《Cottagecore Dungeon》 Ethel Merriweather, dead at last Death wasn¡¯t so bad after all. By the time it came for her, Ethel Merriweather welcomed it with open arms. Quite literally. The Volkswagen beetle hit her while she was slowly crossing the street ¨C her groceries flying out in every direction. All those years of playing ¡°slug bug¡± with her nephews came back to bite her in the rump. Contrary to what one might expect at Ethel¡¯s age, she didn¡¯t die immediately. She was rushed to the hospital for the third time this month. And this time, it would be the last. Which was fine by her. She was tired. Her body frail. Her arms and legs were not much more than flabby sticks. Her house in long disrepair after she couldn¡¯t keep up with it. She had lived a good life. A rewarding one, despite all the challenges. She had married, grown old with her partner, raised children, and retired into a pleasant retirement. Anything beyond that was just a pain in the neck ¨C her back especially had ached for years ¨C and now everything was much worse after being hit by a blue bug. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. In the final month of her life, one of her young nieces had introduced her to video games to pass the time. A whole new world had opened up to her. One not constrained by physical limitations. Where she could make all the choices she wanted for herself. The ones that involved action and quick reflexes did not interest her. Instead, she latched onto games with management elements. Tending to a virtual garden and pixelated home was an enjoyable distraction and acceptable replacement as her real ones had sadly withered away. It was turning a new leaf on her life right before death. This hobby continued into the final days of her life. Loved ones had visited often, but they couldn¡¯t stay forever. There were times when she was left alone, when not even the nurses came by. Ethel Merriweather passed away in her sleep. A portable game system still clutched in her hands - a save screen for Animal Crossing still illuminating the dark hours in her hospital room. Chapter 2: Uphill, Through the Snow Difficulty Chapter 2: Uphill, Through the Snow Difficulty I awoke to dirt. A whole mountain of it. Pressing down right upon my face. Because I was underground¡­ Clearly, not dead. Which, honestly, was terrifying. Amid my video game style hallucinations, I had clearly not kicked the bucket. No, far worse: they had somehow managed to bury me alive. Honestly, I¡¯m not surprised. That¡¯s exactly something my family would do. Intentionally or not. I probably had it coming. The hospital in today¡¯s age though? Well, that¡¯s not surprising either¡­ I never did like that nurse. But surely someone would have noticed before they buried me alive, right? Just they wait until they hear from my lawyers. Ha! I scrambled about in the dark and tried to reach out, seeing if there was some sort of rope I could pull to ring a bell that would alert the local grave-keeper to get to diggin¡¯. That was something I had read about back from times of medieval plagues. Maybe they still did it? Or so, I thought. In my scrambled panic of trying to grab anything I realized I didn¡¯t feel¡­ anything at all. None of those fragile sensations from that old mortal shell. I still tensed up and my breathing was rapid, but there was no bodily response accompanying that. Yet I could slowly see in the dark as my eyes adjusted. It was less like being a spirit, and more like some sort of sleep paralysis, except I could¡­ see everywhere? Wait just a moment here. I¡¯m a ¡­ rock? A big lumpy, gray rock. Granted, it was a rock with a big ol¡¯ crack split down the middle showing a shiny mauve purple crystal geode core center that radiated outward in a pretty manner. Specks of yellow glimmered across the surface and the air appeared to shimmer there as if it was trapped in a hot mirage. I found myself mesmerizing to behold, if I do say so myself. Perhaps I was a magical rock. But still, I was ultimately, just a rock. Well, fiddlesticks. Ain¡¯t that the shits. That wasn¡¯t a hallucination? You mean to really tell me that annoying air stewardess really started my life over?
  • USE MANA TO SHAPE YOUR SURROUNDINGS TO YOUR IDEAL ENVIRONMENT
  • CURATE AND PROTECT YOUR ENVIRONMENT
  • USE WHICHEVER BIOLOGICAL, MECHANICAL, MAGICAL, OR HAZARDOUS MEANS DEEMED NECESSARY>
    • Speak of the devil! What the blazes? You can hear me? ¡­ is what I tried to say. Except, turns out, rocks can¡¯t talk. Not much way to vocalize and all that jazz. Instead, a few new words and numbers popped up into the corner of my vision. [MERRIWEATHER DUNGEON GEOBLOOM CORE (LEVEL 1) MANA CAPACITY: 1/20 MANA RENEWAL RATE: 1 MINIONS: N/AStolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. TRAP INTEGRITY: N/A LOOT VALUE: N/A AVAILABLE SKILLS: LEYLINE KNITTING (LVL 1) GARDENCRAFT (LVL 1) MANA DUSTING (LVL 1) UNLOCKED POWERS: WEARY BONES AURA SCRAPBOOK SOULSTEW] No matter which way I turned to look, the words followed me around. At least I had something to read to pass the time? Well, and dirt and stones and some roots. Oh, there¡¯s a worm. And would you look at that, even more dirt. Apparently the hard, ''uphill through the snow'' level of difficulty mode of whatever game this was apparently resulted in perpetual boredom. The real challenge was not going insane. How thrilling. So there I was, waiting for something to happen. Anything. It would seem I had been left to my own devices. And my own devices appeared to be eternal suffering. Which meant a lot of time to think. I felt so out of touch near the end of my life. Everything was so confusing. And so far, not much seems to be different now. Maybe I was placed into some sort of video game simulation. Maybe this was some sort of sick joke. Or maybe Gertrude was right and I had finally gone senile. And maybe I didn¡¯t care which one it was. Might as well sit back, relax, and enjoy this vacation. Especially since it didn¡¯t involve Gertrude. That prudish. no-good, rotten home wrecking hussie¡­ Without even thinking about it, I lashed out in anger. As if trying to shove aside the thoughts. And, I got a nasty ''mouthful'' of dirt. I¡¯m sorry, can you repeat that? My ears aren¡¯t what they used to be. I stretched out my ¡­ mind, I¡¯m guessing, again. This time I chose a different direction. I reached out and willed the dirt gone, as if it had personally offended me. I watched closely as a small section of dirt tumbled and caved in on itself. Instead, a portion of the dirt was seemingly turned into wavering yellow and orange smoke. The kind of ugly colors you might see on the vinyl flooring of a tacky 70¡¯s kitchen. The smoke drifted about lazily for a moment, then immediately got swept up into my rocky self, straight to my geode center. And yessir, that did indeed taste like dirt. Specifically though, soil: clay and bacteria; nutrients and minerals; decomposing insect shell particles; nitrogen, calcium, oxygen¡­ Oh? You don¡¯t say, lady? None of the component parts of the dirt really mattered to me. I played hooky with chemistry class. But I can recognize a good feedback loop of positive reinforcement when I see one. An odd mix of emotions hit me all at once. Greed, satisfaction, pride, hunger¡­ All of them seemingly designed to motivate me to the task of shoveling soil around like a granny in a garden. Well¡­golly, if you insist. I must oblige. What else am I going to do? Alright. Let¡¯s try up this time. Eventually I¡¯ll reach the surface. What¡¯s the worst that could happen? And after six more modest scoopfuls and one more ¡°level up¡± of Mana Dusting, I had my answer: water. Water could happen. The rocks and soils would shift above me, collapse into my core, then automatically absorbed into wispy sulfurous smoke. Which wasn¡¯t so bad. Like my Pappy would always say before putting me in the timeout closet, ¡°Nothing like a good deal of claustrophobia to build character, eh?¡± But the problem was something far above had shifted just enough to divert some sort of reservoir or stream. Just a tiny trickle, slowly gaining in volume as the seconds ticked by. I quickly discovered I could not Mana Dust away water. It had no effect. Which gave me a bit of a startle. I couldn¡¯t swim well as a human. I certainly couldn¡¯t swim well as a rock! I frantically read through the see-through computer style screen that still remained in the corner of my vision. There were a lot of acronyms, made up words and phrases I didn¡¯t recognize, and enough grammatical errors to earn a switch across the wrists. It still didn''t make much sense to me. It all seemed like the kind of mumbo jumbo her nieces would be able to interpret. Which meant that there was still a logic and set of rules to how things worked. I just had to figure it all out. I noticed two immediate differences. The first being that Mana Dusting read as ''(LVL 3)''. And that Mana Capacity was at 15 out of 20. Wonderful. What the hell is ¡°Mana?¡± I was familiar with a similar word, Manna - food that fell from the heavens. When Moses had to cross the desert. Damn. That takes me back to Catholic School. My mother would be so disappointed to hear that I did not end up in Hell¡­ Right. Water. Drowning rock. What else have I got? I remembered one tidbit that the lady mentioned - that I could shape my surroundings to my ideal environment, using Mana. Gee, that sounds kind of like magic to me. Which meant I must have had other tools besides Mana Dusting at my disposal. What if I tried reaching out with my mind to manually clicking on the other skills? Would it give me options? Well, by golly, it does. They looked like schematics? Or blueprints? That¡¯s a lot of options¡­ Too many, actually. And I don¡¯t understand most of them! How am I supposed to make any choices at all? Okay, how about this? I¡¯ll click the first thing that looks good and see what happens. If chipper attendant lady is to be believed, I might be able to create objects? And maybe it¡¯ll plug up the water leak. It felt like a stretch. I clicked on a tree. And then the roots around and below me began to glow with a fierce green, rapidly absorbing the nearby water. Air from above whooshed downwards into the roots and a creaky groaning noise immediately began to follow. I watched with anticipation. Nothing happened. Then a full grown tree popped up from below me, launching me out of the earth. And into the sky. Chapter 3: Knee aches and back pain Chapter 3: Knee Aches and Back Pain ¡°Are you sure you saw this is the right address?¡± Sergeant Marrowmar asked. Even without eyebrows, he appeared skeptical. Then again, Sergeant Marrowmar always seemed to look skeptical. And grouchy. His frown lines somehow persisted into the afterlife. The skeleton squad stood before the small thatched roof cottage. It was on the outskirts of the small town of Poppymill. Up a few hills and windy roads, and at the end of the lane, shaded by a cluster of tall oak trees. A tall wooden arch covered in ivy marked the entrance to the residence. A carved wooden red robin perched upon the arch. Below that, there were two placards with numbers on them: the last two digits for the home address. There was space for two more placards, but they appeared to have fallen off over the years. ¡°Err.. yes. Maybe?¡± Jellybee replied. He earned his name right after his rebirth. While he was dead a thick honey bee hive took up residence inside of his rib cage and a large yellow mushroom had sprouted up through his skull. He refused to get rid of the nest. Or the ¡®hat.¡¯ He considered them fashionable. Jellybee glanced down at the address on his scrap of parchment, then back to the arch. ¡°The first two numbers of missing. But I¡¯m pretty sure. It matches the description.¡± ¡°Alright, good enough. Keep an eye out, boys,¡± Marrowmar marched forward, sword drawn and black cloak sweeping behind him. The only movement was of two stray cats scurrying off into the underbrush. The cottage certainly did seem to match the description. It was isolated away enough from civilization, but still close enough to be part of it. From the outside it didn¡¯t appear to be much more than a leaky old shack with a chimney and a few windows. A perfect location for a retired adventurer to settle down. ¡°Mardy, check the surroundings and keep watch in case they try to sneak out. The rest of you, follow me in,¡± Marrowmar barked. Mardy saluted with a rattle, drew a nasty looking warhammer off his back, and then stalked off into the overgrown garden that surrounded the building. Marrowmar kicked in the cottage door and the other three shuffled in with swords drawn. While the outside wasn¡¯t much, the inside wasn¡¯t much either. But it did have somewhat of a lived-in charm to the place. The furniture was sparse and the decor was minimal. A few plants wilted in pots by the window. A flight of creaky wooden stairs led upstairs to the bedrooms and there was a solid stone hearth fireplace in the common area. Sergeant Marrowmar stalked into the abode. No one appeared to be home. No boots by the door, coat on the rack, or soup in the pot. Best be sure though. ¡°Spinemess, check the pantry.¡± Spinemess, stoic as always, just nodded, then wobbled into the kitchen area that rounded the corner. ¡°And Jimbo-no?¡± ¡°Aye sir,¡± the last skeleton saluted. He wore an eye-patch. And somehow had managed to have a few sailor tattoos. Most notably, a knotted rope around his wrist bone and a dagger through a rose upon a femur. ¡°Check the upstairs.¡± ¡°On it.¡± Jimbo-no crept up the stairs and there was a moment of silence. Then there was a moment of loud banging noises, followed by cat screeching, profuse sailor curses, and more loud banging noises. Then tiny thunderous footsteps pounded down the stairs. A blur of black fur bolted out the front door. ¡°Nothing to report here, sir!¡± Jimbo-no called down. ¡°Indeed,¡± Marrowmar grumbled. He walked over to the hearth. There was a fresh stack of dried wood upon the pit, which made it appear as if someone had intended to use it soon. He dug into the ashes. The Witchpyre flames in his eyesockets suddenly blazed in intensity, then simmered to their usual smolder as he read the systems notifications his Skill provided. Nobody had used this hearth for a while.¡°It would appear our quarry is gone. Let¡¯s report back.¡± The sergeant turned to leave, but then stopped in his tracks as a system message overlaid his vision. ¡°What the-?¡± Jimbo-no yelled from upstairs. ¡°Ya¡¯ll seeing this new status?¡± ¡°That makes no sense. This town doesn¡¯t have a dungeon. And we¡¯ve been here a moment.¡± Sergeant Marrowmar muttered. ¡°If this house was a dungeon, the system wouldn¡¯t have waited to tell us.¡± Spinemess shambled back into the common area, with his head tilted to the side and his metacarpals facing forward in confusion. Jimbo-no tumbled down the stairs in a hurry. ¡°Well¡­ Maybe it just, uh, grew?¡± Jellybee asked. Marrowmar shook his head. ¡°Impossible. They don¡¯t grow in homes randomly. There¡¯s not enough concentrated mana. And no monsters here.¡± Jimbo-no chimed in. ¡°Besides us, you mean.¡± Mardy ran into the room from the front door. His war-hammer jingled against his chain-mail armor. ¡°Bad news, sir. The entire backyard is a dungeon. I even saw a tree spring up out of the ground!¡± ¡°It¡¯s here too, Mardy,¡± Jellybee said. ¡°It just popped up. You think it grew on a tree? I didn¡¯t bring the right gear to fight tree monsters¡­¡± He looked out the window. He chattered his teeth in anxiety.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Marrowmaw slapped his forehead. ¡°What? No, you imbeciles.¡± He sighed and crossed his arms, facing his squad. His eyes burned green with greed. ¡°We have a new mission. Start digging. Dungeon cores don¡¯t just fall out of the sky.¡± Before the skeletons could even salute, one did just that. The dungeon core crashed through the old cottage thatch roof, smashed through Sergeant Marrowmar¡¯s cranium, and landed in the hearth with an explosion of ash and bone-dust. The remaining boney boys just stared as the emerald witchpyre flames in Marrowmaw¡¯s eye sockets snuffed out with a poof of smoke. Then the body slowly crumpled to the ground. They stood there silently. After a moment they all in unison looked up at the hole in the ceiling, then back down to the hearth. A fire spontaneously lit in the hearth. Right below the dungeon core. Spinemess¡¯s jaw dropped to the floor. They just stood there staring for a moment, not sure what to do without their commanding officer around to bark orders. ¡°That¡­That¡¯s the dungeon core. Isn¡¯t it?¡± Jellybee asked ¡°Aye. That it is,¡± Jimbo-no affirmed. ¡°So, uh, do we take it?¡± Jellybee asked. He scratched at the straw-hat sized mushroom upon the top of his skull. It was an old habit that refused to die, even after he did. The other undead shrugged. They thought about it for a moment. Then nodded vigorously in unison. Spinemess was the first one to advance upon the smoldering, glowing gem in the flames. He got within a few feet of the fireplace. And then he fell seemingly over nothing. There was a sickening crunch as his hip bone hit the wooden floorboards. His bones rattled and vibrated fiercely. The others all rattled with laughter. Jimbo-no taunted, ¡°Well, what¡¯s the matter, Spiney? Afraid of a little fire?¡± Spinemess made muffled noises as he desperately tried to scooch backwards with flailing movements, like a fish hooked fish on land. (To be clear, undead skeletons, by their nature, defy some of the conventional aspects of reality. Like moving on their own. Or talking without vocal chords. Their very existence is a suspension of belief. Because magic. But even then, some things still have to make sense, such as talking without a jaw bone.) ¡°The damned fool dropped his jaw again. Of course he can¡¯t speak.¡± Jimbo-no sighed.¡°Mardy, be a dear and help out that spineless worm. I¡¯ll fetch the core.¡± Jimbo-no walked forward. And then, within a short distance of the Dungeon Core, also fell over in writhing agony. He started screaming. (To be even more clear, undead skeletons, being magical, also don¡¯t eat, or sleep, or breathe. They certainly don¡¯t feel pain.) ¡°WHY THE HELL ARE MY BONES HURTING?¡± He screeched. ¡°OH GOD. I CAN¡¯T GET UP. I DON¡¯T KNOW WHAT¡¯S WRONG. HELP ME. DON¡¯T JUST STAND THERE, JELLYBEE.¡± Jellybee valiantly charged forward. Only to trip over a convulsing Spinemess and fall straight into the lit hearth. His mushroom hat roasted in the heat. The waxy hive in his rib-cage immediately caught fire. Horrible screams flew out of his mouth. Along with some bees. Bees that were now on fire. Mardy, now holding a jawbone, valiantly charged straight out the front door. **** I awoke to the sound of several people screaming in agony. Golly. Creating a whole entire tree must have took a lot of me, huh? I must have briefly lost consciousness as I flew through the air. At least, I think it was briefly. But I somehow found myself suddenly in a room. And well I¡¯ll be. Yup. I¡¯m on fire. Everything indeed was on fire. And are those bees? Also on fire? WHAT ON GOD¡¯S GREEN EARTH HAPPENED HERE? AND WHY AM I SURROUNDED BY FOUR DEAD BODIES? How long was I asleep for? These corpses are nothing but bones! I¡¯m reminded of that one time when I was driving along in my neighborhood when I accidentally dozed off. It was just for a moment. Honest. Happens to everybody, right? The next thing I know, I¡¯m waking up in a ditch to the sound of sirens. It wasn¡¯t that bad. I was fine, really. I only hit one stop sign. And a car. Okay, okay, I¡¯ll admit, that was pretty bad. I lost my license not longer after that. You live and you learn, right? Well, I guess not. In retrospect... that might have ended up killing me. But I think this situation might be worse. Far worse. Whoops. Chapter 4: Into the Frying Pan Chapter 4: Into the Frying Pan This seemed fine. I mean, I was fine. I was sitting in some emerald green fire. Seemingly in a fireplace, of all things. Out of the frying pan, into the fire, right? But I didn¡¯t appear to be burning. Obviously, rocks don¡¯t burn. But they can scorch and crack under intense heat. On the other hand, I felt like I was shining brighter than ever. This appeared to be a sort of preference for my new form. It¡¯s way more to my liking than drowning or sitting in the bottom of some muddy pit. It felt cozy. Perfect for a nap. Oh, right, the home wasn¡¯t fine. It was also on fire. The non-cozy, non-emerald colored kind. Just normal, orange and red and dangerous hot fire. I realized it wouldn¡¯t be a home for long unless I did something about it! I had no idea what had happened, but I had the distinct impression that it was all my fault¡­ As far as I could tell, nobody was home. Which meant there would be nobody else to help bail me out of this mess. It wasn¡¯t like I could watch the house burn down around me. I would feel awful! Of course, I¡¯d get over it eventually, but I¡¯d still have to add it onto my nightly prayer list for the sins I had accidentally committed while sleeping. Time to roll up my sleeves and see what I was working with. And what do you know, there was a lot! Whatever happened between my little hole in the ground and being in this building, my awareness broadened greatly. The miracles of modern science! Before this, in the hole, I could see my rocky core self quite clearly. Like I had a 360 degree view. But it was limited. I had this vague feeling that I might have become part of the hole itself, which grew further as I dug around more. Up on the surface though, I could see everything. All at once. I wasn¡¯t just the rock. I was also the hearth beneath me. Including the very stones, the ashes, the fire itself. I had become part of it. The fire-pit was an extension of myself. Like hair growing in weird places as one got older. I was also the walls and the front door. I was the knickknacks on the shelves, the boots scuffs on the wooden floor, and the kitchen cabinets. I could also focus my attention - presumably my consciousness - to get a better look at things.I could peer into the contents of the closed cabinets if I concentrated, because I was them - including the awful recipe books inside. I was also the skeleton with the shattered skull on the floor in front of the fireplace. Strangely, though, I was not the other remaining skeletons. All three of them had eye sockets that glowed with dim emerald fire that burned on nothing. I could ¡®see¡¯ them through the rest of the house, but I was not them. And hey, lookie here: my consciousness could take a peek up the stairs to the bedrooms and zoom around the corner to see the pantry too. Big surprise: the pantry was also on fire. Okay then. Let¡¯s just step outside for a moment and get some fresh air. No use panicking in a tissy right now. Let me think about this a little. And hmm¡­ that¡¯s weird. I could see out the front door, but not by much. It was like my vision stopped at the porch and after that the rest of the world stopped existing. Or more specifically, that I stopped being part of the world? I was the porch, but not the grass right in front of it. When I tried looking out the backdoor, I found that I could indeed ¡°see¡± a bit further. All the way to the tree I had grown earlier. Along with the wind chimes on the back deck, all the flowers in the garden, the very top layer of soil, and the vines curling all around the pergola. All of that and the tree were part of me. But nothing beyond that. Fiddlesticks. My intuition told me there was a creek beyond that tree. But I wasn¡¯t sure how to get to it. And how to even use it, for that matter. I didn¡¯t exactly have hands, feet, or buckets for carrying water. I briefly considered digging a trench using my Mana Dusting Skill to carve a channel from the creek to the house. But that would have taken forever. Precious time that I didn¡¯t have. Even if I was faster, there was a chance I might black out again ¨C just like what happened with the tree. Besides, I still couldn¡¯t ¡®see¡¯ the creek. It might as well have not even been real. My consciousness drifted back to the cottage. I had an idea though. Maybe I could create something? I squinted at the screens. There really was a lot. Would a tree put out fires? No, Ethel, you silly goose. Trees are obviously only for emergency exits. But hey, there¡¯s something I had absorbed a lot of: dirt! That could work. I clicked on the option for dirt, half expecting it to pop out into existence all around me. Instead, it appeared as a soft blue, translucent cube, floating in the area before me. It reminded me of a ghost. Okay. What was I supposed to do with this? I turned my attention away from it. The cube followed. I turned my attention the other way. It followed again. It was currently floating in the corner, up against the ceiling. I don¡¯t have time for you right now. Go away, ghost dirt! It didn¡¯t. I gave it my best grandma glare. The best I could do as a rock. Unsurprisingly, that worked. It always does. The blue cube lost transparency and it materialized into an actual cube of dirt. Which promptly fell. Right on top of one of a very large, fiery bee that happened to be crawling around on the floor. The cube collapsed into a pile that buried the bug beneath it. Well. That¡¯s one fire out. Albeit a small one. Some words flashed in the corner of my screen briefly. It notified me that I had used one point of Mana. Which left me with zero out of twenty. I promptly blacked out. When I awoke the fires had spread. Mostly in small, isolated, random spots throughout the dwelling. Probably from the bees flying around¡­ Smoke had started to accumulate into the ceiling and the fire had spread into the upholstery. Things were looking bad. Not much time left if I want to put out this mess. