial objects. Parts that were made whole. They shared some traits. The black spell still worked the same. The red spell had adjusted to match the form. I suspected red was always meant to be a person¡¯s first magic in this new world.

    The further I pondered this whole situation, the less and more it made sense. Red could have given Leon his power absorbing aura, but it became gold. It could have been his hammer stun ability. It could have been Callisto¡¯s double tap with weapons or her speed. Everything else simply fit a personality style.Stolen story; please report.

    They were more, complete, than I was. I had no better way to describe it. They¡¯d reached a solid form. Like curtains and carpet matching the couch. They were a pair of pants that complemented the T-shirt. Whereas my spells and abilities were a mismatched bundle.

    I sighed heavily.

    ¡°Ah. Done with work for the week, are you?¡±

    The sudden invasion of my mental headspace made me jump. I turned and found the demon, once again, sitting behind me. It was as though he¡¯d never gotten off the bus. Days had passed and we were in the same position all over again.

    The creature¡¯s form bothered me less the second time. His goatish face and abyssal eyes were almost normal. And how could I judge him, being a brutish monster myself.

    So, in response to his question, I nodded.

    The demon huffed a cloud of steam that smelled like sulfur.

    ¡°Me as well. I detest these long three-day shifts, but one does what one must to make a deal. The price of being a big fish in a small pond. Still, we do as we must to get by. Success must be achieved before those new to power are subjected to those old.¡±

    That statement worried me but I suppressed the inquisitive part of my mind with logic; he implied there were other creatures out there. If we, myself and the other three as prime examples, had grown this much in a few months, than those who had been here longer would be that much more frightening. To use Leon¡¯s terms, it was like a low-level person being suddenly run over by a higher-level team.

    The idea chilled me. Stella would never survive if creatures more powerful than the ones we¡¯d been facing suddenly showed up. The Ogre King still posed a threat and if there was worse to come, she¡¯d never make it. Once again, all my actions might be for nothing.

    The demon huffed another cloud of sulfur in my direction. ¡°How are you finding it? Life in this new world of ours?¡±

    ¡°Difficult to adjust to,¡± I responded honestly.

    ¡°Ah.¡± He snorted in amusement. ¡°Caused by the minimal guidance, I suspect. Such a pity. Mortals are, of course, constrained by freedom. Immortals have rules. But in between is dangerous. That time when the rules are still forming as the mind adjusts. I met a goddess once. Lovely thing, wispy limbs, and curls in her hair like freshly captured sunlight. When she smiled it was dawn. She¡¯d been mortal once herself, but sought love during her transition. Love became a chain. Such became her powers.¡±

    He nodded in my direction as though he¡¯d explained something noteworthy. He hadn¡¯t, and my confusion must have been obvious on the dimwitted face I wore.

    The demon snorted. ¡°The rules, you see, formed around her desires, those became her chain to transform mortal flesh into immortal. She is no longer burdened by free will like so many Adamschilds are. As yourself once was, before you found yourself in transition.¡±

    My face twitched a few times as I put serious thought into what the demon had said. A transition phase almost made sense, in a remote sort of way. Using fuzzy logic, it made even more sense. But then there was this other aspect, free will being removed by becoming something else. That¡ªI did not like. It sounded like slavery.

    ¡°Can you explain more?¡±

    The demon smiled, showing sharper teeth that caused his lips to puff out slightly.

    ¡°Certainly. Though it¡¯s best to start with common ground. As you¡¯ve, grown, no doubt by ridding the world of other ethereal nuisances given poor flesh, have you noticed changes in what functions you perform?¡±

    I nodded. The spells seemed unstable and performed in new ways as I acquired abilities and combined old ones. There didn¡¯t seem to be rules to the changes and that left me confused.

    ¡°Then you are on the path of transformation, as I was before settling upon a final form.¡± He nodded and I tightened my cheek in a partial frown. The demon must have noticed my dissatisfaction but took it in stride by continuing.

    ¡°To extrapolate, when I first, came to, in the border between this world and the last, I was making a deal with a rather sweet woman. She offered the use of her nethers in exchange for a bit of my debt, you see. A deal, as it were. One I made more than once. This shaped me, and now I subsist on deals.¡± He wiggled long fingers and nodded. ¡°And, carnal delights, of course.¡±

    The bus shifted as the large troll woman poked her head out to glare at us. The demon waved. I turned back and forth between the two of them, trying to understand what the nonverbal exchange meant.

    ¡°Deals are for the crossroads,¡± the demon said by way of explanation. ¡°So, not here naturally. Travelers on the bus are forbidden, you see, from being anything but cordial. Were I to make an offer on your soul, it would be frowned upon, and I¡¯d be left with no way to get to work.¡±

    That made sense. The bus driver had been listening to us and moved to act against the demon for potentially getting out of line. It also served as a reminder that the driver could hear us talking.

    ¡°I¡¯d noticed she runs a tight ship,¡± I said.

    ¡°Ah. She is the driver. She is the bus. So naturally, while here, we must obey her rules. It¡¯s a small domain. A tiny one. As the crossroads are to me. Tell me, brother, have you a domain?¡±

    I wasn¡¯t sure I wanted to answer that. He¡¯d been kind and didn¡¯t dance around topics, but his manner of speaking could be hiding deeper meanings. Giving a demon an answer about myself might also be unwise. My brother would have thought so.

    But his words of domains and solidifying views made sense. Allegra, Callisto, and Leon had already found their way to interact with the world. Knowing Leon believed this to be a video game with quest boxes and other nonsense didn¡¯t help me. But this demon¡¯s words, they implied Leon¡¯s view was a result, or lead to, transforming into something greater.

    ¡°Negative,¡± I offered after deliberation. It was the truth. I had no specific place to call my own. ¡°Nothing like this.¡± I gestured with one hand at the surrounding bus.

    ¡°A roamer then. Such a thing is understandable. Though as you grow you¡¯re likely to, solidify, as it were.¡± He brought up two fingers to his forehead and tapped at the base of either horn. ¡°And that changes you, until you are, final. For instance I had much smaller horns a year ago. There were also more, unwary mortals traveling about. They paid a price, I gained a reputation, and became more, as I said, finalized. Finished, but only in one sense of the word. You understand?¡±

    The demon was strangely kind and gave me time to ponder his words. He stared at me with pitch black eyes that seemed like a soulless hungry abysses. I felt certain he would squish in the palm of my hand if we got into a fight.

    ¡°Parts,¡± I answered.

    ¡°That¡¯s all we are. Parts become part of something larger. Parts of who we were, mixed with parts left over of the old. Though I¡¯ve heard the¡ª¡± The demon paused and leaned to the side. I would have said he was eying the bus driver before daring to utter something dangerous, but without pupils I couldn¡¯t tell. ¡°The Wildchilds, those who suffered most recently from the Adamschilds, are playing a bigger game. Something more than a war of attrition or refilling the ranks.¡±

    He glanced around again, slower this time, studying the windows and rear of the bus. It all seemed normal enough to me, given we were in a fantasy construction made to resemble a modern innovation.

    ¡°Have you found that secret yet? They say that anyone who learns the truth, will be a prince when the merger comes.¡±

    My eyes narrowed. I had a lot of little secrets that I¡¯d gathered, but none of them fit with what he was saying. In truth, I had no clue how to process what he¡¯s spoken of at all.

    Post Note: And, it is here I should mention a dangerous secret. Or perhaps I should say, I¡¯ve mentioned the dangerous secret already¡ªfrom his mouth. Not only did he explain to me that we were being changed¡ªbut that we were being changed to ¡°fill the ranks.¡± That implies we¡¯re replacing people, or preparing for a war. But against who? Humanity?

    ¡°Ah, my stop. Home sweet home. A small piece of hell to warm my soul on these chilly days. I must be going, do give Atropos my regards.¡± He spoke calmly and showed no regard for the after echo of screaming that came with his voice. I ignored the effect, trusting that we were in a sanctuary space.