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Ugh. That was not a fun nap. How long was I out? What century is it? Judging by the rate that the fire had spread, I hadn¡¯t been unconscious for long. Looking at my status screen, I had one Mana out of twenty again. I guess that my Mana recharged over time on its own. And that Mana was used to create or grow things. That kind of made sense. Mass don¡¯t come from nothing, ¡®cept God. Lesson learned: don¡¯t make dirt without more Mana. I mentally slapped myself awake. I had another idea. Mana Dusting didn¡¯t use up Mana. And it turned stuff into smoke. Maybe that would work on fire! I found the closest flame to me: the rug in the middle of the living area with a skeleton sprawled awkwardly out upon it. I reached out with my mind, and tried Mana Dusting away the fire itself. Nothing. I tried lashing out, concentrating real hard, and even verbal assaults. Still nothing. Drat. I pulled in my awareness as much as I could, just so I wouldn¡¯t be distracted. As just an orb, I pondered for a moment. I even tried looking over my screens and some of my options. Maybe I missed something. I even tried turning off and on some of the options in my menus. One of those was listed under Powers in my stats. Weary Bone Aura had a toggle. I flicked it on and off like a light switch. There was a brief moment when I thought I heard someone screaming and moaning in the background. But when I looked up from my screens there was nothing but bones. Weird. Must have just been the roaring fire. I¡¯ll leave it switched off for now, just to see if I notice any changes. Besides, why on God¡¯s green earth would I want bones to ache? I had enough of that in my last life, no thank you. Okay, this was not the right time to be playing around. Think, Ethel, think! Wait just one minute! Fire is a chemical reaction. It¡¯s basically already smoke. Of course I couldn¡¯t eat fire. But I could eat shit! Wait, no, that came out wrong. (Sigh. Look, pal, I dare you to try being a house on fire and see how well you do. It¡¯s very stressful. I obviously meant I could try ¡°eating¡± whatever mass is on fire before it spreads further.) I reached out to the rug with my mind again, this time focusing on the actual rug instead of the fire. I swept out with my Mana Dusting Skill, taking a chunk out of the rug. It immediately combusted into that ugly yellowish, orange smoke, along with gray smoke from the fire that also got snuffed out. The two smokes entwined together and drifted lazily up into the rafters. It worked! Ethel, you clever little minx. Alright, let¡¯s keep going. Don¡¯t mind me, Mr. No-Jaw. Just stay where you are. Because for whatever reason I wasn¡¯t able to Mana Dust his bones. Instead, I lashed out with wild abandon at the woven rug beneath the skeleton. Bit by bit, the fibers went up in yellowish, orange smoke. Slowly, but surely, the fire died out. It had nothing left to consume. The rug was completely gone. Along with the floor beneath it. Or more specifically, the trapdoor hidden beneath the rug. There was a heavy groan of wood bending and snapping¡­ Maybe I went a little overboard¡­ There was a final creak, the hinges gave way, then the trap door beneath the body collapsed inwards, plummeting the skeleton down a dark set of stairs leading into the basement. It tumbled down the steps with the loud crunching of bones. I¡¯m sure that¡¯s fine¡­ I mean, how was I supposed to know that there was a secret trapdoor hidden beneath the rug? But hey, I put out the fire in that spot! Along with some of the evidence of my potential crimes. Oh, exactly what I needed right now. A cheery attendant lady. I almost missed you. Almost. I looked up from my work. I had gotten distracted by working on that one spot for too long. The isolated fires had started combining. The entire kitchen and pantry was now a blazing inferno. The house was beyond saving. I would have to erase the entire house from existence to just put out the fires. But I still had to try, right? I could at least do some damage control. I bounced my consciousness between all areas, placing a little bit of attention everywhere, but mostly prioritizing the areas around any support beams or rafters. If the house collapsed, I wasn¡¯t even sure I would be able to survive that wreckage. Flames tickled the edges of the roof. I didn¡¯t know much about thatching, but it looked like not much more than tightly bound straw. I assumed that if any large embers got in there, it was all over. There would be nothing left. Anytime I noticed a large ember lodge itself in the thatching I immediately tore through the material, preventing it from spreading further. Otherwise, I tackled the kitchen area, since that seemed to be the worst off. I ¡°ate¡± through the wooden cabinets, paper recipe books, and wooden bowls - fighting fire with smoke. As I went along, the work went easier and I got more into the groove. And, by golly, it was working! The flames snuffed out as I brushed away the burning matter into non-existence. When I was done, the bottom of my vision was filled with notifications in bold letters, in one continuous scroll, like a news report on TV. Thankfully, the chipper flight crew member only said the final level skill increase out loud. Woohoo! Level those skills, baby! I had actually noticed that the work became easier and faster as I went along. At this rate I¡¯ll be able to Mana Dust any object in seconds. This will be a piece of - Attendant lady interrupted my thoughts with another announcement. I beg your pardon? I cut my celebrations short, mentally shoved aside the new menu screens that were popping up, and pulled my awareness back to survey the entire cottage. I expected only disaster, but found both good and bad news. The good news was that the fire was finally gone. Yay! The bad news was that so was most of the house¡­ Which apparently was a cause of celebration for my tormentors. That irked me. I found it curious that the attendant lady hadn¡¯t used plural language before. But now she did. Was she speaking for an entire flight crew? If so, this flight was on a path to hell with me as the only passenger. I mentally sighed. Black smoke filled the air. Ash coated the floor in thick clumps. The wardrobe was nothing more than a pile of soot. The bees were husks. None of the charm or decor remained. A couch had collapsed upon itself as a smoking ruin. Overall, not much remained. But it could have been worse. A lot worse. The stone hearth that held my core and the adjoined chimney were fireproof, as expected. The foundations and most of the floorboards still stood, leaving the basement untouched. Parts of the walls and baseboards still held, since parts were made of stone or brick. And the thatched roof and rafters, miraculously, still covered the house, aside from some patches I hastily tore out. All things considered, the essential framework of the cottage still stood. Even if the attendant ladies disagreed with my assessment. Besides that, all that remained was an innocent looking, shiny rock sitting in a fireplace. Surrounded by evil green fire. With most of the house burned down. And a few corpses laying about. Would the homeowners assume little old me had caused all this? Or the authorities? Eek. Maybe? I don¡¯t know! Okay. New plan: hide the bodies. Chapter 5: The First Unexpected Guest Chapter 5: The First Unexpected Guest Of course, I did now genuinely feel bad for setting the house on fire. If I had any doubts, the new achievement of ¡°Homewrecker¡± now haunted my status screen. What¡¯s done is done. No use crying over spilled bees. Except I really did not want to get in trouble when four corpses were discovered next to me. Well, three, now. Maybe I¡¯d get lucky and the local authorities would be understanding that this was all some big misunderstanding! I doubted that. As a Dungeon Core I could no longer play the ¡°innocent old lady¡± card to get away from consequences. I had been given a sliver of freedom. And I didn¡¯t want to lose it. I wouldn¡¯t be able to handle rock jail! I tried Mana Dusting away the skeletal remains. To my surprise, when I reached out with my minds towards the body with the shattered skull, it disintegrated with the faintest touch. I barely brushed up against the bones and they immediately crumbled into bone dust before changing into smoky mana. My shiny mauve core promptly gobbled up the smoke. Yummy. Nothing like huffing bone dust first thing in the morning. Ah, yes. I had noticed my Mana did not level rise. I mean, I had just barely Mana Dusted away half the house, so that made sense. The ¡°Capacity¡± capped out at twenty. I supposed I couldn¡¯t complain. I was taught to be thankful and let nothing go to waste. There are children in Africa who never get to have bone dust. Well, that was easy peasy. Onto the next one! I immediately ran up against that invisible wall again. Just like last time. Or like when I try to step past the porch. While I could Mana Dust around the two bodies, I couldn¡¯t touch them at all. I was stumped. There was some rule that somebody wasn¡¯t telling me. Figures. I currently didn¡¯t have any other great methods for corpse disposal. I could collapse the floorboards under them. Or bury them under dirt. But no. The former would take too long and the latter might put me to sleep. I was on borrowed time. Someone could show up at any moment to investigate. That amount of smoke must have been seen from miles away. The solution seemed to be in my other abilities. Miss Flightcrew said that I had a new Power and Skill to choose from. I reckoned there laid my path ahead. If not, I¡±ll bury them under a tree. That might be nice. I pulled up my status screen: [MERRIWEATHER DUNGEON GEOBLOOM CORE (LEVEL 2) MANA CAPACITY: 20/20 MANA RENEWAL RATE: 1 MINIONS: N/A TRAP INTEGRITY: N/A LOOT VALUE: N/A AVAILABLE SKILLS: LEYLINE KNITTING (LVL 1) GARDENCRAFT (LVL 2) MANA DUSTING (LVL 7) UNLOCKED POWERS: WEARY BONES AURA SCRAPBOOK SOULSTEW TITLES GAINED: HOMEWRECKER] Hmmm¡­ Interesting. Yup. Still had no idea what half of that meant. Presumably, I gathered a bunch of Mana from Mana Dusting. And the Gardencraft Skill probably let me grow trees. But I still didn¡¯t know what a ¡°Leyline¡± was. Nor what my powers did. ¡°Scrapbook Soulstew¡± were all individual words I understood, but sounded revolting when said together like that. I opened up the Skill options first, since those seemed more immediately useful. These words were read out to me by a different voice. Praise the lord. I didn¡¯t think I could handle every menu being read out by that one lady. This new woman seemed much more casual, yet still very hospitable and almost conspiratorial. She reminded me of this waitress in the south. I think her name was Milly? She poured an extra shot of espresso in my coffee for free. Along with a shot of whiskey. Bless her soul. Honestly. She had the best gossip. : : : Why, thank you, kindly, Milly. All these options seem¡­ adequate. The descriptions are certainly enlightening. Why can¡¯t more of your coworkers be like you? I don¡¯t know why the flight attendant lady had to be so rude and refuse to even give me a safety instruction video for this trip, but it appears Milly has my back. But what was I supposed to do with rambunctious dust bunnies? Even worse than that. I surmised that I could upgrade ¡°Weary Bones Aura¡± into ¡°Brittle Bones Aura.¡± It was a Power that inflicted bad knees upon people? That¡¯s¡­ Oh my word! Maybe I got this all wrong. Maybe I¡¯m not the one being tortured. Maybe I AM the torture device! I¡¯m sorry, Milly. I really appreciate the advice. I don¡¯t see how your suggestions on new Powers will help me get out of this bind, but right now you¡¯re the only one I can trust. I mentally reached out to make my selection. And was interrupted by a loud groan. ¡°Ah, fuck. My back. Why. Why does my back still hurt?¡± I hesitantly closed down the Skill tree. Who was that? Nobody had entered my field of vision. One of the skeletons. The one with the eye-patch. It was moving! The skeleton groaned loudly again in a masculine voice, heaved itself to a sitting position, then took a deep breath. (I could only describe it as that. Its head titled back and its spine straightened out, before slouching again). The voice that came from the skeleton was higher pitched, yet distinctly male. I presumed. I could never keep up with any pronouns besides ¡°hey, you.¡± The skeleton man had a voice that reminded me of a New Jersey dock worker I once dated in college. He was a prick. Good in the sack. But still a prick. ¡°Oyy, Jellybee! You alright? Heauggegh!¡± As he tried to stand up he let out a definitive and classic ¡®old man getting up from sitting too long on the floor¡¯ noise. His knees wobbled for a moment and he almost teetered before he straightened out. ¡°Ha! Made it.¡± He popped his back spine and let out a hearty grunt. I selected the ¡°Soul Stroll¡± Skill. Chapter 6: No Good Deed Unpunished Chapter 6: No Good Deed Unpunished Jimbo-no had burned down many a fine establishment in his time. For good and for evil. Even before he rolled over in his grave a few times. But this was the first time he had managed to sleep through one burning down around him. The walking, talking skeleton with an eyepatch and sailor tattoos took one long look all around, then let out a low whistle. Which he still wasn¡¯t sure how he was able to do without lips or an actual mouth. Some noises just came to him naturally as the day he was unborn. ¡°Hey, Jellybee. You still kickin¡¯?¡± To emphasize his point he kicked the other corpse. Affectionately. Jellybee let out a low groan, then rolled over - turning away from the other one. Jimbo-no eyed the Dungeon Core sitting in the hearth, all aglow with ominous green light. Was it brighter now? He had no doubt that it was the cause of their wicked rest. Nor did he doubt that it let them go from its aura for no reason. He suspected it had been active while they were out cold. He was willing to bet the blasted death ball was concocting vile machinations at that very moment. It was too risky to try to take it again. He just hoped it wouldn¡¯t try to take them instead. ¡°Come on, ya lazy bones! This ain¡¯t time for a kip or siesta.¡± He kicked him once more, for good measure. Jimbo-no was not normally prone to violence as a solution for every problem. Just sometimes when he felt his unlife was on the line. Which happened to be a lot in his line of work. Jellybee sat up slowly. He turned slowly to stare at the Dungeon Core. He then turned back towards Jimbo-no. With tears? In his eyes? His half roasted mushroom hat dripped from the heat. Liquid fungal gunk dripped from the front of the hat brim, landed precisely on both of his lacrimal bones, then dribbled down his cheek bones. The lingering residue gave Jimbo-no the impression that the other skeleton had been crying. It was honestly fitting. ¡°My babies.¡± Was all he said. ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure they¡¯re¡­ fine. Bees like fire, right?¡± Jimbo-no asked. "They get all sleepy with smoke." ¡°Not usually.¡± Jimbo-no coughed and cleared his throat. ¡°Regardless. We can¡¯t stay here. The mission is kablooey. Mardy might be going to get help, but Sarge is dead. We won¡¯t be able to do much without both of them.¡± ¡°And Spinemess,¡± Jellybee added. ¡°Sure, I guess. Speaking of devils, where is he?¡± Jellybee shrugged. ¡°Well, that¡¯s just great.¡± Either Spinemess recovered faster than both of them and wandered off with a broken hip bone. Or the Merriweather Dungeon had taken him. Along with Sarge¡¯s body. There was nothing left of either of them. That was a bad sign. ¡°We¡¯ve gotta skedaddle,¡± Jimbo-no said firmly. He tried to pull the sad boy up to a standing position. Instead, the sad boy became dead weight in his grasp. Jellybee whined, ¡°No, I can¡¯t leave without my babies. Let me wallow in misery!¡± He dropped Jellybee like a rock. ¡°Fine. Stay here next to that creepy dungeon core,¡± Jimbo-no replied. As if the dungeon had heard them, the Core glowed ominously bright as yellowish, orange smoke drifted into it from the corner of the room where a pile of dirt sat. That dirt wasn¡¯t there before, was it? A moment later, Jimbo-no heard a frantic buzzing noise followed by a bee''s head popping out of the shallow dirt mount. It scrambled out and crawled towards Jellybee. This was the first time Jimbo-no had seen this particular bee, but he knew exactly what it was based on its size. . This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. ¡°Queen! You¡¯re alive!¡± Jellybee exclaimed. He leapt to his feet. The poor creature¡¯s antennae and wings very much singed, but it indeed was still alive. And with that, maybe the rest of the colony would survive too. ¡°What a sturdy bugger. Anyways. Glad that that''s settled. Let¡¯s get out of here.¡± He began to march towards the front door. Then that sinking feeling deep in his bones flared up again: a powerful, dull ache in every part of his body accompanied by overwhelming exhaustion. He struggled against it, vainly, trying to trudge on. But it was no use. He was just so damn tired. He wouldn''t make it to the Dungeon exit in time. Defeated, he gingerly took seat on the floor, lest he dangerously fall into a puddle of his own bone chips. It had them. He couldn''t believe it. An anti-undead aura. What kind of trap was this? The gears in his hollow noggin spun in overdrive. He mentally fought back against the lethargy and tried shutting off the pain. There was no way an adventurer would weaponize an actual dungeon against a couple of skeletons. Especially in their own home.That would be suicidal. Unless, of course, they were planning on dying anyways. Was the Dungeon Core the homeowner? It wasn¡¯t impossible. Especially if it was¡­ An elderly, feminine voice interrupted his thoughts. ¡°Excuse me, my dears, but before you go, would you be willing to help out this old bag of bones?¡± Oh fuck, he thought. The dungeon is sapient. **** Bonny Kettleflar adjusted her wide brimmed conical hat for the fourth time in the last half an hour. She was fully aware that her choice in clothing made her stand out as a Pyre Witch and drew whispered attention. The northern rot rains never swept this far south, but life saving habits were hard to break. From where she just left, one never left shelter without an umbrella, hooded cloak, or an oversized hat. Besides, Poppymill was a small countryside town anyways. Bonny would stand out anyways, regardless of who she was or how she dressed. Why not embrace it? It wasn¡¯t everyday that a young woman took up residence on her own in search of new beginnings. She sighed. Then the corners of her lips twisted into a smile. She breathed deeply in the fresh air as the ferry rocked gently on the river. The air felt so clean. The whole two week long trip after she left the Necropolis had felt so clean. No marching armies or mass graves. No blasted landscapes or war torn settlements. No Dungeons erupting from the earth behind enemy lines. Not a monument, obelisk, or mausoleum in sight. Just countrysides, rivers, meadows, and woodland as far as her eyes could see. Interspersed between all that was the occasional small city, military fort, or trading post. None of them egregious enough in size to impede upon the natural landscape views. She could get used to this. The first signs of Poppymill were the occasional cottage or cabin along the banks, before the whole town popped into view around the riverbend. The town center nestled up against the Gemstone River, whereas the many quaint homes and namesake windmills perched upon the foothills leading up to the base of the mountain range overlooking the town. On the other side of the river, far, far in the distance, was another mountain range. And everything in the valley between was an abundance of countryside broken up rivers and lakes. This was the perfect place to start over. She spotted her uncle on the embankment and excitedly waved to him. The watercraft sidled up to the pier. And a bell rang, announcing her stop. She patted her coat pocket once again to make sure she still had the deed and the letter. And of course, they were still there. Broken wax seal and all. Just like they had been there ten minutes earlier when she last checked. Bonny hopped off her two luggage cases that she was using as a seat, then slowly hauled them across the deck. She struggled down the gangway, softly cursing herself for their unwieldiness. All things considered, she had packed lightly. These supplies were half the reason she was here. Her uncle, Brill Fletcher, greeted her in his customary way. By barely greeting her at all. He didn¡¯t need to do otherwise. He was roughly the size of a small tree. Which just made sense. He was a woodsman through and through: beady-eyed, burly, and bearded. ¡°Hello, Uncle. Thank you so much for meeting me out here.