    ¡°And your name?¡± I asked as he got up to pass me.

    ¡°No demon names on the bus!¡± the driver shouted, followed by the wet sound of phlegm being rolled in the back of her throat.

    He smiled and stepped to the front. ¡°Oh, my dear Mister Underwood, knowing a demon¡¯s name is as dangerous as making a deal with one. For your own safety I must decline, you understand. Names have power.¡±

    He walked off. I didn¡¯t retort, but the demon knowing my name, in light of his own being dangerous worried me. The only redeeming feature is that I¡¯d labeled myself before anyone else could.

    The doors started to close and the demon tapped on my window. I looked over, and he shouted through the window. ¡°Farewell, or don¡¯t. If you find yourself in need of a job, I always welcome those willing to solve problems, in any manner of ways!¡± His voice drifted off as the driver put us into high speed.

    Post Note: I still don¡¯t entirely know why names are so important. Time and time again it¡¯s been mentioned, time and time again it¡¯s proven nothing. So far, the only example of it seeming to matter belongs to Midge and Mister Yuck Yuck. That, and I can¡¯t call myself by something that isn¡¯t mine, is it related to titles?

    The landscape zipped by even faster. My trollish chauffeur leaned. ¡°Next stop, market. Twenty minutes!¡±

    Twenty minutes was a long time on this bus. If I followed her explanation from the last ride, it was a spot that was far away. It would have been hours by any normal means, even if I had a clue where this place was in relationship to everything else.

    There were ways to distract myself. Focusing on my abilities had been the easiest. Using the white spell as Lance had given me the ability to walk through walls. That fit with the large horse monster with wings I¡¯d first seen. There was a small chance it was like my red spell, that shifted from a remote trap to a charging type move between forms.

    Maybe it didn¡¯t. I wouldn¡¯t know unless I risked trying. I opened the book and prepared myself for trial and error. One big thumb reached down to pool white energy.

    ¡°No spells on the bus!¡± the trollish driver bellowed. ¡°You fucking idiot! Read the sign.¡± A large thumb jerked out into the isle. She must have meant the gibberish up on a space near the ceiling. On city buses, that same space was used for ads and reminders of route changes. This one had nonsense scrawled along it in a flowing script.

    I sat and thought myself in circles for twenty minutes. The bus brakes went on. We skidded, turned in circles, and slammed to a stop.

    ¡°Get out!¡± the trollish driver shouted.

    I stood and wiggled my legs. They hadn¡¯t healed completely and scars crisscrossed all over my exploded skin. The sight made me feel grim and battle worn. I lumbered up to the front and glanced behind her at the map. There were no glowing flames telling me where this place was in relationship to my hometown.

    ¡°Pardon me, ma¡¯am¡ª¡±

    ¡°Out!¡±

    ¡°If I might inquire¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fuck your Christ in the eye!¡±

    That seemed uncalled for. These changed creatures, such as the stewardesses and this bus driver, didn¡¯t like religion.

    ¡°If, we¡¯re soon to be joined with a world beyond ours, would anything scare you?¡±

    ¡°Unionization.¡± She scowled, stuck out her cigar and rubbed it into my arm. The mild sting hardly phased me as I put thought into her words. ¡°Now get out.¡±

    The huge troll of a bus driver proceeded to dig between her disgustingly large thighs and fished out another cigar. I shuddered and escaped before she could subject me to any more disturbing mental images. Before my trashcan hit the ground, the bus peeled out. By the time I¡¯d turned around the large wooden vehicle with its burning candle lights had vanished into the distance.

 Book 2, Rule 25

    Rule 25

    Age Breeds Madness & Read Fine Print

    Statement: I¡¯ve yet to figure if these intelligent monsters are speaking English, or if we¡¯re hearing another language and translating it. Though if I use the language my written words turn into as a standard, it is likely they¡¯re not using English at all. This possibility also runs in reverse. It¡¯s possible I can¡¯t read the words because I¡¯m not writing in English. If so, what am I writing in?