¡± Brill grunted. ¡°Well, yeah, you asked.¡± Then casually picked up both her suitcases under one arm. She was sure that her uncle bench pressed tree trunks. He had to. There was no way his chest got so massive just from pushups and hauling lumber. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you. How have you been, Uncle Brill?¡± He stroked his red beard for a moment, clearly in thought. She waited on him patiently, eyebrow raised. Finally he said, ¡°I¡¯ve been well. I suppose. How have you been, Bon?¡± The way he asked made it sound like a genuine question, rather than a customary greeting response. The way he said her old name was also awkward. ¡°Ha. Nervous as all the hells.¡± She had been internally screaming the entire trip. ¡°But I¡¯m happy to be here! Oh, and please, it¡¯s Bonny now. Bon is the old me.¡± She chuckled nervously. She felt foolish saying it. He looked her up and down. ¡°You¡¯ve gotten bigger,¡± he stated. ¡°Bonny.¡± ¡°And you¡¯re still the same. It has been, what, seven years? I grew up.¡± A whole twenty-two years old. She already felt old. Too old. ¡°Hm. Suppose you have. Ready?¡± He didn¡¯t make a lot of eye contact when talking. Something she strangely appreciated. Brill also never quite fit in with the locals, despite being the local woodsman and woodworker for countless years in Poppymill, It was proof that she and him were related. ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s go see the cottage.¡± They passed quickly through the town without stopping and began the long trek to the outskirts of town. Chapter 7: Powering Up Chapter 7: Powering Up Well, that changes things. I wasn¡¯t sure how to react to the dead rising before me. But I found myself strangely relieved. I had one problem solved, hiding bodies, and now a whole lot more questions. I read over the Soul Stroll Skill once more. I couldn¡¯t talk to the two unexpected guests in the living room right away. No siree. I had to first try to test out my new Soul Stroll ability. They seemed like fine enough chaps, but I wanted to make sure I wouldn¡¯t spook them into running away. The description made it clear that I could intentionally use this ability to scare people. And that just wouldn¡¯t do. Pappy had ingrained in me as a young lass on how to make a good impression. Of course, he hadn¡¯t taught me about eavesdropping. That one I picked up on my own. ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure they¡¯re¡­ fine. Bees like fire, right?¡± One asked. ¡°Not usually,¡± the other responded. It seemed very distraught. I pitied the poor creature with the strangely fashionable hat. What an odd conversation. I was starting to suspect these weren¡¯t the original homeowners. Especially after the former, the one with the pirate patch, mentioned something very particular that caught my attention. ¡°Fine. Stay here next to that creepy Dungeon Core.¡± Ah, lucky me. These two happened to know something about what I was. Ain¡¯t that the bees knees. Speaking of which¡­ Ah, yes. It was muffled and faint. Yet buzzing up a storm as it tried to escape.. I had completely forgotten! There was that queen bee under the dirt pile still. Whoopsie. Must have slipped my mind with all the ruckus going on¡­ I¡¯ll get you out in a jiffy, little fella. I focused all of my attention upon Mana Dusting up the pile. Wow, that was quick. My skill levels were already paying off. I activated Soul Stroll ability from my Skill Menu. Just like before when trying to summon an object, like dirt, my avatar appeared as a floating translucent blue form before me.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. The ghost form certainly looked like my past self. Or at least it was my past self just before I shuffled off my mortal coil in the hospital bed. Same old wrinkles and moles and all. I concluded I wouldn''t scare them off these visitors looking like this. Neither of the skeletons reacted to the image. Even when I waved out and about in the air in front of their faces. And the ghostly form of myself was frozen in time with a soft, kindly expression. This isn¡¯t exactly what I expected. Oh no. Why wasn¡¯t this working? And even worse: saving the bee had the opposite effect I was looking for. The skeleton that mentioned I was a Dungeon Core was even more determined to leave still. He began marching towards the door, out of the range of my Weary Bones aura. I was going to lose this opportunity! I did the only thing I could think of. I selected my next Power. I toggled it on. The sailor skeleton trudged on for a moment. Then slowly slumped to the ground, groaning. The second, Jellybee, I presumed, instead stood up slowly. His bones rattled menacingly as he took a few tentative steps towards my Core. I felt a spike of fear. His chest cavity smoldered with gray smoke and his eyes blazed with a bright green intensity. He took another step. Then another. Was I in danger? Could this Jellybee resist my upgraded Aura? But no. He walked over to the queen bee, gradually sat back upon the ground, picked up the traumatized bug, and then cradled her into his chest cavity. Jellybee then laid down, curled up in the fetal position, and¡­ And was that skeleton crying? Yes, indeed. The poor dear was sobbing. I wanted to reach out and give him a rub on the back. Err, spine. Maybe just a pat on the head would do instead? And maybe I still could. I finally remembered I had to actually place my avatar into the world using mana. I summoned forth my spirit into the living room. ¡°Excuse me, my dears, but before you go, would you be willing to help out this old bag of bones?¡± For a long moment, neither of them spoke. I briefly wondered if they heard me. ¡°Uh, hello? Is this thing on? Testing.¡± The skeleton with an eye patch responded while staring up at the ceiling while lying on his back. ¡°We hear you, Lady. Turn it off.¡± I feigned elderly ignorance. ¡°What was that? Turn what off?¡± ¡°You damn well know!¡± He groaned. ¡°Your Aura. Turn. It. Off.¡± ¡°Oh! Silly me. I will get right on that. Just promise you won¡¯t leave when I do? I get mightily lonely at this age.¡± ¡°I ain¡¯t promisin¡¯-¡± Jellybee interrupted. ¡°We promise! Just make it stop.¡± I toggled off the Brittle Bones Aura. And then the air steward lady spoke up. Cheery as always, declared in bold letters: Jimbo-no shouted, ¡°Oh for fucks sake, Jellybee!¡± Chapter 8: The Golden Standard Chapter 8: The Golden Standard ¡°Oh, why, thank you. Jellybee, was it? There, there. Achy bones are simply the burden we must all bear with age. You get used to it eventually.¡± I tried to place a comforting hand upon the poor soul. Instead, my ghostly hand passed right through the skeleton. That was disappointing, but not unexpected. The description did warn me that I couldn¡¯t interact with the environment directly. Jellybee seemed to appreciate the motion regardless, since he stifled his sniffles. I turned. ¡°And I presume you are Jimbo-no?¡± I knew Jimbo-no¡¯s name now because whenever I looked in their direction I saw their names subtitled over their heads, in bold lettering. Along with their classes and levels. ¡°I have to say, you¡¯re all a sight for sore eyes!¡± ¡°Aye. That¡¯s right. And you¡¯re not. You''re a talking Dungeon Core. The worst kind,¡± he replied. Jellybee interjected. ¡°Stop being rude, Jimbo-no! She could make us old again!¡± ¡°Oh, I won¡¯t do that. Without reason.¡± Jimbo-no sighed. ¡°Fine. What do you want with us?¡± I huffed at his tone. ¡°I have questions. A whole buttload of them.¡± Jellybee hummed in thought. ¡°Hmmm¡­ that sounds like a lot, but I can try?¡± Jimbo-no sat up straight and pointed. ¡°No. Jellybee! Shut yer trap. That damn mouth of yours already set everything on fire earlier. And now look where it got us. I¡¯ll be the one that talks.¡± Well, that was one question I had that was now answered. I raised an eyebrow. ¡°You lot set fire to this cottage?¡± ¡°Not on purpose!¡± Jellybee exclaimed. ¡°Jellybee, shut yer trap.¡± I could tell I wasn¡¯t going to get very far with this man. I folded my arms over my chest. ¡°Who¡¯s your supervisor? I want to speak to him instead.¡± Speaking to the supervisor was the only way to get things done sometimes. Jimbo-no rattled with laughter. ¡°Ha! That¡¯s gold. Yeah, no, he¡¯s dead. You landed on him, remember?¡± I, in fact, did not. I was too plum tuckered out from sprouting a tree. But that, unfortunately, made enough sense for me to believe him. That was another question answered. ¡°Fine. Who¡¯s your next commanding officer? Spinemess?¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°Ha!¡± He paused. He shot Jellybee a smoldering look. ¡°Actually, yeah. He is. But good luck talking to him right now. No idea where he ran off too.¡± He shrugged. I, also unfortunately, had an idea as to who Spinemess was and where he was. And I also knew he wasn¡¯t in much shape to talk shop with me. As far as I knew, he was still tangled up in his own limbs at the bottom of the stairs. For some reason my vision didn¡¯t reach that far down though. ¡°Well, fiddlesticks.¡± I sighed. ¡°I guess you two will have to do.¡± ¡°Look, lady, I¡¯d love to pass you off to some other poor sap. But you¡¯re stuck with us. We don¡¯t have time for questions. Let us go. Or else we¡¯re all in deep shit.¡± ¡°What do you mean? Surely they wouldn¡¯t send a little old, innocent lady like me to jail?¡± I placed a hand over my breast and acted aghast. Jimbo-no rattled with laughter once more. I was starting to hate that noise. ¡°Jail? Lady, nobody sends Dungeon Cores to jail! That¡¯d be like sending sailors to the whorehouse for stealing extra grog rations. If any others find us here, we¡¯re dead. Dead dead. Hells, if it wasn¡¯t for that Aura of yours we would have smashed you to pieces ourselves by now.¡± I slowly stalked over to the sailor man and jabbed a pointed index finger through his rib cage. ¡°No more beating around the bush. Talk. Or else I¡¯m turning it back on. Why are we dead?¡± Jimbo-no raised his hands defensively. ¡°Okay, okay. Let me spell it out for you. You¡¯re a Dungeon Core, right? It¡¯s an adventurer¡¯s job to destroy dungeons. And you just crash landed in the house of the strongest adventurer around these parts. And we just alerted them with a smoke signal.¡± ¡°And I¡¯m a skeleton!¡± Jellybee said. ¡°Oh dear¡­ That doesn¡¯t sound pleasant. I think I need a seat.¡° I reflexively sat in the smoldering Davenport next to Jellybee who was sitting with his knees propped up in front of his chest and his arms around his legs. Surprisingly, my ghostly form didn¡¯t sink through the couch like I expected it might. ¡°You have to help me.¡± I shook my head. ¡°No, you will help me. Your little club got me into this mess too.¡± "Look, granny. I ain''t some system mandated tour guide fairy. Even if the system says I¡¯m a minion, it doesn''t mean I have to follow your orders. I don¡¯t just work for free. I have standards!" Jimbo-no protested. ¡°Yeah!¡± Jellybee piped in. ¡°Yeah, I have standards too!¡± ¡°No, he doesn¡¯t.¡± Jimbo-no said. ¡°Yeah!¡± Jellybee agreed. Jimbo-no and I both looked at him. ¡°Yeah!¡± Jellybee repeated. ¡°Anyways. My standards are the gold kind. And I¡¯ll need heaps of it to help haul your ass out of the trouble you¡¯re in. And believe me, you¡¯re in for some trouble. Even if we survive mommy coming home. Dungeon Cores don¡¯t survive on the surface for long¡± I unfortunately didn¡¯t have heaps of gold. For the first time in ages I had left my purse at home. But they didn¡¯t need to know that. I thought about it for a moment. ¡°Okay. Tell you what. I¡¯ll make you rich. Just tell me everything you know about dungeons. You¡¯re all going to help me rebuild this cottage.¡± Jimbo-no¡¯s singular eye flashed green. ¡°Lady, you¡¯re insane. You¡¯re going to get yourself killed. You should be mounting a defense. Or digging yourself a tunnel straight to the center of the world. Not playing house.¡± He sighed. ¡°But fine. It¡¯s a deal. This can¡¯t get any worse. What do you want to know?¡± I smiled. ¡°Alright. So. This isn¡¯t Earth, is it? What planet are we on? And what¡¯s a dungeon? And what do you know about carpentry?¡± ¡°Oh boy,¡± Jellybee said. ¡°We¡¯re dead.¡± Chapter 9: Bedknob and Broomstick Chapter 9: Bedknob and Broomstick Halfway up the winding roads of Poppymill, between the crossroads of two lanes, Bonny and Brill were approached by the local mailman. ¡°Hey, Brill! Good morning! Can you, uh, lend me a hand?¡± An older, dark skinned man approached carrying a large leather side satchel. He was tall, with a clean cut beard and half moon dimples. They came to a stop in front of the big windmills. It creaked gently in the soft breeze. ¡°Mornin¡¯, Waye. Can¡¯t.¡± Brill replied. ¡°I¡¯m taking my niece up to my sister¡¯s place.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s mighty convenient!¡± Waye grinned brightly and chuckled. ¡°That saves me a trip. I was also on my way up there. I saw some smoke rising and was going to check it out.¡± ¡°There was smoke?¡± Bonny asked. Her voice was quiet. A million fears ran through her head. Waye gave her a nod and a reassuring smile. ¡°Yeah, I figured it was Ms. Tanner up to her usual antics. The smoke stopped soon after.¡± Brill shook his head. ¡°Not her,¡± he said. Could be goblins. They don''t come by here often these days, but occasionally they creep up and set camp in the woods nearby.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I thought. But then this little fella came zipping on by like a shadowy lightning bolt and yowling up a storm.¡± Waye opened up his satchel, revealing a black cat nestled up on top of letters and parcels. Its eyes were all wide and its hair was all spiked up. ¡°Care to deliver this package for me?¡± ¡°Bedknob, huh. Wonder what he''s all worked up about,¡± Brill mused. ¡°Ohh, Bedknob! You poor thing! You¡¯re okay, buddy. It¡¯s fine.¡± Bonny gingery reached out a hand slowly. When Bedknob didn¡¯t react negatively, she picked him up and cradled him in her arms. He was trembling. ¡°One of your sisters?¡± She asked Brill. ¡°One of her strays. Just like every cat in this town. Yeah. We¡¯ll take Bedknob back home.¡± ¡°Thanks. And Brill?¡± He eyed the other man intensely. ¡°Stay safe. Run at the first sign of trouble. Even if your sister is the cause of it.¡± Brill smiled. ¡°She usually is.¡± Waye held out his hand to the young woman. ¡°And welcome to Poppymill, Miss?¡± ¡°Bonny,¡± she answered. She held out a hand. Bedknob continued to stay curled in the nook of her other arm. His trembling had subsided. ¡°Pleasure to meet you, Bonny. Thanks for letting me put you to work so soon.¡± He nodded to Brill. ¡°Good luck and thanks again!¡± ¡°We have to hurry,¡± Bonny pressed. She had to know. Had her future just gone up in flames? ***** ¡°Okay. So not Earth.¡± I confirmed. ¡°Sure. Whatever that is,¡± Jimbo-no replied. ¡°And neither of you know carpentry.¡± ¡°Only if ya want to build a boat.¡± Jellybee raised a hand. "Do broomsticks count? I can make those." I sighed. Then winked out of existence. Dagnabbit. Looks like I hit my time limit on my Soul Stroll. Jimbo-no and Jellybee stared at where my ghost form had just been, then looked at each other before they shrugged in unison. I used some more mana and focused my attention to Soul Stroll my avatar back into place. ¡°My apologies. Still learning how to work this darn thing. Please continue, Mr. Jimbo-no. Tell me about these oubliettes I¡¯m supposed to make.¡± Jimbo-no "Dungeons. Oubliette Cores are a whole ¡®nother beast. But yeah, I have to admittedly say we aren¡¯t gonna be much help for ya, lady. I only know the bare-bones about Dungeon Cores. Just because I was reborn in a dungeon, doesn''t make me an expert." ¡°Indulge me with what you do know. I¡¯ve got all day.¡± ¡°Ya really don¡¯t, though. We should be battenin'' up the hatches and barricading up the doors right this moment. Setting up traps in the garden bed. Spawning goblins into the cupboards. Placing shiny loot away from your Core. The usual.¡±The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°No. We¡¯re fixing the house. Make yourself useful and tell me about Dungeons. No more idle hands, minion.¡± I crossed my arms for emphasis, tapped my foot, and gave him my most stern look. Jimbo-no ground his teeth. Then stomped a foot. The floorboard beneath him splintered. ¡°Fine. Is there a hammer ''round here?¡± ¡°Let me take a gander.¡± I closed my eyes and focused most of my attention upon surveying the dungeon. My avatar became even more translucent and started to fuzz like blue TV static. ¡°Why yes-sir, tool shed out back.¡± Jimbo-no fetched it, returned to the living room, and then pried one of the burnt boards out from floor. ¡°Here. Eat this board.¡± He dropped it unceremoniously upon my core in the hearth. ¡°Make sure to eat the nails.¡± He went to work on another one. I gave him an odd look. Curious. I obliged. It was nice to know I could Soul Stroll and Mana Dust at the same time. That would certainly help keep me topped off on my Mana so I could continue to converse with my new minions. I just had to keep half a mind on controlling my avatar and the other half focused on Mana Dusting away whatever was thrown at me. It was quite slower than putting all my attention into one skill at once, but I liked being able to multitask. It felt no different than gossiping while folding laundry. Which quickly paid dividends. I smiled at the notifications. Compared to Mana Dusting and Gardencraft, Soul Stroll took significantly more practice to level up. ¡°Okay. Let¡¯s start with the basics. Most dungeons are well, uh, how would you describe them, Jellybee?¡± Jimbo-no asked. At some point Jellybee during the conversation had found a large push broom and had been sweeping up ashes. It appeared Jellybee knew how to keep his hands busy without prodding. I admired that in the lad. Even if he seemed to have a few screws loose. ¡°Dungeons are dungeons,¡± Jellybee said. He left through the front door, pushing ash in front of him. ¡°Fair enough. Yeah. Dungeons literally are prisons. But for monsters. For when execution or a normal night in the slammer won''t do.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t follow,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯re getting there. It¡¯s like this: When some country has a weird guy they¡¯d rather not see in public again, they might throw him into an underground pit. Sometimes that weird guy ends up being a magical nerd that got bullied too much in magic school. But since he picked up some neat party tricks the country doesn¡¯t want to actually kill him. So they just let him rot in a cell. And he, understandably, gets kind of upset about that. So years later he opens up a portal to demonville. And the demons say, ¡®Hey, this new crib is pretty swell! Let¡¯s throw some parties!¡¯¡¯ Next thing ya know, the whole neighborhood has gone to hell in a handbasket. Demon gentrification and all that. And not the suburban mom kind, either." "Still not following. But that sounds¡­¡± I wanted to be careful with my words. I wasn¡¯t sure what race these skeletons were, but I didn¡¯t want to accidentally come off as some ignorant racist. I was ignorant enough as it was already. ¡°Demons are bad, right? They¡¯re bad where I come from.¡± I finished Mana Dusting up the wood of the floorboard easily enough with my Skill level. Yet the nails put up far more resistance. Something about the metal density made them take longer to work through. "Oh, fer sure! Demons are the absolute worst. But what can ya do? Demon shit happens, ya know? Most people don''t like shit happening, so they try to crash the party. Obviously, they end up dying in vain glory and they leave their magic shit behind. Which just attracts more demons and parties and shit. Ya know?¡± "I, uh, no... no I -." "Great. Now that you¡¯re done eating that, go into your system menus. Ya should have some sort of ability related to creating objects. Make a new floorboard. And nails. Lots of nails. Just watch your Mana meter.¡± He threw another floorboard onto me. Followed by a brick. And a spoon. ¡°Eat all these too.¡± I followed his instructions. My avatar took on a dazed appearance - mouth half open and squinted eyes reflecting off my glasses. Not too different to how I looked whenever I tried browsing Netflix. He continued without waiting for a response. ¡°So, on the other hand, Dungeon Cores, such as yourself, build their own Dungeons around them. That cuts out a whole lotta middle men. They don''t need nerdy wizardly grudges with petty revenge plans spanning decades. They don''t need the souls of the damned to get fed up with property taxes or to wait on monsters to emerge from natural ecosystems, like hibernating bears. They just fuck shit up on their own. At least, until someone comes along to take the Core away from the dungeon or break it." I was struggling to follow the metaphor, but I was starting to get the gist of it. "So why would someone want to..." I paused. "I must have misheard you. My ears aren¡¯t what they used to be. Did you just say bears are monsters?" "Of course they are, lady. Most animals don¡¯t wander the woods randomly attacking everything they come across. Or hide in ambush for years at a time. Were ya born yesterday?" I was about to protest, but then I realized I was reborn yesterday. Or today, actually? I had originally woken up where the sun don¡¯t shine. So it was hard to tell time. I decided to keep all that to myself though. I continued. "Okay, aside from the bears, I think I¡¯m picking up what you¡¯re putting down. Ha. Literally!