    There is a third conjecture, someone or something is trying to get us to learn the new material¡ªas one would teach a child by showing the word apple next to the picture. By seeing our words transform into a new language, the gap is being bridged. Again, to what end?

    This place looked familiar but different at the same time. I tried to recall where I¡¯d seen all of this before. Eventually it hit me. When we¡¯d first been brought to the world it was as though we¡¯d driven forever and ended up outside a large stadium. Our path had gone on for hours, or days, or an eternity, all around the building. We¡¯d doubled back and gone in circles then been dropped into a length of stores.

    Where I¡¯d arrived now, again from a bus, was a lot like that location we¡¯d been duped into traveling to, only run down. Garbage was everywhere. Most of it so old it¡¯d been matted to the floor by rain and dirt, then new layers had formed over the old and once again been matted down by rain and dirt.

    I half expected to turn around and see the letters E-X-I-T forming an ominous red warning in the sky. There was nothing. Just another view on the exact same building, with the same stores lined up going the other direction. I could have been staring at a mirror.

    On my feet went, slowly but steadily. One hand stayed on the spell book in case a wild vending machine attempted to attack me. It wouldn¡¯t do any good, they moved too fast. Still, being prepared was a decent life practice, even if it would go to waste.

    All the stores were closed. Or at least boarded up. I could almost remember seeing a news anchor on television eons ago, standing at the edge of a hurricane. In the background had been sealed up houses and a chaotic mess exactly like what I stared at now. In this strip mall, there were no hurricanes. Even now the sky was calm. The dull gray above seemed distant and exhausted.

    Onward down the row I walked, seeking clarity, or at least a sign of some open doorway in which to go. The bus driver had called this a market. It might have been at one point, but no longer. I sighed heavily, pulled out my book and stared at the back page in hopes of finding directions magically in English. My finger pressed the one readable word, Atropos. It could have been a name or a title.

    ¡°A Thread For Life,¡± someone said.

    I turned. A tall woman with elongated ears stood in front of a storefront that I could swear had been boarded up. I checked again. She wasn¡¯t an elf, and her ear weren¡¯t pointed, but drawn and high. As if her body had been stretched out like taffy and decided to stay locked at the wrong proportions.

    ¡°A Thread For Life.¡± Even her words felt long. Not slow exactly but they spoke of age and vibrated like an elderly woman¡¯s. ¡°For each life is provided a single woven strand. Or a pair of pants that will last until the end of that life. You have come to buy some¡±¡ªshe paused and waved dismissively at me¡ª¡°decent attire.¡±

    She didn¡¯t say it like a question. No words were added for confirmation. She simply knew I wanted pants. I chalked it up to magic, smiled in a way that generally unnerved people, and nodded. My eyes darted to the building behind her. Mannequins were visible, wearing different colored clothes. The doorway looked bright and clean. Even the pavement at her doorstep was devoid of clutter.

    When I said nothing, she lifted an eyebrow in a high arch and said, ¡°You are in search of serviceable clothes.¡±

    ¡°A more durable pair of pants would be delightful.¡± I coughed and pushed for a simpler answer. ¡°Correct.¡±

    The unnamed woman switched eyebrows and lifted the other one. ¡°Be wary, little smiling killer. I¡¯ve no desire to take your debts. My store only trades wares for wears. And in trade you offer me ill cared for spider silk, captured and spun out from the nether.¡±

    Once again, she spoke in certainties. It also reminded me of the stewardesses, and sometimes Midge. They used choppy sentences that made sense on their own but occasionally switched between concepts with a disturbing fluidity. Either they weren¡¯t used to speaking English, or I wasn¡¯t hearing them right.

    She turned and walked to the doorway, waved, and a click sounded. The doorway opened without either of us pushing. The stretched-out woman walked in and pointed to a clear spot by the counter.