¡± It took a lot of scrolling, but I found it in my menu screen finally. A floorboard. It looked just like what I had Mana Dusted earlier. This time without the extra crispy flavoring. I clicked on it, moved the floating blueprint into place back on the ground, and then confirmed my choice. There was a rush of air. Then the floorboard popped into existence. Like it grew up from the ground. So why would someone want to take me? My Core, I mean." "Ain''t it obvious? Did ya see what ya just did? But not just that. If ya take away the core, ya still have a dungeon afterwards. That''s a lot of power. And cheap labor. Ya ever pay contractors for renovations? Sheesh! You''re lucky if they don''t make the job site worse before they split with your dough." "And destroy?" I asked. I planted another two floorboards. Along with some nails. Jimbo-no hammered them each into place. Jellybee returned to push another ash pile off the front porch. ¡°Dungeons build up physical defense around them for a reason. Their Cores can imprison souls. That kind of whole lotta power is a whole lotta danger. It''s intoxicating and tempting. Believe me, toots, I''d know." "You would, would you?" "Yeah, ya ain''t the first cougar that''s stuck me in their tree." The skeleton winked by flickering his eye socket flame. I paused for a moment, considering what he said. Then it clicked. Thankfully, I resisted my initial urge to grow a tree under his ass and launch him into the sky. Because Jellybee ran back inside, waving his broomstick and shouting. ¡°Mommy¡¯s home! Aaaand she brought friends!¡± Chapter 10: Uninvited Guests Over For Dinner Chapter 10: Uninvited Guests Over For Dinner Oh, fiddlesticks. We weren¡¯t ready This was worse than having guests showing up several hours early to a dinner party! ¡°How many?¡± I asked. ¡°Three. Wait! Two and a half. One of them is a big guy. And the other is a cat.¡± Jellybee asked. ¡°What do we do? I¡¯m not trained on how to fight a cat!" ¡°We stick to the plan.¡± I replied. ¡°We¡¯ll just explain this was all a big misunderstanding.¡± ¡°Great idea!¡± Jimbo-no said. ¡°We¡¯ll just say, ¡®Sorry we set your house on fire and turned it into a dungeon. We replaced some of the floorboards. Hope you like it.¡¯ I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be very understanding.¡± ¡°Exactly.¡± I said. Then my ghost form disappeared. This time on purpose though. I figured focusing less on Soul Stroll would give me some extra oomph to think. I was also quite aware now of my potential time limit I had for walkies. I didn¡¯t want to time cut out mid conversation, like a video call accidentally getting hung up. Jimbo-no facepalmed and groaned. Unfortunately, I couldn¡¯t yet see what Jellybee had reported. My sight became extremely limited and ethereal beyond the range of the house and the backyard up to the tree I planted. But while I couldn¡¯t see them approaching, I could feel it. And I could hear them, though not clearly. Their distant voices - sound waves carried through the air - bounced against the outer walls of the cottage. My Core shimmered in anticipation. It tugged at my human emotions. This was a natural reaction to this new form of mine. I felt an uncanny mix of excitement and fear, like walking onto stage before a crowd. Or bracing myself before walking down a dark alley. But it was more than that. There was a small tug behind all of that. A feeling of ¡­ hunger. Greedy, violent hunger. It was a feeling I hadn¡¯t really noticed creeping up slowly in the background this whole time¨Cthe events of the day had all been too distracting¨Cbut now that it was here it was hard to ignore. I knew this hunger wasn¡¯t mine. It was an inhuman instinct. One that told me that I had to build for the sake of destruction. It urged me to use my minions to kill. I rejected the instinct. Squashed it down. I had to be logical. Jimbo-no had ultimately been right. Not making traps was a mistake. But it was too late. I had no traps. And the only way I had of defending myself would cripple my minions. I had to play my cards right. I heard their voices clearly now. They were close. ¡°Ouch, Bedknob. Stop squirming,¡± I heard a woman say. ¡°Wait, Bedknob! It¡¯s not safe!¡± She let out a groan of frustration. A moment later a bolt of fuzzy black lightning jolted through my vision. It skimmed right by the porch, darted around the side of the cottage and through the garden. The lightning bolt came to a sudden stop in the backyard and cautiously sniffed at the air. The bolt of lightning was a cat. An ordinary black cat. Then I heard¡­ thunder? Jiminy crickets! Did this cat just briefly break the sound barrier? Then, casually, it clambered up one of the trees shading the home, sauntered across a branch, and leapt onto the thatched roof. It sniffed around again, kneaded in place, let out a soft mewling yawn, and then curled up for a nap. Yup. It was certainly a normal looking cat. But it seemed harmless enough on the roof. As much as my crazy cat lady instincts were in overdrive, I couldn¡¯t afford to get distracted by this fella. I had more pressing matters. I chose to ignore it for now. I Soul Strolled back into the living room. ¡°Time to work some magic,¡± I whispered to my two minions. Jellybee nodded gravely. ¡°I know a spell or two.¡± The woman was close enough now that I could hear her gasp. ¡°Oh Gods. No, it can''t be,¡± she said. ¡°There really was a fire. Look. There''s still smoke!¡± Her voice cracked. ¡°The place is still standing though. The fire must have died out,¡± the man replied. There was a pause. Then his voice took on a quieter tone. But not by much. His deep voice projected easily. ¡°Wait. The door is open. Could be a trap.¡± The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°I don''t care. I didn''t come all this way, just to watch it all burn. I''m going inside.¡± ¡°No. I¡¯ll go first. Check it out. Make sure it''s safe¡± ¡°No. I¡¯ll go first,¡± she repeated. Her words were confident, yet spoken with timidness. ¡°I''m not scared of some goblins or bandits. I can handle them. Besides, I¡¯m technically a higher level than you.¡± The man grunted in response. Interesting. Humans could level up in this world too. This place really did feel like a video game. I wondered if dying here would have one of those arcade ¡°Game Over¡± screens. Could one insert a few coins to restart? Or was this not that kind of game? I assumed the latter. Otherwise everybody wouldn¡¯t be so cautious. The woman gingerly stepped onto the porch. Her eyes grew wide as the system undoubtedly notified her she was entering a dungeon. No, hmm. ¡®Woman¡¯ isn¡¯t the right word. She was barely an adult in my view. This was a young girl. Because, naturally, the first thing I noticed was her dyed seaweed green hair. Along with the gaudy Spirit Halloween-esque witch¡¯s hat upon her head, with a brim so wide that it could barely fit through most doors. I huffed. Kids these days. But my judgment softened as I noticed the dark circles under her eyes, contrasting sharply with her pale complexion. She carried an expression of fear across her frail frame, shaking like a leaf. The poor thing was clearly overstressed and overworked. There was hardly any meat on them bones. She needed more than a couple good meals. I fully admit that I can be quite quick in my tendency to stereotype others. I know I should never judge a book by its cover and all that. But something about this gal didn¡¯t sit right with me with her appearance. This was the owner of the cottage? This dusty, lived in place with good taste in decor? The one that owned all those antiques and old fashioned, handwritten recipe books? The one that was a famed adventurer, hunted by skeleton soldiers? I don¡¯t believe it. Her undead minions were scared of... a Hot Topic Cashier? An older man stepped onto the porch right behind her. He was maybe in his forties? Tall, broad shouldered, and built like a man well accustomed to hard physical labor. He had a short red beard and a traditional farmer''s tan. And admittedly, he was handsome. She turned to him. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. A dungeon?¡± The girl said. ¡°This wasn¡¯t in the letter.¡± The man started to speak, but stopped short when I Soul Strolled out onto the porch to announce myself. ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind the intrusion. I made myself at home while you were gone.¡± The girl¡¯s eyes widened with shock. Then narrowed in anger. Her hands twitched. Green fire crackled within the pupils of her eyes. I felt Mana in the atmosphere shift near my avatar. Like pressure dropping before a storm. My Core immediately recognized this as a threat. It was the equivalent of someone reaching inside their coat pocket to pull out a concealed handgun. But her companion was quicker. Out of thin air, he materialized a giant tree splitting maul into his grip. The axe head was massive¨Ccomically large¨Cat almost half my size. The butt of the axe head was inscribed down its length with a strange language I didn¡¯t recognize and the blade bit undulated like a silver blade of steel. Was that for cutting down Redwoods? Or mountains? ¡°Wait! Wait!¡± I held up my palms. ¡°I¡¯m just an old, lost lady! Can¡¯t we talk about this?¡± ¡°No,¡± the man said. Then winded his ax back. ¡°This is no home for the undead.¡± Before he could swing the weapon, I heard a clamor from inside, followed by Jellybee leaning out the front window and shouting ¡°I cast brick!¡± Jimbo-no and I both screamed in unison. ¡°Jellybee, no!¡± But it was too late. He threw the brick. The man, surprisingly agile for his size, jumped backwards and intercepted the brick with his axe, cleaving it in two with ease One half of the brick went flying. The other half landed on the porch. It was covered in a bright yellow slime mold that coated it like protruding veins. Fascinating. Could every darn person in this world do magic? None of the bricks were like that before. What had he done to it? But I had no time to ask. Because the fungal veins on the brick pulsed once. Twice. Then exploded. The bricks erupted into a violently potent cloud of yellow spores, blasting the girl off the porch and Jellybee back into the house. My avatar fizzed out of existence. Clearly Soul Stroll couldn¡¯t handle taking damage like that. Well, this was not going well. For a moment I saw nothing. They were outside the vision range of my Dungeon again. The girl called out and coughed. ¡°There¡¯s more undead, Uncle!¡± ¡°I know! I saw it! There¡¯s bound to be more! We can¡¯t take them all on.¡± ¡°Uncle, no! THAT''S MY HOUSE!¡± ¡°I¡¯ll fix it later!¡± There was a loud crack, followed by a tremendous groan of wood splitting. Birds screeched. Jimbo-no and Jellybee ducked for cover. There was a thunderous yowl from the roof. Then a tree¨Can actual tree¨Ccrashed through the porch, The tree skidded across the deck. Support beams snapped. The porch roof collapsed. Thatch tumbled everywhere. A log as wide as the front door came to a stop before the entrance. They were blocked in from this side. ¡°We¡¯re leaving. Now.¡± The man said. ¡°NO! Put me down! That¡¯s my home!¡± His footsteps faded in the distance. My Core couldn¡¯t see clearly with all the dust in the air. I Soul Strolled back into the living room for a closer look. Jimbo-no lifted his head up from behind the couch. Jellybee held something in his arms. He seemed perfectly fine. ¡°Well, that went better than expected!¡± Jellybee exclaimed. ¡°And look, we even got a new cat out of it!¡± Chapter 11: Come Hells or High Waters Chapter 11: Come Hells or High Waters The sun had started to set by the time Bonny and Brill made it back to town. Normally this was Bonny¡¯s favorite time of day. When the sky set itself aflame and the planetary rings high above glittered like distant gems. Even Arrowhead, the black moon, had peaked over the mountain behind them. Its obsidian surface reflected the last vestiges of sunlight. Once night fell, the rings would fade into the night. And Arrowhead would pierce the heavens alongside them, becoming a mere shadow flying high in the sky. Instead, this evening the black moon felt like an omen over her shoulder. They hadn''t talked much on the way down. Bonny was at a loss of words. Her thoughts had spiraled. She followed after her uncle in a daze. What was she going to do? Walk. Keep going. Just walk. Don''t think about it. One step after the other, follow along, mindless but alive. Walk. Brill came to a stop. Bonny walked right into him. She rubbed at her nose. It felt like she had just run into a tree trunk. ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± her uncle stated. She looked up at the sign. ¡°Hearth and Tav?¡± She asked. ¡°Is this a tavern?¡± That was fine with her. She could go for some liquor. And by that, she could have gone for a lot of it. He grunted. ¡°Poppymill is too small for a proper tavern. It¡¯s more like, hmm, a diner. But she usually has a few spare rooms upstairs.¡± "So it''s an inn?" Bonny asked. "It''s got rooms." They stepped inside. Pipe smoke filled the air and her nose was assaulted with the heavy smells of tobacco and pig grease. A dog stretched out lazily before a fireplace in the corner. Older men gambled in another corner, roaring with laughter. And a jolly woman walked by carrying ale sloshing about in clay mugs. She gave Brill a wink in passing. "Be right with ya," she called. The place certainly wasn¡¯t Bonny''s usual preference when it came to eateries. But it seemed nice and was a comfort after such a horribly long day. ¡°I¡¯ll get you food. Wait here.¡± Before she could protest, Brill dropped off her luggage at an open table and walked over to the bar. Bonny became acutely aware of the wayward stares from around the room. She took a seat and distracted herself by wiping crumbs off the table with her sleeve. Brill returned. "Here. Food. Eat." Brill set a bowl of porridge before her, then took a seat across from her. ¡°How much was it?¡± ¡°Don''t worry about it.¡± He folded his arms. ¡°Eat.¡± "I''m not hungry." He stared at her with a raised eyebrow. Which she had to admit, was effective. He almost never made eye contact. So she knew it was serious when he did. How bad did she look? She begrudgingly ate. Satisfied, Brill averted his eyes. He pulled a large stick out of his pocket and started whittling it with a small knife. When had he picked up that? Eating, of course, helped. She felt the words rising from her depths. ¡°That ghost. Was that your sister?¡± She asked. Bonny had heard legends of powerful mages overcoming their mortal lives by binding their souls to objects. She wasn''t sure how it worked. But that seemed like exactly the sort of thing Ms. Tanner would be capable of. ¡°No,¡± he replied simply. "Then how can there be a Dungeon in her old home?" She asked. "Dunno. If I had to guess, I¡¯d wager it came from deep within the mountain. Might have found an old mine shaft. Then dug up through the cellar." He cursed as he nicked his thumb with the knife. It looked like a toy in his large hands. Unprompted, he said without looking up, ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± "That means..." Bonny groaned and slumped in her seat. "The Core could be miles away." "Afraid so, lass." ¡°What can we do?" "I''ll notify Waye in the morning. He''ll contact the nearby cities. Put out a quest." He examined his wood carving in the firelight. He frowned. That could open up a whole mess of problems. It could take days before they got a response. The Dungeon had to be surveyed first, since they had hardly any information on it. Depending on that survey, it could go a couple ways. If the Core was old and powerful, then the town would try to destroy it as quickly as possible, or risk a Dungeon Break. Even a few dozen undead could be enough to raze the town of this size to the ground. However, if it really was connected to the old mines, then that would be great for the town. And bad for Bonny. Possibly one of the worst case scenarios for her. Whole towns could spring up around a mine, normally. But a mine that was also a dungeon? That could offer untold riches. Poppymill could see a ¡®gold rush¡¯ of prospecting adventurers and tourism. The town would go out of their way to avoid destroying the Core, just to keep the riches flowing. The cottage would become a glorified tollbooth. And with that, her dream of a quiet life in the countryside would be over even before it began. She slumped farther into the chair, burying herself under her hat. ¡°Heya, good lookin¡¯. All done? Let me grab that bowl for you.¡± Presumably, the ¡®innkeeper¡¯ to this diner asked. Her voice hovered close by. ¡°And who''s this pile of laundry you dragged in?¡± She heard Brill swear under his breath again. ¡°Goodness, Brill, you alright? Need a bandage?¡± Bonny noticed the woman''s pitch went higher when she spoke to her uncle. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Brill said. ¡°You sure, Hun? It''s no bother." "That''s true." "Well, alright. If you insist, big boy.¡± Her flirtatious tone made Bonny want to gag. But she didn''t want to spend energy on any verbal capacity. She was fine with listening in for now. She huffed. "Anyways, who''s this?" ¡°She¡¯s new. Had a hard day. She needs a room. Do you have any?¡± ¡°Sure do. Though I don''t see why you want a room when you live alone... Afraid to let her see your mess?¡± ¡°Oh. No. She''s my niece. I don''t have a spare bed for her.¡± ¡°I¡¯m Bonny. Pleasure to meet you,¡± Bonny said, her voice muffled under her hat. She waved a hand. ¡°Please ignore me dying.¡± The woman laughed heartily. ¡°Well, Bonny, ain¡¯t that a mood. I¡¯m Mally. Mally Tav. Good to hear Fletcher here has another family member to keep him in line. Come find me when you¡¯re ready for your room. And Brill, give a holler if you want another meal on the house for being a good uncle. Or if you want those hands of yours kissed better.¡± Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Bonny stifled a laugh. She lifted her hat up and took a peek at Brill. A puzzled expression had crossed his brow. ¡°No, I¡¯m fine. Really. Thank you.¡± He shook his head and continued whittling. ¡°Suit yourself.¡± After Mally passed out of earshot, Brill muttered, ¡°Strange woman.¡± Oh, Uncle, Bonny thought. You have no idea, do you? Bonny went back to stewing in her thoughts. She was missing something. After a while she heard Brill announce, ¡°It¡¯s done.¡± She sat up. He held out a wooden figurine. "Oh wow! It''s uh... what is it?" Bonny asked. "It''s a feather." "Of course! I see it now." She did not. Clearly, her uncle was not a Savant at the Whittling Skill. Maybe he hadn''t unlocked it yet. She didn''t have enough levels in Scan to know for sure. One didn''t need to have a Skill in order to try using it. With enough practice, time, and willpower most common Skills could be unlocked and one could accumulate levels. Of course, that didn''t always happen. She had been walking around for over twenty years of her life, but she hadn''t unlocked the specific ''Walking'' Skill. Only a select few people truly did. Mally Tav walked by, carrying not one, or two, or even six, but twelve mugs. All stacked in one hand. Clearly using some sort of Balance Skill. She stooped down low, placing her other hand upon his shoulder. ¡°Ooh, Brill. Nice tree.¡± Maybe he actually was a Savant. Just on another level. Maybe one in the negatives? **** Finally. A notification that made sense to me. Good to know I could get experience from scaring off solicitors. I was already an expert at that! If only I had brought my 12 gauge with me! I could call up Avon and level up in no time at all! Nice and simple. Instead, my only defense was two and a half bumbling idiots. And trying to figure out how to navigate this online poorly designed Sears Catalog. Jellybee held the black cat under its arms. He lifted it up to me, proudly displaying the creature¨Clike Simba on top of Pride Rock¨Cits long body and legs dangled. ¡°What should we call him?¡± ¡°He has a name. It¡¯s Bedknob,¡± I stated absently. I had been reading through my Skill screens, trying to figure out what sort of traps I had available. To my disappointment, there wasn¡¯t a specific drop-down menu for traps. Which meant I had to make some the old fashioned way. Which was a shame, really. Even if I could rise to this engineering challenge overnight, I didn¡¯t like the idea of filling the home with spike traps and falling boulders. Where would I put the ¡°Fine China¡± porcelain plate cabinet? Bedknob let out a loud yawn. Jimbo-no reached out to pet Bedknob. The cat hissed fiercely at the other skeleton. Jimbo-no flinched backwards. ¡°I hate everything about this place. Can we leave now? Please?" I ignored his comment. I gave up on the menu screens. There was another matter to address. "Jellybee?¡± I asked. ¡°Would you kindly be a dear and go out back to water the garden? It''s a very important task that I can only trust you with." ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am!¡± He held up the cat¡¯s paw in a mock salute, then left. I turned to Jimbo-no. ¡°He¡¯s, uh, how to say this nicely? Well. He¡¯s a bit of a space cadet.¡± He replied with a flat stare. ¡°I have no idea what the shit that means.¡± ¡°He¡¯s special. Confused, but got the spirit.¡± ¡°Oh, ya mean he¡¯s a fuckin¡¯ dumb-ass? Yeah. Ya sure chose the best head to land on.¡± "Speaking of, I find it interesting that a boy like that would end up on the same squad as you. I don''t suppose you could tell me what your mission was?" He saluted with a rattle. "That''s classified, Ma''am.¡± ¡°Ah. I see.¡± I gave him the look. I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Jimbo-no.¡± ¡°Yes, ma''am?¡± ¡°I can see it in your eyes, even with these old peepers. Don''t lie to me.¡± ¡°Me? Never! Cross my heart. Oh, whoops. Don''t got one.¡± He turned away. ¡°Don''t you make me turn my Aura back on. Jellybee is out of its range. Only you''d suffer. Spit it out!¡± He turned back to me, throwing his hands into the air. ¡°Okay, fine! Ya sadistic old bat. Marrowmar had all the details. Not me, alright? We were supposed to leave a message. The big boys up top wanted her to meet with them. Don''t ask me why. If we failed, our orders were to fetch reinforcements. Then return to leave an even bigger message.¡± ¡°I presume failure means kicking the bucket?¡± He stared flatly again. ¡°Once again, no idea what you¡¯re saying. Oh! You mean keel over, right? Then yes. Failure means keeling over dead dead.¡± I nodded in response. My. Another interesting discovery about the video game system I was navigating. My inflight entertainment options had clearly included language translations, or else I wouldn¡¯t be able to communicate with anyone in this world. But those translations didn¡¯t always work for metaphors. Nor did they work for all written languages, like the lumberjack man¡¯s ax. Nor did they include every species. Otherwise I could have conversed with Bedknob just as well as these skeletons. ¡°Sheesh. What back-country cesspool did you dig your way out of, lady?¡± I tapped my chin. ¡°This mission of yours seems very important. Except, I can''t help but notice, dear minion of mine, that you didn''t give our visitor a message. In fact, Jellybee attacked her on sight. Now why is that?¡± The skeleton sailor shrugged. ¡°We just covered this.¡± I continued to tap my chin. "You both seem unusually calm considering the circumstances. I¡¯m presuming some of you weren''t expected to survive your mission?¡± ¡°Hells no! Jellybee wasn¡¯t expected to survive the trip here. You''re less senile than ya look, lady.¡± I forced a smile. ¡°And that wasn''t the adventurer you were looking for, was it?" I asked. "No. No, it was not." ¡°Is this¡­ Is this even the right house?¡± The man shrugged. ¡°Which means¡­oh lordy. Your mission failed before it began.¡± I bowed my head and rubbed my temples. Could Dungeon Cores get headaches? It felt like I could easily develop one with this enlightened company I kept. ¡°Eeyup. By mornin¡¯ the entire town will know there¡¯s a dungeon here. And any day now a whole fuckin¡¯ army could be on its way to burn down the whole damn town. Come Hells or high waters, we''re double, triple fucked.¡± ***** Bonny laid down upon the bed with a loud creak. The downy pillow poked at the back of her head. She was exhausted. Yet sleep wouldn''t come. She flipped the pillow over. She stared up at the ceiling. She fluffed the pillow. Her head swam. She fluffed it again. Her eyes were heavy. Yet they wouldn''t shut. She flipped it again. She tried every trick in the book to fall asleep. She fluffed it again. Bonny stood up, walked over to the wall, and placed a hand upon the wall. Ah, yes, here it is, she thought. That Leyline I Scanned earlier. It¡¯ll do. Her eyes flared bright green as she activated her Control Paste Skill. She tapped into her Mana, drew from her past encounters, and then Pasted a Link to the Farwide upon the wall. It appeared at first as a small piece of paper, then rapidly unfolded itself into the shape of a small door. The Link was not much bigger than a cabinet. She opened it. To find all the Hells staring back at her. The souls of the damned clamored for her Command Prompt. They churned in anticipation. Ever so demanding. She threw the pillow inside the FarWide. ¡°¡± Bonny watched just long enough to see them tear into the pillow case with reckless abandon. An explosion of feathers joined the endless cacophony of sights and sounds. She closed the door, then Control Cut the Link as soon as possible. The cabinet faded out of existence, leaving no trace. The wall returned to being just a wall. She laid back, her head hit the mattress. That was better. Now she could think. The cottage hadn¡¯t been burned down. It was still standing. As she recalled, the wooden porch was perfectly intact before Brill threw a damn tree at it. She thought back. There was ash on the porch steps. She had left footsteps in it. Weren¡¯t there bristle marks in the ash? Somebody had taken a broom¨Cbefore the smoke even cleared¨Cto sweep the porch? Why? That puzzled her. For a dungeon, wasn¡¯t that ¡­. oddly domestic? Of course, she had long thought it was odd that the undead spirit had taken the form of an elderly woman. Why not choose a more intimidating form? Or one more suited for combat? Instead, the undead spirit asked to speak with them. Which could have been a trick, of course. Unless¡­ No, it had to be a trick. But even if it was, so what? Tricks needed to be planned out with some degree of logic. They needed forethought. Didn''t that mean she could possibly reason with the Dungeon? Bonny could go back ¡­ and? What? Ask the Dungeon to invite her inside her own home for tea and biscuits? Show the Dungeon the deed and tell it to stop squatting in her home? It was a stupid idea. But one that haunted her thoughts, even as she drifted off from exhaustion. Chapter 12: Bee and Knee Royal Jelly Chapter 12: Bee and Knee Royal Jelly It was late evening when Jellybee emerged into the garden. Granny Ethel had asked him to water the flowers and so he shall. With vigor! In the tool-shed he found a watering can. Along with an old rag and had stuffed it within his rib-cage. Queenie promptly curled up within the rag, resting from her injuries caused by the fire. She had earned a good long micro nap. Lots of torpor would do her good. He pumped water from the backyard well and set about watering the garden as sunlight began to slip away beyond the valley. He started to sing an old sailor shanty he heard Jimbo-no sing once. The tune was nice, even if he could only remember two or three words per line of lyric. Jellybee was honestly grateful for the distraction. His heart felt heavy. Yet his chest felt so light when compared to before this mission. He had carried this colony for a while now. He had nurtured it. Protected it. At least, until he had failed to do so. That made his bones ache more than anything Granny could have dished out. But on the other hand, he felt gratitude towards Granny for saving Queenie. Without her, the whole hive would have been wiped out. But Jellybee was also well aware that the hive might not survive regardless. Queen bees could not survive alone. Queenie needed not only a safe place to lay new eggs, but hive cells to help the eggs pupate and grow. She needed attendants to ensure that she would be fed, protected, and cared for. She needed a full colony. Jellybee could not do all that. Jellybee was, after all, not a bee. Jellybee was a minion to a Dungeon. One that could be attacked at any moment because he failed his mission and failed to kill the invaders. If Jellybee died, Queenie would certainly die. Jellybee reached the end of the song. He sighed and scratched his mushroom hat, deep in thought. With a start he realized he had poured all of the water in the can out on a small gravestone set before a blooming crab-apple tree. Whoops. He hoped Tiptap, whoever that was, would enjoy their shower. They certainly had some lovely flowers around their grave marker. He went back to the well for another ladle.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Then, he spotted it in the dying light. It was one little speck that flew by over his head. It was a bee, covered in pollen. Either this bee was late to dinner or there was a hive within a short distance to the garden. Bees, being diurnal, wouldn¡¯t risk a long flight home in the dark without enough guiding light. He watched its flight path carefully. It crawled into the cavity of a large oak tree. Jellybee had an idea. It was risky, stupid, and could cost him dearly. But what choice did he have? Ten minutes later, Jellybee was up in the tree¨Creaching directly into its hollowed trunk¨Cto give the bee nest a new gift. The gift, of course, was friendship. Or death. Probably death. He had scrounged up a glass bottle from the kitchen pantry. He also had found a half burnt cork and some burnt honey. Using a bit of mushroom (and elbow) grease, he fashioned a candy plug stopper for the bottleneck. The glass had cracked from the heat. Which was fine. It would work well enough. He hoped. Softly and carefully, he set the corked "candy" bottle inside the hive. Thankfully, at this time of the day the hive would be at their lowest activity levels. Or else he would have been in trouble. Inside the bottle, Queenie quietly buzzed. Drones from the tree trunk hive had already began to crawl over the glass, inspecting the occupant. In several days, after Queenie¡¯s pheromones had permeated the hive, he''d return to check to make sure the cork had been properly chewed through. The hardened candy plug would act as a natural timer¨Cgiving the colony, and her, time to adjust to each other¨Cgreatly increasing Queenie¡¯s chances of survival. Because a lot could go wrong when Queenie emerged from the bottle. Odds were good that the hive wouldn¡¯t accept her. The drones could decide to immediately kill her. Even if the drones accepted her, if there were any other queen bees around at all, those queens might try to kill Queenie. If there somehow weren¡¯t other queens, nursery workers could still have recently fed royal jelly to new queens. In which case they would emerge from their cells, kill each other, and then try to kill Queenie. She probably couldn¡¯t fend off multiple queens or an entire hive. But Jellybee had faith in her. She was tougher than she looked. Compared to most honey bees in the wild, she was at a higher level. Mostly from having seen more combat alongside Jellybee, but also from being considered Royalty in the animal kingdom. The odds weren¡¯t in her favor with this new hive. Her odds with only Jellybee were nonexistent. In a few days, he could be dead too. Killed by adventurers or angry townsfolk or undead supervisors. Best case scenario, Queenie got to live happily in a new home nearby. Regardless of the outcome, Jellybee would still have another hole in his chest where there once had been a family. It made him sad. He didn¡¯t have time to be sad. He wasn¡¯t even capable of tears anymore. Jellybee was a minion to a Dungeon. He had important things to do! Like watering flowers! He stepped away from the tree hollow. Then his foot slipped. He landed upside down in a tree branch. One knee was all tangled up in the foliage, suspending above the ground. Chapter 13: Fallen and Can’t Get Up Chapter 13: Fallen and Can¡¯t Get Up Night had fallen. I could tell, even without being able to see the moon or stars far above. I could still sense light. I could feel the absence of sunlight on my rooftop and in the garden. I was one with this Dungeon. I intuitively felt the plants yearn for the warmth. I felt the buzzing bees in the garden, laden with pollen, return home to their nest. I felt the nocturnal crickets emerge to strike up their violin songs. And I didn¡¯t feel tired at all. No rest for the wicked, huh? I suppose there were perks to being a sentient rock without a circadian cycle. Being able to hear everything in my Dungeon was a blessing and a curse though. It was easy to get lost in all the natural beauty of a small cottage garden, but I also found myself sometimes missing my hearing aids. Being able to turn those off was a nice feature when someone annoying wouldn¡¯t shut up. Like Jimbo-no. He was still blabbering on. I realized I had tuned him out. Jimbo-no didn¡¯t seem to have noticed. ¡°...which, once again, is why we should skedaddle,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯ll find ya a new cottage! One with plenty of other skeleton slaves to keep ya happy.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± I said. ¡°You make a good point.¡± ¡°Yes!¡± Jimbo-no started to walk towards my Core. He reached forward. ¡°Come to papa.¡± ¡°After we fix the cottage.¡± To emphasize my point, I created a bundle of thatching into thin air using Gardencraft. It dropped right into his outstretched arms, halting him in his tracks. ¡°UGH. WHY?¡± ¡°Because, Jimbo-no, it¡¯s the right thing. It¡¯s what we should do! I can¡¯t take on an army, but I can take on one little girl. One girl who lives in this house that we accidentally ransacked! We have to take responsibility. This may be a difficult concept for a Brigand to understand. And, frankly, I don¡¯t care. If that brute of a man returns we¡¯ll defend ourselves the best we can. In the meantime, we¡¯ll do the right thing.¡± I had spent too long in my previous life avoiding responsibilities and not taking accountability. That was a flaw of mine I was well aware of. Of course, that flaw wasn¡¯t all my fault. My Pappy tried his damnedest to raise me well. He was a good man at heart. Ehh, sometimes¡­. Actually, I take it back. At the end of the day, he was a stern, merciless man. Especially towards his children. When mistakes were made, sometimes it was best to pretend you hadn¡¯t made them. Because otherwise you had to start running. That lesson had unfortunately followed me long into my adulthood. And now into the afterlife. Which was why I still felt confident in my ability to get out of this mess. No more speeding off after fender benders without leaving behind my insurance info. No more pretending I had forgotten to bring a gift to the office white elephant gift party, but still participating in the gift exchange. God above had granted me a second shot at life. This time I intended to do it the right way. Jimbo-no took a deep sigh. ¡°What¡¯s your Mana Renewal rate? It should be in your Status screen.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t see what that has to do with anything,¡± I said. ¡°Just check it for me, will ya?¡± There was a quiet moment of him staring at me while I fiddled around with my screens. In the background, we could hear Jellybee singing in the garden. He was tone deaf. I squinted at my main status. I still hadn¡¯t used some of these abilities. What was a Leyline and how could I knit it? What would a ¡®Scrapbook¡¯ soup even taste like? ¡°Is Mana Renewal below my Powers? Wait, no, that says ¡®Homewrecker.¡¯ Well, I never! How dare they label me that! I¡¯m not a homewrecker! Gertrude is the damn homewrecker! That lying, cheating¡­ Oh, hey, never mind, I found it.¡± I cleared my throat. ¡°Mana Renewal says ¡®1.¡¯ Is that how quickly I gain Mana?¡±If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. He nodded. He hefted up the bundle of thatch I conjured in front of him. ¡°And this batch of weeds? How much Mana did this cost to make?¡± ¡°Three Mana,¡± I replied. My avatar gulped when I saw how much I had remaining. Soul Stroll took up more Mana to maintain than I expected. I could have accidentally tucked myself in for the night with only a few more floorboards. ¡°Your Mana Renewal rate is shit. I¡¯m guessing your capacity ain¡¯t too high either, otherwise ya wouldn¡¯t have been knocked out cold when ya dropped in to say hi to Sarge¡¯s life. Our help ain¡¯t gonna be enough to cut it. Look, lady, I know ya mean well. It¡¯s admirable. But ya won¡¯t have enough Mana to fix everything in time. We have maybe one interrupted night. Creating objects out of thin air costs a lot of Mana. You¡¯d have to set up shop for a few days and eat a couple more houses just to fix this one. In the meantime, since your Core is above ground, you will be exposed to any lumberjack with an axe to grind.¡± I pondered that over. ¡°Then, I suppose, we go below ground.¡± I looked towards the open trapdoor to the cellar. I hated to suggest it. That idea honestly scared me. Jimbo-no scratched the back of his neck vertebrae. ¡°That¡¯s not a bad idea. The next level has already been dug out for us. We can expand out from there. Should make it easier. Let¡¯s go see what we¡¯re working with.¡± The skeleton dropped the thatch bundle, dusted off his hands, and walked up to the trapdoor entrance to the basement. Jimbo-no took a bow and motioned with both arms, ¡°Grannies first,¡± he said. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± ¡°Need a push? I will. Gladly. Love me some granny tippin¡¯ down stairs. Never gets old.¡± ¡°No, jackass,¡± I replied. ¡°Just give me a moment.¡± ¡°Ooh, feisty!¡± Jimbo-no teased. ¡°This must be serious then. I¡¯ll wait.¡± I was still cognizant of my previous experience of digging my way out of my own grave. Not only that, but there was that other minion of mine down there, Spinemess. Which, no, I hadn¡¯t forgotten about. I was just, uh, feeling shy. Okay, fine. Taking responsibility. Right. That meant I had to be honest with myself. I could suspend my disbelief of magical talking skeletons when it came down to Jellybee and Jimbo-no. They were agreeable enough chaps that I could overlook this zombie-esque horror movie scenario. But Spinemess not being able to talk or fully walk, yet still being essentially alive? That gave me the heebeegeebees. It shames me to say it¨Cspeaking from experience as a magical talking rock¨Cthe idea struck a bit too close to home. If he was upset about the situation, would he be able to communicate his anger towards me? Or would he quietly seek out his revenge and destroy me? I didn¡¯t know how to confront this unknown. But confront it I shall. ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m ready. Let¡¯s go say hi.¡± I descended the dark wooden stairs. Jimbo-no followed with a loud creak for every step he took. Halfway down, we were greeted by what I knew would be there. But it was worse than expected: the terrifying sight of a humanoid figure slowly crawling up the stairs. His emerald eyes shone like will-o¡¯-wisps in the darkness and his white skull reflected eerily in my avatar''s ghostly light. He reached forth with his hand, then grasped the edge of the next stair step. Using an arm ending in only a wrist-bone, he heaved himself up the step slowly. Jimbo-no whistled. ¡°Oy, Spinemess! There ya are. Ya had me worried. Yeesh! Ya doing alright? Ya ain''t looking so good.¡± I had to agree with him. Spinemess had clearly taken the brunt of my Aura multiple times while trying to climb back up the stairs. Possibly while trying to climb the stairs, judging off those fractures. I had seen my share of broken bones from falls. Not only was he missing a jaw, but he was also now completely missing a hand, both legs, and his hip bones. His skull was cracked in several places, causing the emerald torch light of his eyes to shimmer behind him. Spinemess stared back. Then slowly, shakily, flipped off Jimbo-no with his middle finger. Jimbo-no chuckled. ¡°Good ol¡¯ Spinemess. Always, the optimist. Attaboy!¡± ¡°Uh, hello, Spinemess,¡± I said. ¡°A pleasure to meet you. I¡¯m Ethel Merriweather. Your new, uh, employer.¡± I bowed. But not too far. I didn¡¯t want to tumble down the stairs. That would be dreadfully awkward. Spinemess, of course, said nothing. Instead, he glared daggers at Jimbo-no. ¡°Don¡¯t give me that look, buddy. I thought ya were dead! And not because I forgot ¡®bout ya or something! Pssh.¡± Jimbo-no chuckled. ¡°Nah, we¡¯ve been busy, ya see? I even got ya a new job. It¡¯s a sweet gig. With uh, well, there¡¯s not much in way of perks. Or benefits. Or pay. Anyways, we''re heading down to check out the basement if ya wanna join.¡± Spinemess looked backwards down the stairs. Then bowed his head. ¡°Oh, poor dear. He¡¯s clearly had a rough day,¡± I said. ¡°Jimbo-no, help me carry him up the stairs so he can rest.¡± ¡°Your granny ghost ass won¡¯t exactly be much help hauling him up there. Besides, he¡¯s almost there!¡± Spinemess looked at me eerily. Then shook his head and pulled himself up another step. ¡°See? He¡¯s got this.¡± Jimbo-no stepped over the other skeleton, then continued downwards. ¡°For pity¡¯s sake. That man,¡± I shook my head. ¡°Herding cats is easier than dealing with that ass.¡± I really wished I had an actual hand to help Spinemess. ¡°As soon as we get out of this mess we¡¯ll fix you up, right as rain. I promise.¡± Spinemess stared once again. Then shakily lifted up his hand and gave me a thumbs up. I smiled back at him. ¡°Hey, lady! There¡¯s a locked door here! Give me a hand?¡± Chapter 14: Casting Magic Chapter 14: Casting Magic At the bottom of the stairs was a brief landing leading to a large wooden door. At least, that¡¯s what Jimbo-no said was there. At the foot of the stairs I found Spinemess¡¯s loose bones scattered about. But beyond that my vision got all fuzzy. If I squinted real hard, I could maybe see a large brown shape, just slightly on the edge of the edge of my boundary. But the strain was exhausting and hurt my mind. Breaking down the door was out of the question. We were actively trying to not destroy the house, after all. Besides, Jimbo-no already tried that. Whatever restriction that was placed upon my vision also affected my minion''s movements. Stepping beyond that range required great strength and energy from them. It was like watching them try to push through thick jelly. Even after they got through, they seemed to bounce right back. ¡°That¡¯s weird,¡± Jimbo-no mused. ¡°The basement isn¡¯t that deep. Your Core is closer to the stairs than the front door. Have ya tried turning your vision off and on again?¡± He asked in a straightforward tone. For once, maybe he was actually asking a genuine question to try to be helpful. Unfortunately, I always despised hearing that question, because it was usually the solution. But somehow I doubted it this time. Turning my vision off sounded a lot like dying again. ¡°No, of course I haven''t. I''m already half blind.¡± I tapped on my spectacles for emphasis. ¡°Then just expand the Dungeon.¡± Jimbo-no stated it simply. I pouted. ¡°You make it sound easy. But how? Nothing I¡¯ve done as Core has been easy.¡± Could I even do that? It would make sense. My Dungeon went all the way out to the tree I grew in the backyard. Which was much farther away from my Core than the front door was. Speaking of which, as much as it was tacky and pained my soul, I knew that fallen log on the front porch would have to stay for now. It would be a decent barricade and would temporarily block anyone that wasn¡¯t a freakishly strong lumberjack from entering. And I knew I could always Mana Dust it away later. ¡°Dunno. Try exerting your dominion over the world. Or maybe tap into the Mana flowing through it. Whatever Dungeons do. I ain¡¯t one.¡± I closed my eyes. Focusing on the edge of where my vision ended. Behind us, Spinemess slipped down a stair step. You can do it, skeleton. I believe in you. I breathed deep. I was the Dungeon. I could sense everything within my boundary. But where did my boundaries lie? I thought back to when I first came to this world. Somewhere in these fancy, convoluted computer screens I had a backlog of what my main goal was in this world. Truth be told, I didn¡¯t really want to go looking for it. Why bother learning about how to beat the game if I didn¡¯t understand the basic controls? However, I did recall a line from the flight attendant lady about using Mana to shape my environment. I needed to focus more. ¡°Or maybe. Ooh, try-¡± Jellybee was saying. I left the conversation by ending my Soul Stroll. ¡°No,¡± he muttered. ¡°That wasn''t exactly what I had in mind¡­But you do you.¡± He said to the spot where my avatar had previously stood. I looked back at my main status screen. My Mana had renewed by one point during this conversation. Why? Mana Dusting refills my Mana by turning mass into smoke. Objects turn into smoke that flows into my Core. I needed to top off anyways, so I Dusted some dead branches and leaves off at the edges of the garden. A few moments later I confirmed that yes, the smoke¨Cnot the act of tidying up¨Cwas what had caused my Mana to increase.