    ¡°You¡¯ll put the barrel there and the webbing there. You¡¯ll mangle the webs but that¡¯s hardly your fault. Your current meat suit is hardly one for more refined pursuits. That¡¯s why you¡¯ll switch to something more handsy.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t even begin to question why she knew about my other forms. The barrel went onto the clear spot, and webbing onto some device that reminded me of a scale. I did mangle them, but they were sticky and it was hard to get them off my fingers.

    The woman said nothing more of payment. Somehow she¡¯d known exactly what I had, wanted, and worked toward completing the deal. Webbing was loaded onto another wooden object in the background. She wound her fingers through them and turned out threads and fed those into a machine with too many moving parts for me to comprehend.

    ¡°Now I explain to you what is happening. This device¡ª¡± She waved at the whirring machine behind the pristine counter top. ¡°It¡¯s not as good as the spindle my sister used, but such is life. We¡¯ve all suffered setbacks over the centuries. But I keep the final snipping to myself, you see. Just to separate threads and keep the edges neat. Not like my sister¡¯s. When we first picked our tools she mangled it all. Leaving split ends and unfinished lines. A ghastly mess. Not for me. I prefer simple and clean results, as will you.¡±

    She said all this, while continuing to transform webs into usable thread. I wondered why the material didn¡¯t snap and shrugged. Magic was magic and followed no rules but its own. All the while the person, who I assumed must be Atropos, continued to talk.

    ¡°Now my other sister. She waxes on for hours about how the weavings aren¡¯t perfect. She takes a piece she really likes and moves the thread here and there until it is simply perfect. Then I¡¯d snip and clip the ends. Every time my youngest sister would complain. That¡¯s why we get rid of her. She is foolish, foolish enough to believe that other woman. What is her name? Cestis. Sounds like zits to me. As useless as a boil but clever enough to fool a fool. Not that that¡¯s worth much. You mortals, always playing fools for each other. Fools in love. Fools in life.¡±

    I wondered if there was a connection between all these inhuman women. Maybe they sought to fill the silence. Midge had yammered on for hours. This woman did as well. Maybe it was me. Something about my face, all three of them, might simply beg to be talked to as if I was a lost puppy. It annoyed me.

    ¡°Now. You give me a golden thread. A single golden thread.¡± She stuck out her hand.

    I still had the strand I¡¯d gained from the dead spider overlord. I pulled it from my pocket and vaguely wondered why Callisto hadn¡¯t stolen it when she stabbed me in the gut. My attention drifted, and the stretched-out woman snatched the thread away when I wasn¡¯t looking.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°Gold has value, enough to give a mortal life. Short though. Hardly enough to last past infancy. Well, for a god it¡¯d be even less. For an Adamschild, thirty or forty years, then tragic bus accident, that sort of thing. With a thread it is forty or fifty then a heart attack. But for you. Pants. An equatable trade.¡±

    The stretched-out woman might have been ancient. I couldn¡¯t tell for sure. Her body had the same drag older men had but without wrinkles. She sighed heavily and hung like a puppet with cut strings. ¡°Ah only my sister could understand what I¡¯ve been reduced to. She finds it fitting, but I got rid of her too. Can¡¯t trust her after what we do to our youngest sibling. So, it¡¯s me and the spindle, me and the loom, me and the sheers.¡±

    She went back to work. The last of the spider webbing was turned into threading. She spun the golden bit into the rest, using whatever fancy magic crafters of this world had, until the material reminded me of a cloudy sky with a bit of sun poking through.

    ¡°It¡¯s a lot of work, but necessity is the mother of invention! I should know. Invention is an ungrateful bitch. Just like my sisters. I told you about them. Or I will. I¡¯d be sorry for the confusion but I wasn¡¯t or won¡¯t be.¡± The spindly woman stared across the counter at me. Or just above my shoulder. It was hard to tell. She had clearly gone off her rocker.

    For a moment, I felt disconnected. The old disgusting short man who reminded me so much of a biker, had been easier to understand. This woman rambled. Anyone who had shopped here during those first few days might have gone mad. Assuming anyone could afford to trade goods that early in the process.

    I¡¯d lost track of what she was saying and resumed focusing on her movements.

    ¡°One day you¡¯ll learn to merge a spell or two. That will be for the best. Then you will choose to become another you, naked, or with a fine garment.¡± She lifted part of her mouth in a grin and wiggled her eyebrows. ¡°You¡¯ll find being given a choice to be grand. Though, when my sisters take notice, they skin me for even suggesting anyone had choices.¡±

    She stepped away from the counter and the workshop rippled. Someone peeled away a layer of illusion and what was left made me sick. The loom behind her took on a form less mechanical and seemed to be a stretched out body, reassembled into a wholly unnatural shape. The object sending a shuttle back and forth might be distorted hands. The pieces holding thread together and closing the weave might have been ribs. They were red and still dripping. Hair strung down from above and a face seemed stretched over the carpet below.

    Then the image faded, once again replaced by an illusion of a perfectly fine, but confusing machine. I froze and refused to put much consideration into the backroom. All the while, the woman who might be Atropos continued her work.

    Post Note: I have my suspicions on what I¡¯d seen, that she¡¯d killed her sisters¡ªas mentioned¡ªand turned them into a machine to continue this morbid task of making thread. As with some of the more dangerous thoughts in my head, I dare not speak it aloud.

    A large rusty pair of scissors slid out from under the counter. Seeing them made my heart skip a beat. They smelled of musk and blood. That might have been the machines. Ever since I¡¯d seen the brief image behind the curtains, I couldn¡¯t turn off the heightened nose of Mister Underwood.

    ¡°A snip here. No, I say here!¡± The woman¡¯s face contorted, and she shook a hand at someone unseen. I closed my eyes and fought a shudder. She might be arguing with the dead body of her repurposed family members. ¡°Here it is, here it shall be.¡±

    She took the pants over to the counter and folded them, they looked like any other pair of jeans I¡¯d stolen from empty houses. A hint of gold could be seen in the seams, but the rest had the same dull gray coloring of spider webs.

    ¡°A price paid. A product gained. A Thread for Life. Still, some spinning remains on the loom and I¡¯ll buy it as well.¡± Her lips flattened to a scowl and in a venomous tone she shouted, ¡°You will be silent!¡±

    She held the last bit of unused thread. A small fleck of gold still lay beneath the gray webbing.

    ¡°I will tell you a truth. A single truth as a fair exchange for the remaining bit of thread. A small truth for hardly anything at all. Just enough for a mortal to open their eyes to reality. No more than a God sips with their tea. One that shakes you to your core.¡±

    She was madder than the stewardesses, and no matter her truth, I believed it impossible to disturb me that deeply. There was nothing she could say that would bother me more than what I¡¯d already been through. The line from hell. Knowing most of my family was dead. Doubting my own father. Killing people without remorse in the name of survival. What¡¯s more, I faced those things and simply took note of them.

    But she shook me anyway. The loom in the back room moved and the scent of blood increased. Death hung close as Atropos continued to talk.

    ¡°This world is a lie,¡± Atropos said. ¡°But a dream. It is nothing but smoke and mirrors, and souls lost in a hungry darkness.¡±

    Something moved. It reminded me of the vending machines and the way they flashed with bursts of unseen speed. Only this thing, whatever it may be, was shrouded by a haze. If the store¡¯s rear had been a backdrop on a play, this thing rolled in the backstage and loomed over Atropos¡¯s shoulders.

    ¡°And you, you¡¯re the son of a liar. A liar called¡ª¡± I watched in horror as the looming shape behind her became apparent. Machinery from the back room, in all its broken flesh and blood puppetry, had extended itself out and snapped the woman¡¯s neck.

    Atropos hadn¡¯t even had time to fight back. It was quick.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± I mumbled, shaken and worried I might be next. My feet slowly backed away. Even as Mister Underwood, whatever that thing was, had frightened me. Toughness did not mean immortality.