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. I zoomed my vision out from my Core. And watched and waited. Ah, I see. There! It was very subtle. And not the right color. But yes, Mana was indeed drifting into my Core through the air currents without my active participation.The color wasn¡¯t the usual vinyl kitchen flooring orange that my Mana was. Instead the smoke strands were faint green, blue, or occasionally purple threads of Mana that slowly winded their way through the cottage windows or doors, then into my Core. I reached out with my mind, grabbing hold of a thin baby blue Mana string drifting by. I followed this thin string of thread to the front door, past the wooden log, and onto the front porch. Beyond that, I saw nothing, but I could see the threads of Mana drifting in, pooling together, and tangling up before finally unraveling into the air towards my Core. The thread was thicker here. No longer like strings of smoke. It felt familiar in my hands. Mana Dust felt like a push. So what if¡­ I pulled on the thread. The Mana fiber thickened. There! I caught a glimpse. It was for only a moment, but my vision expanded. The Mana in my grasp drifted about, spinning and twisting about itself. It seemed alive. Desperate to move or change. I pulled again. And caught another glimpse. The Mana continued to twist upon itself, like rope fibers. Or maybe even like¡­ I reached out, grabbing another thread of Mana. I Soul Strolled off the porch, holding a thread within each hand, then walked around to the backyard where I had sent Jellybee to work. The threads followed after me, drifting about and twisting into thicker threads. I found him in the moonlight, hanging upside down in the branches of an old oak tree. Clearly, I had to keep half an eye on this one. ¡°Jellybee, dear!¡± I called. ¡°I can see that you¡¯re busy, but I had a quick question. You said you know a spell or two. Would you by chance happen to know what a Leyline is?¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s easy! It¡¯s¡­¡± He thought for a moment. ¡°It¡¯s Mana that flows around the world. But, like, the good stuff. All distilled like whiskey. Mages weave it together to cast spells.¡± ¡°Is it like thread? Or string?¡± Jellybee thought for a moment with a hand upon his chin, still suspended upside down. ¡°I think. Ooh, is that why they call it a Ley Line? That¡¯s neat!¡± He jostled about. Angry bees emerged from the tree. ¡°So what do mages use to weave spells?¡± I had a feeling I knew the answer. I had long suspected I was in some sort of medieval Europe setting, between all the magic talking skeletons, enchanted wood chopping axes, and cats with lightning powers. ¡°Their hands. But it''s easier with Wands. Or staffs. Basically sticks. Those help you direct the energy better by distilling it down even further. Ow! Don''t hurt me, I gave you a gift!¡± Sticks, huh. I turned around and headed back to the front porch, still clutching the lines in my grip. I called over my shoulder, ¡°Thank you, dear. I appreciate it! I¡¯ll let you get back to work.¡± I heard him cry out, followed by a loud crash. He would be fine. Probably. Once on the front porch I pulled on the threads again. The pathway leading up to the steps was clearer to me. I could see it.The world beyond seemed so close. Repeating the motions. I looped one thread of Mana around another, interlacing it. Yes, this motion felt familiar. I undid the loop, then pulled the threads taut between both hands. They twisted and merged together into one thicker line. Didn¡¯t the size and texture of this thread feel exactly like¡­ Yarn. That, I knew how to work with. I didn¡¯t have sticks or the basic tools I needed. But I had fingers. And those would do for now. Holding the combined Leylines together, I interlaced this yarn sized thread between each finger of my left hand, then repeated the motion on the other side of my hand, before wrapping it around the hand. It was the start of a basic pattern I knew. Over and over, I repeated the motions. Magic was being worked in the palm of my hand. I was casting something. Or more specifically, I was casting on. I slowly worked this flat two dimensional line into a three dimensional shape. One that could take on a life of its own. Given enough time and the right techniques, I could form a lot of things. For now, I wanted to make a small pathway. Or a tiny blanket. As a test, that would be good enough for me. I casted off and secured the Mana into shape. I activated my Leyline Knitting Skill, forming a stitch in reality. And my Dungeon grew in size. For the first time, I took a small step forward off the front porch and onto the wooded pathway. Chapter 15: The Cat’s Out of the Bag Chapter 15: The Cat¡¯s Out of the Bag I Strolled into the living room to find Jimbo-no walking up the stairs, carrying Spinemess over his back. ¡°There you are!¡± Jimbo-no exclaimed. ¡°Spiney and I were worried for ya after ya wandered off, Grandma. We checked everywhere! Nobody had seen any signs of a crazy, senile, old lady. Isn¡¯t that right, Spiney?¡± Jimbo-no tilted Spinemess¡¯s head up and down. The other skeleton answered back with fiercely blazing eyes and a smack across the back of the skull. ¡°I was doing whatever Dungeons do.¡± I nodded to Spinemess, then I smirked at Jimbo-no. ¡°I see you¡¯ve been trying to make friends.¡± ¡°What do you expect? Ya left me alone with him in the dark! All I could do was listen to his pathetic scraping noises up the stairs while ya were off playing hooky.¡± My smirk widened. ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake. Ya do that on purpose?¡± He tossed Spinemess onto the couch. His tailbone popped off and went flying. ¡°Whoops. Sorry, pal. I¡¯ll get it. Anyways, how was your nap? ¡®Cuz last I checked we were in the middle of something.¡± Still finger knitting Leylines In my hand. I was repeating what I had just done, this time activating my Skill upon the faint Leylines leading from the basement up to my Core. I redirected the Mana, pulled on it, unraveling whatever bobbin lay beyond, and twisted the threads into a larger size that I knew how to work with better. I then Leyline Knit my Dungeon past the basement door and further beyond that, into the next room. I then Mana Dusted away some of the wooden frame holding the door¡¯s hinges in place. There was a loud crash from down below in the basement. The door could be put back in place and fixed easily enough. My smirk broke into a grin. ¡°Door''s open, by the way,¡± I said. Using Gardencraft, I grew a rudimentary pick-axe and shovel into place before me. ¡°Ah, nicely done. Now wipe that shit eating grin off your face, ya old bat.¡± He walked out back to fetch Jellybee from the garden. While I waited I inspected part of the cellar. I didn¡¯t know much about building houses, but I wanted to make sure I wasn¡¯t going to accidentally collapse the whole cottage by breaking through one of the foundations. I found a suitable spot and started Dusting away. Growing that equipment had brought my Mana back into the red. My two other minions returned. Jellybee looked crestfallen as he picked up the shovel. Yet Jimbo-no seemed particularly excited to be making progress. The grumpy Brigand with sailing experience seemed initially like the type that would jump at any opportunity to avoid work and laze around. In actuality, deep down, I knew he loathed feeling useless. Despite all his complaints, I could tell that Jimbo-no had enjoyed keeping himself busy by teaching me. He¡¯d never admit it though. Jimbo-no hefted the pick-axe over his shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t go wandering off now, Spinemess. We¡¯ve got a tunnel to dig!¡± The two able bodied skeletons descended down the creaky steps. ¡°Sit tight, dear. Once I get topped off I¡¯ll figure out how to get you shipshape.¡± I told the lounging mute. We¡¯ll need all hands on deck before the night is through.¡± Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Spinemess saluted with his one hand. I smiled, then ended my Stroll to conserve Mana. Speaking of which, I had the distinct feeling someone else would be joining us by the end of the night. I gave their resting place a thorough Dusting. I permeated the soil and stirred it up like compost, enough to give them a helping hand. I knew better to wake them before they were ready. **** Tiptap awoke from a very long nap. It was a good nap, by her standards. Until someone had rudely dumped water on top of her. Tiptap felt cold. Cramped. Wet. It was a sheer state of misery. She let out a fierce yawn. She tried stretching, but found that she couldn¡¯t move. Clearly she was under a lot of blankets. She tried to poke her way out. But the blankets felt thick. About two feet or three feet thick. And made of loose garden soil. She now felt very, very cramped. Tiptap, naturally, panicked. She didn¡¯t know how she got here or what was happening. All she knew was that she wanted out. She cried out. She clawed and scraped and wiggled. She tore through the blankets, dug through the material with tooth and claw, and shoved her way upwards. The further she went, the easier it became, like somebody was helping her dig out from up above. Then finally, after what felt like an eternity, she crawled her way out of her own grave. Tiptap emerged into the garden, under the light of the stars, the planetary ring, and the moon. She shook off the dirt and debris as best she could, then finally, took a much needed biiiig stretch. Busily grooming herself, Tiptap ignored the message. She wiped a paw across her head and then tried to lick the dirt off that paw. Curious. She discovered she no longer had a tongue. She cocked her head. That was new. And unfortunate. She liked having a tongue. She took it in stride though. It was what it was. At least she wasn¡¯t cramped. But she still felt cold. She wandered through the garden. She normally didn¡¯t nap so far away from home. As she passed under the shadow of the house, a bolt of black lightning jumped down at her from the roof. She jumped. That was Bedknob, wasn¡¯t it? He had grown so much! And so quickly! She tried nuzzling up to him. He arched his back and hissed at her. All his fur was on end, sparking with electricity. Did he not recognize her smell? She cocked her head again. That was also new. She carried on and entered the home. Strange. The backdoor was open. Normally she would have had to tap on the door a few times and cry to gain entry, but she waltzed right through. And it certainly seemed different inside. Most of the furniture was gone. There was even half a corpse laying on the couch. How long had Tiptap been asleep? She sniffed about cautiously. The air smelled heavily of smoke and ashes. Not everything had changed, though. There was still the fireplace. Surely that would be nice and warm? Tiptap laid down before the fireplace. Same as she always had. Except her rug was missing. And she was somehow still cold. Even with the fire burning so intensely. She hopped up onto the hearth and gingerly tested the green fire with a paw. Fire normally burned too hot this close. But this seemed fine? Inside the fire was a glowing rock with a geode core. She stepped into the fire. It was pleasantly toasty. Like laying in a sunbeam for a few hours. Finally, some comfort. She kneaded upon the embers. They felt good. Nice and warm. This was a lovely heat to bask in. ¡°Why hello there, little one. You sure know how to make yourself at home.¡± Tiptap looked up to see an elderly woman seated at the edge of the fireplace. She twirled string about in her hands. Which was awfully tempting. But the ends of the string faded away into thin air, out of Tiptap''s potential reach. It was not the same woman that had lived in the home previously. But this one seemed friendly enough. She wasn¡¯t picky when it came to giving her affections to humans. They came and went like sunny days. ¡°I see you like my fire. I suppose, since you insist, you can stay. As long as you like. Though I must apologize in advance for the racket in the basement. Tiptap curled up around the rock and purred, just happy to be home again. Chapter 16: Diggy Diggy Heigh-ho! Chapter 16: Diggy Diggy Heigh-ho! Sometimes the so-called ¡®cat delivery system¡¯ really does come through when you¡¯re least expecting it. Especially when you feel like a new cat is the last thing you need in the world right now. But what could I do? This was Tiptap¡¯s home long ago. I did find it odd that I had gained a new undead minion without acquiring any specifically new Powers or Skills. Her empty shell had laid in the garden before I even arrived here. Yet I hadn''t specifically touched it in any manner. My Gardencrafting and Dusting were in completely separate parts of the yard. Except... Jellybee had gone near her grave. Him? Raising the dead? Preposterous. Jellybee of Nazareth? Please. I had to assume going forward that any corpse in a dungeon, human or not, could turn into a zombie with enough time. I didn¡¯t think Tiptap was a mistake on my end or happenstance. As one particularly delightful overseas call center representative once told me about a complaint I had with my phone, "It''s a feature, not a bug." Maybe old reliable Brittle Bones would continue to come in handy, eh? Until then, I had this sweet little angel guarding my Core. I gave Tiptap a quick ethereal pet across the back that she didn¡¯t react to, then popped back downstairs to say hi and to check on the work of my two minions. The boys were quickly getting used to me Strolling in to say hi and then leaving just as easily. The cellar had been about what I expected for a countryside small town cottage. If not a bit fancier than usual. Wine bottles arrayed securely on one wall, a tall bookshelf on another, and one brick wall that Jellybee and Jimbo-no were hacking away at. What I hadn¡¯t been expecting was the monstrous trophy head of what appeared to be a type of dragon hung above the bookcase. Nor did I expect the many crossed off bounty posters that decorated these quarters, the practice dummy in the corner, the weapons displayed in cases, and the stockpiles of what appeared to be copper coins and precious gems hidden within a few false bricks.The precious gems appeared to be jade? And maybe rubies? Despite being a shiny rock, I was no expert on them. Oh, and another secret entrance behind the wine rack. Naturally. Once again, I could see the entrance there, but not much beyond. I would have to extend my reach again. The previous owner, this adventurer, must have been quite the character. A clever individual who liked to keep common pleasantries and resources hidden away from public view, in their own home¡­ And had clearly been successful enough in their career to justify their secrets behind secrets. I Dusted through several bricks¨Ccausing them to crack and crumble on their own¨Cgiving me some extra Mana to work with. ¡°There¡¯s another room here. Can I rely on you both to keep breaking down the wall while I make sure it¡¯s safe?¡± I asked. The two skeletons both nodded, then went right back to work. A notably quiet reaction from the two. I could tell they were also in the zone. We all wanted to work. And to survive. That left me with some extra mental space to work on my Soul Knitting skill and expand the Dungeon into the surrounding earth, including beyond the wall mounted wine rack shelves. The immediate problem I realized was that this would be a very, very slow process. A few steps beyond the porch was one thing. Literally pulling threads of Mana into my Dungeon, then setting them in place was another matter. Even this cellar room had taken a good while to stitch into place. I searched through my Gardencraft menus until I found something that could work. I clicked on the selection twice, It took up a whopping 10 Mana to summon two sticks. Half my Capacity! Well, the description called them mage wands. Whatever. They had roughly the right shape and length for what I wanted, even if they weren¡¯t exactly what I needed. Country girls make do. The two wands materialized in the palm of my hand, growing into reality. Then slipped right through my grasp and clattered to the ground. I reached for them with my Avatar. And my hand passed right through them. Oh Fiddlesticks! How could I forget? Out of frustration, I Mana Dusted one of the wands away. Then noticed for a brief moment that the Dust left behind a smoky imprint of its shape. It started to drift away, towards my Core up the stairs. Oh no you don''t! I instinctively snagged the smoke within my grasp. The wand remained, though the bulk of the wand¡¯s mass had drifted off anyways. That, actually, was the perfect size. Exactly what I needed. Holy smokes! That worked! My avatar could hold ghost smoke! I repeated what I did with the other wand. I held onto the two needle thin sticks in one hand. Now let''s see¡­ Aha! I looped one of the leylines around a knitting needle, casting on the start of the first stitches. Ethel Merriweather, you sly fox. The system seemed to agree with me, since it immediately gave me a level without even activating the Skill. Alright. Let¡¯s see what these babies can do. I Leyline Knit just enough past the wine racks and into the secret room to make sure there wasn¡¯t anything vitally important there, like a living person or another corpse. Satisfied with the peek, I continued to Knit. The process went immensely faster this time. And I suspect not just because of the level up, but because I finally had the proper tools. After I had enough of the room stitched up to make sure there were no further secret rooms, I ended the Skill¨Ccasting off the stitches¨Cforming a cozy little blanket over my newly formed domain. I Strolled away and used just my Core¡¯s vision to peek into the new room, leaving the hidden entrance behind the wine bottles still closed. I didn¡¯t want my minions to get damaged or hurt if they walked through. I suspected there could be dangerous traps guarding terrible secrets or copious amounts of wealth. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Instead, I found something entirely unexpected: food storage. There was all the hallmarks of old timey preservation methods to keep the room as perfectly dry and secure as possible. Flagstone flooring, white washed limestone walls, decent ventilation, and heavy marble stone slab shelves. The temperature was colder here than the rest of the house. And lots of food. In this storage there were about three dozen shelves, all filled to the brim with preserved foods. Casks of fermenting small beer, pots of salted pork, smoked meats, dried herbs and oyster mushrooms, bags of sunflower seeds and nuts... And so many, many jars. Mostly preserved jams and pectin, but also jars of pickled eggs and pigs feet. The food storage reminded me of when I would visit a childhood friend, Grace Larson. She grew up Mormon and her parents were well off to afford an entire pantry room in their basement. It was big enough that we play hide and seek amongst the rows of shelves. Most of my generation, including Grace, had grown up under that heavy shadow of the Great Depression. We had inherited from our silent generation parents a healthy fear on how to survive when food ran short. We were all taught how to reuse what we had. No plastic Tupperware, Christmas ribbon, or Alfredo jar went in the trash. Grace, however, got the double whammy with her family upbringing. It was the equivalent of living with neat and orderly religious food hoarders. Don¡¯t get me wrong. The Larsons were lovely, nice folks. They could cook up the best funeral potatoes for any ¡®newly weds and nearly deads¡¯ event. Yet each of them were practically looking forward to buckling down in their mason jar bunker for some ''latter days'' apocalypse. Just looking at these shelves made me suddenly crave a funeral. The clanging racket made by my boys in the other room pulled me out of memory lane. I briefly explored to make sure I wasn¡¯t missing anything. I discovered a stout barrel of what seemed to be... hardtack? I tried Mana Dusting a sample to verify, but I couldn''t even make a dent in one without putting in substantial time. The density was practically thicker than stone. Which only confirmed that, yes, this was in fact hardtack. Now that was interesting. There¡¯s a contrasting juxtaposition between hardtack and Mason jars being in the same room. I didn¡¯t see a whole lot of hardtack in the modern world I left behind. Civilization had moved onto better ways of preserving food for long distance travel. Yet this room had a whole lot of canning going on. This many jars, all uniform in appearance, required a scale of industrialization I hadn''t noticed elsewhere in the home. All that glass and aluminum would require a society to have a certain degree of manufacturing prowess beyond medieval. Which is what I presumed the technology level to be roughly at. Aluminum in particular, while abundant in modern times back on Earth, wasn''t in mass production until later in human history. Like the late 1800''s, I think? It was so rare at first that it was worth more than gold. And then in the next century it was in the gutters of every street. The question remained: was this a sign of modern technology? Or was this the real treasure of the home? It seemed awfully strange to me that the adventurer chose to essentially hide away a fancy pantry behind several locked doors. Moving a rug, opening a trapdoor, and unlocking two doors seemed like a ton of steps just to fetch a jar of olives for a snack. Were they planning on some sort of end of the world situation? Did they think they could ride it out over a couple months? What was the point? Overall, it was highly ironic. All this abundance of rations and supplies and potential wealth¨Csquirreled away between multiple doors¨Cdiscovered by a rock. And a couple of dorks that didn''t need to eat normal food to survive. I returned back to the main basement room to find another surprise in that Jellybee already had a few levels in his Digging Skill. The hole in the wall had progressed much faster than I expected to be physically possible, becoming roughly the size of a doorway. I knew from personal experience that digging a hole even two feet down into soil could get mighty tough. So Jellybee had clearly seen some hard labor in at least one of his lives to be this good at shoveling dirt. Between Jellybee''s Skill and my Mana Dusting to weaken the bricks, we made quick work and began digging several feet in. Any of the debris they left on the floor I was able to Dust up, topping off my Mana Capacity enough to gain some experience here and there. Before long we had a sizable start to a tunnel. This steady rate of progress on something substantial was a welcome blessing. I did start to worry as I saw dust and dirt tumble down every so often. I wasn¡¯t much of an engineer, but I knew enough about physics to be worried about all the weight above pressing downward the bigger this hole got. Which seemed like a problem inherently contrary to my nature as a Dungeon. How was I supposed to keep building a whole prison system deep underground without even having the faintest idea on how to build a simple mine or mountain underpass? How was I supposed to keep the roof over my head without knowing what was up above on the roof? I knew there was a river in the opposite direction we were digging, but what happened if we hit a trapped gas pocket or a hidden underwater reservoir? My two minions made for terrible Canaries. They couldn¡¯t even breathe. How was I supposed to know if something was going wrong with the air? I tried not to think about that. Fretting would get me nowhere. Chewing through dead tree roots all the way to the surface did feel like a bad idea¨Cthere was a chance they were holding loose soil together in clumps¨Cso I only Dusted up the roots that dangled in our way. To ease the rest of my troubled thoughts, I Gardencrafted some support beams into place to help mitigate cave ins. Then, actually thinking about it a bit more, I then Crafted my first trap. Kind of. It was a secured wooden plate above the entrance to the new tunnel, holding up some rocks I had cracked through using Mana Dusting. All I had to do was Dust the plate and I would cause a cave in. Which would provide us with an escape route. More importantly, it would fill in the entrance so the actual home owner wouldn¡¯t have to worry about random tunnels into their cozy reading library. They¡¯d just need to replace the bricks or hang a nice painting over the mess. Good as new. This meant it wasn¡¯t really a trap. Just a home renovation project that could kill someone if they were in the wrong spot. So basically no different from any other renovation project. After that I went back to digging away with Mana Dusting. This was technically still part of the cottage, which also meant I was passively wracking up even further additional experience from my Homewrecker title. This quickly resulted in those sweet, sweet announcements I had been looking forward to. [PLEASE SELECT ONE: MANA RENEWAL UPGRADE MANA CAPACITY UPGRADE] That''s when I remembered this was a world with game-like mechanics. And that not all game mechanics were perfectly balanced. Or realistic. Upgrades made sense. Cave-ins made less sense. Wasn¡¯t there a video game about mining? Ah, yes, Minecraft. I never played it. I just saw kids at the public library playing it constantly after school. It was usually the more annoying kids that didn¡¯t know how to shut up. Perhaps the children of modern eras yearn for the mines. But I knew none of those brats knew how to actually dig a tunnel. They wouldn¡¯t have lasted five minutes in the salt mines with my grandpapa. That newfangled cube game wouldn''t have been so popular if it had realistic mining with black lungs and dubious child slavery laws. Starving slowly to death under a tunnel collapse in the dark didn''t sound like good fun to me. But who knew what the kids enjoyed these days. I certainly didn''t understand it. After I chose my new abilities I made a mental note to conduct tests on tunnel digging far from the home and without my minions in the way. Maybe the tunnel roof would hold without compacting the material around it? If this world had video game logic, then I had to stop applying real logic to it. Speaking of which¡­ There was another game I was thinking of. Not a video game though. What was it¡­ the one with a cheesy movie poster and made kids commit crimes in the park while dressing up? It¡¯s on the tip of my tongue. Something about mazes and monsters? Eh, I¡¯ll come back to it. I had a hunch that with enough Mana Capacity I could create some crazy objects using Gardencraft. Not just objects, but maybe actual monsters. Well, besides Tiptap. Living creatures seemed out of my purview at the moment, but I figured it was entirely possible to make my own monsters, if not expected later on. Traps could only go so far to help against axe crazy home invaders. I bet that man wouldn¡¯t last long against a dragon! By Jove, I remembered! That other game was Dungeons and Dragons! I also hadn¡¯t played that. That one was also played at the public library, by annoying teens that didn¡¯t know how to shut up. I didn¡¯t want monstrous teens or greedy dragons lurking around the place. Both sounded expensive and demanding. The most expensive object I had created so far was a tree. I didn''t expect to make much more than some kitchen cabinets or support beams. Even the porch roof could be built piecemeal over time. I didn''t need that much Mana all at once. But with a higher Renewal Rate? Oh boy. I think I figured out a way I could game the system! All I had to do was be a frugal penny pincher and not spend all that much. Whenever I was maxed out, anything excess would turn to experience. Naturally there would be diminishing returns, but I would still rapidly gain levels by doing essentially nothing. Levels so far seemed to be my primary resource for gaining more power over this world and for gaining tools to survive. Sorry, Spinemess. Wait a bit longer. Ethel here has to figure out first which game she got herself trapped in. Then lickety-split, we¡¯ll find a way to fix you up. I pressed the first option. Chapter 17: Now We’re Cookin’! Chapter 17: Now We¡¯re Cookin¡¯! I had to say, getting to level 3 so soon seemed to have its perks. They really roll out the red carpet the more you buy into their sky mileage programs. I don¡¯t even have to choose one of each Skill and Power this level. I can pick any two I want? But was that normal to get two levels up in less than twenty-four hrs? Was that normal for video games? Or were the first levels just easy? Granted, I hadn¡¯t known for actually how long I had been stuck in a hole. Nor did I know how long I had been unconscious after Gardencrafting a tree. Actually, how long was an hour on this planet? Or days? Back in my solar system a single ¡°day¡± on Venus lasted for over two hundred Earth days. I had to presume this planet was at least very similar to Earth. Otherwise there wouldn¡¯t be exactly the same species like humans, oak trees, or house cats I decided I wouldn¡¯t look this gift horse in the mouth any longer. I dived into the option menus with the intent of quickly choosing anything that would immediately help us out. If anything required extra thought I would save those selections for later. Any of the previous Skills from before, like ¡®Empty Nester¡¯ or ¡®Trapdoorcraft,¡¯ seemed like they would come in mighty handy. : : <20/20 Vision>: : : Yeah, yeah, Milly. I heard you. Loud and clear. I should have picked Elemental Affinity. You don¡¯t have to tell me twice. Or maybe you do. I need a lot of things repeated¡­ And I didn¡¯t see any Powers that would improve my hearing. It would help if you would actually tell me what Elemental Affinity actually did. It was the only Power that made a second appearance from the last list. Yet I seem to be getting along just fine without it. You want me making another darn choice regarding the periodic element table? My dear, I haven¡¯t been to chemistry class in a few decades. Fine, I¡¯ll take it. Oh, hush you. I closed out the window. [PLEASE MAKE A SELECTION - ] I closed that window too. You¡¯re almost as bad as those self checkout ladies! I¡¯m placing my item in the bag right now! Please stop yelling at me! Look, I¡¯ll get to it when I get to it. I have another Power I want to choose first. Truth be told, I was grateful for Milly¡¯s advice on Dungeon Stroll. I would have been tempted to take it purely just to see myself become some sort of Baba Yaga. The children would run from me in terror! Despite the warning, I probably still wouldn¡¯t have taken it. Probably. Not unless this house actually belonged to me. And if the home did belong to me? I can neither confirm nor deny what sort of choice I would make. Ahem. Moving right along¡­ I had to say, that increased sight range Power looked pretty swell. I would snatch that one up if I didn¡¯t have a feeling I¡¯d see it again. All the puns intended. I also couldn¡¯t help but notice there was nothing related to Minions this time around. Well, wait one moment. I read Pyreplace Simmer again carefully. Why would there be this seemingly silly cooking Skill amongst these other neat Powers being offered? Yet Milly had no warnings against it? Hmmm¡­ I do like cooking. And good soup. Hmmmmm¡­ I did have some sort of Stew amongst my other Powers. Welp, nothing ventured, nothing gained! Milly, dear? I¡¯ll take that one, please. Ohhh, Spinemess! Look at this lovely Neverwatch Pot I got you! My status screen now read as such: MERRIWEATHER DUNGEON GEOBLOOM CORE (LEVEL 3) MANA CAPACITY: 20/20 MANA RENEWAL RATE: 2 MINIONS: SPINEMESS, UNDEAD SKELETON MAGE (LVL 2) JELLYBEE, UNDEAD SKELETON SAPPER (LVL 3) JIMBO-NO, UNDEAD SKELETON BRIGAND (LVL 6) TIPTAP, UNDEAD SHADOW CAT (LVL 1) TRAP INTEGRITY: N/A LOOT VALUE: TBD AVAILABLE SKILLS: LEYLINE KNITTING (LVL 3) GARDENCRAFT (LVL 4) MANA DUSTING (LVL 10) SOUL STROLL (LVL 2) UNLOCKED POWERS: BRITTLE BONES AURA ELEMENTAL AFFINITY (TBD) PYREPLACE SIMMER SCRAPBOOK SOULSTEW TITLES: HOMEWRECKER Chapter 18: Like Hell-Broth, Boil and Bubble Chapter 18: Like Hell-Broth, Boil and Bubble The cooking contraption was pleasantly easy to set up. It was at the top of my Recipe list with a labeled picture. Once I clicked the icon, it greyed out in the menu. Then there was an immediate rush of air and tangle of Leyline stitching within the fireplace. While I waited for the Neverwatch Pot to build itself, I Mana Dusted up some ashes around the place and deeper into the tunnel below. I went to physically check the time outside, then kicked myself when I remembered I still couldn''t see the sky. Naturally, there weren''t any clocks in the house either. Unless they burned up in the fire. I already regretted not picking up that Power to see farther. Instead, I measured time through the garden. Either the sun had just risen or would rise shortly. The grasshoppers had taken a bow, letting birdsong continue their chorus. Toadstool mushrooms poked up through a small compost heap and into the underbrush, then dropped a veil of black spores upon a passing snail. For ever so brief a moment, a frog hopped out of the creek, then hopped back in. Crepuscular creatures crept past. A few stray cats here and there. A doe with her fawn skirted by and dew kissed the grass. All sure signs of dawn¡¯s quiet approach. The whole time I waited for my project to finish I kept busy. I continued to Mana Dust, Gardencraft quick repairs to walls and cabinets, pondered over a few thoughts, and overall just breathed in everything. Watching, listening, and feeling. Falling into the rhythms of man and nature. The rest of the night was peaceful. Crisp, yet not cold. Eventually, slow warmth graced the surface of my Dungeon. The sunlight felt delightful. Like digging cold toes into a sandy beach. The Construction finished by the time the sun fully rose beyond the mountain. I''ll be honest, Milly. I thought it was going to be more like a stockpot. Or a Dutch Oven. This, without a doubt, is a Cauldron. It was smaller than I expected. A thick cast iron cauldron with a detachable lid, with two small, sturdy handles. The Neverwatch cooking Pot hung from a newly created metal trammel hook and fireplace crane. The wide arc, swinging arm crane was attached to a bracket that had bolted itself into the brick fireplace. It seemed like an awfully elaborate setup just to boil some ingredients. Tiptap had slept through the entire construction. Only waking after it''s completion to cock her head, then let out a yawn before falling back asleep. I sniffed. It felt awfully crowded in here between me, the contraption, and the cat. My skeletal companion for the grave shift, Spinemess, had also appeared to have slept through most of it. His eyes had smoldered into deep green embers that glowed faintly in the morning light. They sparked alight when I Soul Strolled over, taking a seat upon the couch beside him. "Good morning. Well, lazy bones, I''ve got good news and bad news. The good is that I might have figured out a way to fix you up. The bad? This way could also kill you and turn you into soup." Spinemess looked up at the new Construction. His eyes widened. He frantically shook his head and gesticulated with his arms, repeatedly crossing them before his chest in an X-shape. His humerus disagreed with the motions. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. The arm bone popped off, taking with it his other hand, which flopped limply onto the floor. I raised an eyebrow. He turned to look away from me. I waited. Patiently. He scratched the top of his head with the ulna of his one remaining arm. He shrugged, then looked into my avatar''s eyes. He nodded slowly. "Glad to hear it. I''ll tell the other boys I need help putting you in the cauldron." I pointed at the Neverwatch Pot, then toggled on the Pyreplace Simmer Power and mentally sprinkled a pinch of Mana into the Pot. I then Strolled downstairs to get some helping hands. The cauldron lid rattled. Magical energy boiled and bubbled at the corners, like a witchy hell-broth froth. True to the name, it did not spill. Instead, it erupted. A skull shaped plume of pink smoke poofed out of the cauldron. It arose into the chimney flue, then let out a ghastly howl that echoed through the cottage. Spinemess''s embers widened. He shook his head violently, spilling rivulets of emerald sparks across his lacrimals and down his cheekbones. Whoops. That might have been more than a pinch. For once, Jellybee was the one that protested. His voice sounded almost hurt as he spoke. "You want us both to stop digging. And drop Spinemess into ... a cooking pot? You want us to make..." His body sagged. His voice cracked. "Our friend a soup?" "Heavens no! No, Jellybee." I reassured him with a smile and reached out a ghostly hand to grab his shoulder. "No, one pair of hands should be plenty enough to throw him in." I turned to the other skeleton. "Jimbo-no, wanna help me make¨Cas Jellybee so eloquently put it¨Ca ¡®friend soup?¡¯" He hopped in place. "Oh, boy! Do I ever!" Jimbo-no clearly had no reservations whatsoever in regards to boiling alive one of his previous squad-mates. Jellybee sagged further. "Chin up, Jellybee. It''s for his own good. I promise. Besides, you are doing a great job here. I want you to keep up the good work on the tunnel. Look how far we''ve gotten!¡± It was true. My Gardencrafting Skill had been put to good use with all the repairs I had been able to do to the house while waiting on the Neverwatch Pot to boil into reality. All thanks to having a steady supply of guilt free Mana. "Think about it, lad!" Jimbo-no said. "Obviously there must be a good reason for this, Jellybee! I mean, I certainly can''t think of any good reason. Granny Ethel must be off her rocker. This ship is going down with this captain. But ya know, I''m all there for it! Ya can count on me, Cap!" He cackled as he rattled up the stairs at a jog. "C''mere, ya little devil!" There was the sound of struggle. Then another horrible howl rended itself from the chimney flue. I rolled my eyes and Strolled away. I reappeared next to the cauldron, greeted by a skeleton flailing about like it was trying to waltz with a macabre Pogo Stick, along with a new notification. That sure took its sweet time, huh? Contrary to the advertised name, I didn''t fully trust this new process of minion rehabilitation. I had reason to believe it might work like I expected. And reasonable suspicion to believe I might have somewhat unintentionally sentenced one of my few minions to certain doom. I watched the Neverwatch Pot. Peering inside its depths, more specifically, seeing right through it.. Like some sort of nightmarish ultrasound from Hell. Sure enough, something was happening. What, I couldn''t say. I just knew the heat wasn''t exactly breaking down the bones. More like, refining them? I noted Tiptap was nowhere to be found amongst all the racket. I didn''t blame her. After Jimbo-no finished shoving Spinemess in and covered the Pot with the lid, a number engraved itself into the side of the vessel. It glowed a sickly green. "Six? Is that a timer?" Jimbo-no asked. "You know, that would make sense," I replied. "Do you suppose that''s in hours? Or days?" He shrugged. "Guess we''ll find out. Welp, that was cathartic! Back to work. Did ya see how far we got? Must be twelve, maybe fourteen feet deep, I wager! Let''s build a new room in the Dungeon next!" He walked down the stairs without even sparing the cauldron a second glance. ¡°Oh, didn''t ya say ya leveled up? What other goodies did ya get?¡± I sighed. Time to confront the other choice I made. These precious early morning hours could possibly be our last respite. I had to make every decision count. Including the Elemental kinds. Chapter 19: Shit, Fire, and Apple Butter Chapter 19: Shit, Fire, and Apple Butter ¡°Well, that was a dumb decision,¡± Jimbo-no admonished. ¡°You¡¯re saying we could have just¡­ walked away from here. But instead ya chose, what, to get better at setting things on fire? Believe me, Lady, ya don¡¯t need any help with that.¡± We stood in the underground tunnel and watched Jellybee carve out a new doorway in the middle of the hall, while I helped Dust. There wasn¡¯t a whole lot of room for Jimbo-no to maneuver. He would have just gotten in the way without having any sort of Digging Skill. So he aptly took on the role of a typical construction work supervisor. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to tell you. The notifications were insistent,¡± I replied. He shrugged. ¡°Ya know you don¡¯t have to actually spend all your level up points at once, right?¡± ¡°Yes, I knew that. It seemed important. Besides, there¡¯s more to just Fire here. There¡¯s also, uh¡­¡± ¡°A lot,¡± Jellybee finished my sentence for me. And a lot there were. I expected an orderly, alphabetical list of options. Or maybe a periodic table of elements. Instead, I got a whole web of options, with lines connected between different Elements. It looked like a forest of trees with interlocking branches of lines. Or a horribly inefficient and difficult to decipher bus route (cough cough Miami cough). It was overwhelming to see zoomed out and I couldn¡¯t read any of the words from that far away. Zooming in helped. Sort of. I had to slowly scroll all the way to the edge of the screen to look at another elemental tree. Or I had to zoom out entirely, then zoom back in to browse another section. I squinted at the subway station map that listed the Elements. There were so many. Of course, there were the classic Captain Planet Elements I expected, such as Water, Fire, and Earth. But most beyond that didn¡¯t make sense to me. There was Space, Time, Gravity, Dust, and Entropy. Along with Fire, Lava, Ash, Lightning, Thunder, and Bloodlust all relatively next to each other. It looked like the four horsemen were also present, since I skimmed past War and Pestilence. Each tree seemed to have a primary Element that branched up and outwards into more advanced options. For instance, the Water Affinity was at the bottom of one Affinity tree. It connected upwards to the words Frost, Mud, and Steam. Frost continued to link upwards to Ice, Stasis, and Preservation. Whereas Mud linked outward to another Affinity tree that began with a base of Earth. And Steam linked in the opposite direction towards Air. I fully recoiled in terror upon reading arguably the most evil of all the Affinities: Taxation. It was fittingly connected to Death. Oh no. I felt that familiar decision paralysis demon kicking in. Maybe I should have held off on taking this Power¡­ Jimbo-no scoffed. ¡°I know that look. Maybe ya should have asked the System for better eyes first.¡± I ignored his comment. ¡°Fetch me a piece of paper. And some sort of writing utensil. There should be an envelope on the bedside table upstairs.¡± He groaned. ¡°Ya really want me going all the way up there? I just got here. my knees are killing me.¡± ¡°Yes. Unless you¡¯d rather be on watch duty out on the porch.¡± He obliged with a grumble. ¡°Alright, boss. You got it.¡± He shuffled back up the stairs. I swore he was intentionally dragging his feet. While I waited for him to retrieve this notepad I closed my avatar¡¯s eyes and looked about for my other missing Minion using my Dungeon Core¡¯s sight. I didn''t want to twiddle my fingers in the darkness while trying to make small talk with Jellybee. He still seemed solemn over the whole Spinemess thing. I found it difficult to reassure him. I felt like a nurse informing a terminally ill patient''s family that a side effect of cancer treatment was that they might go bald. It was ultimately for their own good, long term. But it was still a difficult pill to swallow. I checked my hearth first. Then the garden, the porch, the roof, and finally... Ah, there she is. Between all that. Climbing up the tree next to the cottage. The one that Bedknob used to get to the roof. It seemed like today would be nice and warm, judging off the sunlight splattering across the bark. Bedknob seemed to agree, since he rolled awake in his little nest on the roof with a belly towards the sky. He yawned with an electric hum as he stretched out with his whole body. His fur crackled with static. Then fluffed out on end as if he had rubbed up against a balloon. He feverishly licked himself to manage the spiky strands. His grooming was interrupted by Tiptap playfully jumping onto him. Unsurprisingly, Bedknob yowled and bolted off the roof, vaulting himself into the wooded trees just beyond my Dungeon vision range. Tiptap waddled after him and happily gave chase at her own clumsy pace. She clearly thought they were playing a game of tag now. She followed all the way to the edge of the Dungeon where he had left, then softly bonked her head against the border. She cocked her head to the side. I smiled. I enjoyed seeing those two awkwardly interact with each other. I could equally perceive both of the cats while they roamed within my dungeon, yet for some reason only Bedknob was free to leave it at any time. I wasn¡¯t sure why Tiptap was considered a Minion in my menus, but Bedknob was not. From my point of view, the tomcat was just as equally ¡®monstrous¡¯ with his lightning abilities. He was arguably more dangerous than Tiptap, despite her scary appearance. I sighed. Yet another mystery I didn¡¯t have time to figure out. Jimbo-no returned with the dusty envelope and a piece of fresh charcoal. I read out loud the base Elemental Affinity of each tree to him and he jotted it down. The more advanced options beyond that were ignored. Writing down each and every single Affinity would have taken forever, so it seemed logical to focus on the primary Elements and see which one sounded best, then go from there. After I finished reading out the hefty shopping list, Jimbo-no flipped the envelope around. Oh for pity¡¯s sake! I should have known. ¡°You can¡¯t write, can you?