    Minutes passed. Sounds from the rear room reminding me of machinery whirred to life. Saws carved away at material that couldn¡¯t be wood. The sharp scent of blood filled the room with even more intensity than before. After a minute, Atropos walked back out, looking the same as ever. She nodded to the pants, still sitting on the counter.

    ¡°Our business is concluded. Take your goods and leave.¡±

    I was left with more questions than ever. The bell behind me jingled. I stepped back and kept the rear room, Atropos, and the door in sight. As I backed up, she stepped from behind the counter, and I could see bits of the golden thread woven into her feet, it reminded me of seams on a puppet¡¯s feet.

    ¡°We meet again, Lance. Hawthorn. Underwood.¡± Atropos smiled.

    Post Note: While I cannot accurately describe the way she smiled, I can say that it filled me with unease. Her words, her feet, the way she proclaimed the future, or perhaps all these things together. There are forces that I want to meet again, to defeat and take prizes from, such as Mister Yuck Yuck, and there are those so far beyond my understanding, that I dare not.

    It is here I must add speculation¡ªthat perhaps people like Atropos are from the ¡°Greater world¡± or ¡°older generation¡± that the demon and bus driver spoke of. If this is true, then we are small fish, racing to grow up, before being throw into a sea filled with hungry sharks.

    Then I was out, the door slammed shut, and all lights clicked off.

    I swallowed. My throat felt dry and body ached in all the wrong places. The pants pressed firmly against my chest. They¡¯d been picked up, though I couldn¡¯t say when. Perhaps I¡¯d been under a spell the whole time. I shook my new clothing to see if spiders or pieces of bone might fall out, but they seemed harmless. No matter how hard I looked, there was no sign of disgusting webbing.

    On they went. They fit comfortably. I peeled off Mister Underwood¡¯s form, and found the pants still fit perfectly.

    My body faded. As before, I could feel the difference between being visible and hidden from sight. The change muted my sense of smell but my eyesight sharpened in exchange. I held my spell book under an arm and moved onward. It was time to find the second store. At least with Hephaestus, I felt less afraid. He was a junk dealer selling broken goods. Gruff, disgusting, but not disturbing and prophetic.

    His store was a few doors down, if my memory of the last trip to this place held true. I kept my finger on the card this time, sure that pressing it had somehow triggered Atropos¡¯s earlier appearance. The doorway didn¡¯t look too different from the rest of these shabby stores. Only a single light behind dark tinted windows served as a sign that anyone might be home.

    I elbowed the door open and stepped into the store and grunted. It would have been easier with Mister Underwood¡¯s strength, but these entryways were narrow. I¡¯d barely gotten my bulk into A Thread For Life.

    The inside felt drastically different. Thick air and a haze near the ceiling weighed on me. My eyes drooped, head swam, and armpits hurt. I felt the cool liquid of blood roll down my side and toppled.

    ¡°Another deerless beggar? I thought we were done with this nonsense. Yet here I am. When I get my hands on those three I¡¯ll wring their necks and use their wings to line my pillow. Or maybe a fan. I haven¡¯t had a good fan since those damn Greeks.¡±

    Above me stood the gruff store owner. He chewed on something that would probably smell gross. His thick beard had stains and this time I could see how muscled his arms were, to the point of looking short. He bent over and picked up the spell book I¡¯d had by my side this entire time.

    I tried to speak but my throat dried up. Instead I bent to the side in a coughing fit. With each jerk, my hip ached more. The pain I¡¯d been free of for so long was back, I couldn¡¯t push it away.

    ¡°What, in the name of your Christ, sort of mangled mess have you turned this into?¡±

    The man walked off. With each step his feet sounded heavier. It might have been the pulsing of my loud heartbeat amplifying the noise. Without the book, I had nothing. No spells, no other forms, and no power to survive this world. He¡¯d taken it away.

    I lay there as my eyes drifted down. Even my toes, the ones I¡¯d lost during the accident, were gone again. But, at least I had pants.