¡± ¡°Nada. I ain¡¯t got one of them fancy edumacations.¡± Instead, he had scribbled down a confusing mess of hieroglyphic emoji symbols. At one point he had run out of room, so he had drawn over some of the previous symbols. Yet somehow he had saved enough room in the corner for a badly drawn penis. Jimbo-no beamed happily. I Mana Dusted the paper in his hands. ¡°Hey! That was art!¡± ¡°No, that was a waste of time. And we don¡¯t have time to waste if I need to be strong enough to survive our first invasion today.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t see the big deal. Just pick whatever sounds nice.¡± Jellybee chimed in. ¡°Like Death. Death sounds nice.¡± ¡°Get over yerself, Jellybee. But actually yeah, what he said. Or if ya want to fix things up quick, pick Wood. Wood would be good.¡± ¡°Heh. Wood would,¡± Jellybee repeated to himself. ¡°Look, ya really can¡¯t go wrong with any choice,¡± Jimbo-no said. ¡°The System is, for the most part, somewhat balanced. If it sounds broad, it¡¯ll have a lot of use. The more specific it sounds, the more powerful it will be, but narrower in practice.¡±If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. I huffed. ¡°Easy for you to say. I don¡¯t know what half of these do. What kind of useless power is Heart? How does Electromagnetism even work? And what the hell is¡­¡± I pushed my avatar¡¯s glasses against my eyes and read out loud, ¡°¡®Weak Nuclear Force?¡¯¡± Both the skeletons blanched. I swear their bones turned whiter in the dark tunnel. Jimbo-no spoke in a quiet voice. ¡°The name is a lie. For all our sake, please pretty please with sugar on top pretend ya never saw that option.¡± ¡°It is Hell,¡± Jellybee whispered. The flames in his eyes had grown distant, near the back of his skull. His gaze was elsewhere. ¡°Well¡­ Okay then¡­ Noted.¡± I coughed into my fist. ¡°See what I mean? What if I make a horrible choice like that?¡± ¡°Point taken,¡± Jimbo-no said. ¡°Didn¡¯t any tooltips pop up when you looked at any of them?¡± ¡°The what-tips?¡± ¡°Tooltips,¡± Jimbo-no said. ¡°Friendly looking boxes,¡± Jellybee added. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so. I may have had those disabled by accident.... But I guess it won¡¯t hurt to look. Yeah, no, there¡¯s nothing. I don¡¯t see anything else when I look at the Affinity for Weak Nucl-¡± Both of them screamed, ¡°DON¡¯T!¡± ¡°Just kidding. When I look at, um¡­¡± I scrolled over, finding something that was suggested to me previously. ¡°When I look at the Affinity for Water, there¡¯s nothing else there. Just the word on screen.¡± Jimbo-no leaned back against the tunnel wall and crossed his arms. He looked to be in thought. ¡°Is there some sort of drop down menu?¡± ¡°A what?¡± ¡°An arrow. Thingy.¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°A question mark? In a circle?¡± ¡°A sandwich?¡± Jellybee asked. ¡°You mean a hamburger?¡± I asked. ¡°What¡¯s a hamburger?¡± Jellybee asked. Jimbo-no motioned down and then sideways with his hands. ¡°Vertical lines? Horizontal?¡± ¡°Wobbly?¡± Jellybee asked. He wiggled the pick-axe in his hand. Then smacked it against the dirt wall before him. ¡°No,¡± I snapped. ¡°There¡¯s no damn lines or anything at all.¡± My tone was sharper than I intended.. Jimbo-no held up his hands. ¡°Look, if ya want our help then don¡¯t bite our heads off. I don¡¯t got a clue what you¡¯re seeing. I don¡¯t got a Dungeon menu guide handy. But some things in the System are universal. So we¡¯re doing what we can.¡± Good lord, this was frustrating. It felt like fixing the time on a VHS player all over again. Except my tech savvy niece wasn¡¯t here to help this time. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s come over me. This is all very new to me and very unpleasant and technology was a mistake and I don¡¯t want to do any of this.¡± My apology devolved into whining. I didn¡¯t give a tinker¡¯s damn. ¡°This shouldn¡¯t be this hard.¡± Jellybee rubbed his chin. ¡°Is ¡®Fae¡¯ blue?¡± ¡°The text?¡± I zoomed in as far as it would let me. I couldn¡¯t tell. The only real light in the tunnel was from their eyes and my ghostly blue avatar. Neither were bright enough to clearly distinguish colors. ¡°Maybe. Be back in a spell.¡± I Soul Strolled away to the Garden. A moment passed. ¡°So...Jellybee. Seen any cool rocks?¡±Jimbo-no asked. Jellybee reached down and held up a flat piece of slate with a white splatter outline in the corner. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°Fossilized dung. I think.¡± ¡°That¡¯s neat.¡± I Soul Strolled back to them. ¡°Why yes. It is indeed Blue. What does that mean?¡± Jimbo-no replied, ¡°It means ya can long tap on it to get more information. Before ya make a choice. Just be careful not to double tap.¡± I did just that. And lo and behold, we were getting somewhere. A notification box popped up, covering most of the Affinity tree menu: The message was followed by a second, smaller box below that one: ¡°It worked!¡± I said. ¡°Nicely done!¡± Jimbo-no clapped softly. Jellybee cheered over his shoulder. ¡°So how do I go back?¡± Water seemed nice. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was exactly what I was looking for though. I didn¡¯t like the idea of accidentally drowning myself. And where would I keep a Kelpie? ¡°Try gently giving her a little love tap anywhere outside the information box. Very carefully. Sneak a little caress in between the words, on an empty part of the screen,¡± Jimbo-no replied. ¡°Unless, of course, you want that choice. But ya might as well window shop.¡± That suggestion of his also worked. I scrolled over and long pressed on another Affinity that Milly had recommended before: Ooh, creepy. Not sure if I liked that. Granted, there was a lot in that description that I did like too. I mentally bookmarked this Element as a possibility, then tapped back. I long pressed on Fire. I tapped away before I even finished reading the description. Honestly not sure why I expected otherwise. I scrolled for a while. Then came upon one that was mighty curious, if only due to how dull it sounded. Connection? That sounded¡­ generic. A fireball was an easy enough spell for me to understand. But I couldn¡¯t picture myself casting a hypothetical ¡¯Connectionball.¡¯ Was ¡®Connection¡¯ even an Element? I long pressed the blue word. A text box appeared: I raised an eyebrow. Affinity of Affinity, huh? What utter gobbledygook. I read on. <¡­While closely related to the Elemental Affinity of Bloodlines and the Elemental Affinity of Affinity, the Element of Connection stands apart on its own. Like a patchwork quilt, Connection brings others together while encouraging independence. It is the heirlooms we-> There was a knock at the door. I jumped in surprise. Somebody was here? Adventurers? ALREADY? How could I be so blind! I had spent so much focus on figuring out tech support that I had forgotten everything else. Fear raced through my mind. I redirected my focus to the porch. The young witch cosplay girl was back. She was leaning over the log, knocking against the open door, and calling into the house. Thankfully, the man that accompanied her yesterday was nowhere to be seen. Then I realized something else that curdled my ghostly blood. I had a third notification on my screen, below the text box descriptions: Oh shit fire and apple butter! When I jumped I had accidentally double tapped on the screen. Chapter 20: There’s No Place Like Home Chapter 20: There¡¯s No Place Like Home Bonny Kettleflar¡¯s sleep was unsurprisingly restless. Her nightmares were filled with the undead. The walking dead followed after her between each heartbreak in life. They pursued her through cities, countrysides, and farmlands. An endless chase she couldn¡¯t escape. She awoke, dampened by sweat, to the crowing of roosters. The sun wasn¡¯t even out yet! One rooster in particular, with a frosty blue colored crest, had taken up residence beneath her room¡¯s window at the Hearth and Tav''. He had deemed this a good spot for his beautifully annoying birdsong. It was certainly unique. Each crow call started off with gradual cracking noises that turned into sharp bellows. Like carefully stepping onto the ice over a lake before taking a running jump into breaking the entire surface. All mixed into the noise of a rooster call. His crow was so loud and distinctive that she took a peek out the window just to make sure the place wasn¡¯t being attacked by some sort of early-bird ice mage. Bonny was half tempted to throw the rooster into the FarWide, to meet the same fate as the pillow. She had a feeling the denizens wouldn¡¯t appreciate all those feathers though. And, truthfully, she would have felt bad. It was in the Rooster¡¯s nature to be annoying, after all. She had to get used to it. Ideally, this would be a part of each of her mornings going forward. As long as the adventurers from neighboring towns deemed this Dungeon a threat big enough to handle soon enough. Despite the sheer exhaustion, that thought kept her up. That Dungeon was her home. Adventurer¡¯s weren¡¯t exactly known for their ability to handle scenarios with tact. Brill, though long retired, was a perfect example of that. When the sun finally rose, she got up and got dressed for the day. It was less of a concrete decision and more like a mechanical motion for her. Like her mind needed some semblance of control, so her body took over. She pulled on a wool sweater and simple trousers. She adorned a deep red riding cloak with a hood, its edges trimmed with black. She opted to leave her hat off, not wanting to draw attention to herself in the early hours. She already had a feeling she might with the color of her cloak, but she didn¡¯t have anything else on hand. It was a fashionable gift from Louie before she left. Oh, Gods, Louie, Bonny thought to herself. What would Louie say about this? She¡¯d say I was being an idiot. The thought of worrying Louie almost caused her to curl back up into bed. Bonny shook her head. No, this was for Louie¡¯s sake too. She had encouraged Bonny¡¯s dream. Bonny dug into her luggage, throwing out everything about the room, seeking out a few items she had packed deep away. To be fair, she didn¡¯t think she would need them until after she had set up shop. She also pulled out a hard wooden case that contained several small objects. The first being a pair of spectacles. Her Scan Skill automatically kicked in. Words hovered in place above them, identifying them as Line-Read Glasses. Instead of having see-through glass that amplified vision, these reading glasses were fractured into various colored panes, like stained glass windows. She placed them upon the bridge of her nose, confirming that yes, it was still early morning. She forgot about how terrible these were to look through. They darkened the claustrophobic room even further, into shades of dark red, blue, and green. She couldn¡¯t see anything clearly. Except for the one single thread of light that shone brightly through the green pane of glass in front of her right eye. There was that Leyline she interacted with last night, clearly visible like a thin beacon, situated inside the wall of her room. The next object was a tiny pair of scissors in a bronze sheath. Being inherently magical, her Scan also activated, identifying these as Line-Edit Blades. She pulled the scissors free from its protective case, like a pair of layered swords, then went over to the wall. She opened the scissors, activated her Control Cut Skill, then snipped in front of the Leyline thread. A spectral white light from both scissor blades slashed into the wall, only visible through her glasses, leaving the wall undamaged, yet the Leyline severed. The threads drooped, no longer pulled taut by whatever distant force compelled them into shape. Test complete, she set aside the final object, a small copper spyglass. The words, Far-Scan Scope, hovered above them. These quarters were too cramped to test out this one. She attached all of them upon leather belt loops, feeling somewhat closer to a proper adventurer. Now if only she had a proper weapon now¡­ Bonny only knew of one in the whole town so far. And she doubted Brill would let her borrow it. Instead, she placed the deed within her pocket. She patted at it. This would be good enough. She threw everything back into her luggage haphazardly, locked the door, and then slid a note under Mally Tav¡¯s door. Bonny hoped she would be back to pick up her luggage before Mally woke up, but just in case, this note was insurance in case she failed and still needed a place to stay. And insurance in case Brill came looking for her. The crisp air outside greeted her, along with the noisy frost cock. She shot him a dirty look. He squawked in response, like he was somehow annoyed by her presence, then sauntered off to peck at the dirt. There was some activity at the start of the day, but less than Bonny actually expected. The actual town of Poppymill was concentrated within roughly only a few square miles, though it was extended greatly beyond that distance through various acres of owned lands such as farms, orchards, and hunter lodges.She guesstimated that the town had a population of maybe two to three thousand people, max. A significantly smaller population than the cities up north that Bonny had previously lived in. Her college ¡®town¡¯ had neighborhoods bigger than Poppymill. But wasn¡¯t that what she was trying to get away from? She began her steep trek up the hill, making sure to avoid the part of town where her uncle resided. She didn¡¯t want to accidentally run into him. When she got near the cottage, she also intentionally steered away from the path leading up to it. Instead, she gave it a wide berth, going around to the back of the cottage and up a large hill that overlooked it. Here she couldn¡¯t see much of the front and quite a bit of her view was blocked by the wooded area, but she had a somewhat clear line of sight to the backyard. And more importantly, any Leyline activity. She adorned the Line-Read Glasses, then brought the Far-Scan Scope to her right eye. Wearing both of these items always felt awkward, but she needed to scout out the Dungeon before she made any brash decisions. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Sure enough, there were taut Leylines in the ground and air, leading to the cottage. Whether there were more of them compared to yesterday, she didn¡¯t know. She hadn¡¯t exactly expected her new home to be a Dungeon, after all. But there were less Leylines than she expected. Which was a good sign. That possibly meant the Dungeon wasn¡¯t close to Breaking any time soon. Beyond that, she wasn¡¯t sure. While the Line-Read Glasses could somewhat see through solid objects, the Scope couldn¡¯t. Any underground activity would be hidden from her. She surveyed the backyard area. Words crossed her vision for a moment. She took off the Glasses, then put the Scope back to her eye to get a better view of the Minion she spied. [TIPTAP, UNDEAD SHADOW CAT (LVL 1)] It wasn¡¯t exactly what she was expecting. It was a skeletal house cat with a faint shadowy aura. The name was concerning. Only intelligent Dungeons were known to give their Minions names. But that usually didn¡¯t happen until the Minions were at higher levels. The behavior of the Minion was also concerning. It was repeatedly walking into the Dungeon boundary. It would hit its head, sit on its haunches or tilt its head to the side, then walk into the boundary again. Bonny felt bad for the little creature. Such a low level Minion shouldn¡¯t be trying to Break the Dungeon, right? She lowered the Far-Scan Scope and thought for a moment. Bonny had not done much Dungeon delving within her life. The few excursions she had done as a teen under supervision. She had been accompanied by experienced adventurers in heavily curated Dungeons. As such, her knowledge of them was limited by what she had learned during those tours, through school textbooks, or through general folklore. But she knew the intelligence levels of Dungeons could vary greatly. She had heard stories of Dungeons with alien minds that bordered on the edge of madness. Those could be some of the most dangerous. Attempts to communicate with them could result in broken minds. These alien Dungeons would seek to consume and build rapidly without any sense of real goal, spreading like a plague. Or they would lay dormant for centuries, slowly accumulating power in one central location until somebody stumbled upon them. The oddly repetitive actions of such a seemingly weak Minion, Tiptap, gave her the impression that this could also be a very young Dungeon. Or a very stupid one. Did the Dungeon come up with the name by imitating a sound it had heard? The appearance of a faintly blue figure in the backyard interrupted her thoughts. She only noticed the figure due to the sun peeking over the mountain, reflecting light off the planetary belt. That gave her just enough light to see by at this distance. She placed the Scope back to her eye. It was the ghost again. The one that looked like a defenseless grandmother. No words appeared over the grandmother¡¯s head. Bonny¡¯s Scan ability didn¡¯t activate. The same thing happened yesterday. At the time, Bonny figured it was because the ghost was beyond her level. While Bonny¡¯s Scan Skill wasn¡¯t the best, it worked for the most part. It had activated when she saw the other two undead Minions yesterday and it worked just now with Tiptap. Even if Scan didn¡¯t give her much detail, the Skill wouldn¡¯t fail to identify a monster unless that monster was completely beyond her capacity to handle it. Or unless the monster actively suppressed her Skill, which was also generally a sign of a higher level. Which was why Brill, being an experienced adventurer who also had Scan, immediately went on the attack and focused upon retreat. In his eyes the ghost was a huge threat. But what if it wasn¡¯t? Bonny crept closer, shimmying down the hill to get a closer look. She placed the Scope back to her eye, watching to see if the ghost did anything. The only exception Bonny could think of for why her Scan wasn¡¯t activating was because the ghost wasn¡¯t actually a monster. Which meant it could be an illusion. A trick. She got closer. Illusions, when Scanned for long enough, tended to dissipate. Especially when they were suspected to be an illusion. After watching it for a moment, nothing happened. Bonny realized this could be a Dungeon avatar. Which, again, which made sense. And also made her confused. A stupid Dungeon Core wouldn¡¯t be able to communicate like the older woman did. And Dungeon Core¡¯s didn¡¯t usually select avatar Powers if they were young. It was a giant opportunity cost and a waste of limited resources that could be better spent on defense or expansion. Most recorded instances of avatars were when Dungeons became large enough to require them for interaction with intelligent species. At which point the Dungeon could be considered a foreign nation capable of trade and warfare. The grandmother, once again, interrupted Bonny¡¯s thoughts by turning her head to look right at Bonny. The elderly woman peered right through the Scope, squinting in the sunlight. She spoke something that Bonny couldn¡¯t quite hear. Something about¡­the color blue? Then the woman let out a cackle before disappearing. Bonny¡¯s blood ran cold. The Dungeon knew she was here. The skeletal cat, Tiptap, continued to softly bonk against the Dungeon boundary. Bonny sighed, gathered up her courage, and approached the front porch. She clambered through the wreckage of the porch roof that had collapsed, picking her way bits of thatch and splintered wood. The same message from yesterday appeared: The Dungeon most certainly knew she was here now. No point in being sneaky anymore. Every good trade deal happened when one was direct and asked for what they wanted. It was time for business. She unsheathed the Edit Blades and held them before her with one hand, then she leaned over the fallen log, and knocked against the open door with the other hand. Bonny called out. ¡°Anybody home?¡± There was a moment without a response. Then what sounded like muffled cursing from somewhere deeper within the home, followed by the stomping of steps and a flurry of activity. ¡°Just a minute!¡± An older woman''s voice called from within. ¡°I¡¯ll be there in just a jiffy!¡± There was a long delay. The grandmother ghost appeared before her in the doorway. Somehow looking to be out of breath. She leaned against the doorway and clearly forced a smile. ¡°Why, just the young lady I wanted to see again! I was just tidying up.¡± ¡°Are you the Merriweather Dungeon?¡± Bonny asked. She held the Line-Edit Blades at the ready. Just in case the Dungeon tried anything. The ghost didn¡¯t acknowledge them or even seem to notice. ¡°Call me, Ethel, please. I¡¯m afraid we got off on the wrong foot. Why don¡¯t you come on inside?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine here, thank you.¡± ¡°Ah, I see. Well, I assume you have much to discuss with me?¡± Bonny nodded. ¡°Quite the chatterbox, aren¡¯t we? Step inside! Oh, but you¡¯ll have to use the back entrance. As you can see,¡± Ethel gestured around, ¡°we¡¯re currently in the middle of renovating the porch.¡± Bonny stood there, not budging. She tightened her grip on the scissors. This felt like a trap. She wasn¡¯t sure what to say. She hadn¡¯t thought this far ahead. ¡°Oh you poor thing. I can tell you¡¯ve been through a lot. I¡¯ll meet you out by the pergola.¡± She faded away. Bonny breathed deeply. She could do this. She could handle a few skeletons, a house cat, and a grandmother ghost. She had faced worse odds in life. She walked around the back. Her legs felt stiff. She glanced around every which way, waiting for a trap to be sprung upon her. Ethel, true to her word, waited beneath the pergola with her hands clasped together at her waist. ¡°There you are. Don¡¯t be shy. Come on in.¡± She walked through the back entrance without waiting. ¡°I¡¯ll have Jellybee make some tea. He says he knows how to make a proper cup. You¡¯ll have to let me know if his confidence is placed correctly.¡± Bonny followed. Her anxiety spiked. She kept half an eye on the door, making sure she had an escape route. There clearly had been a fire recently. And there had clearly also been repairs. In the living area a hearth blazed with emerald WitchPyre. A black cauldron hung over the flames. Her Scan Skill identified it as a [Neverwatch Pot] with six hours left for cooking. Nothing dangerous would emerge in the meantime. That was a relief. Below that, there it was. The Dungeon Core. In all her defenseless glory. This had to be a trap. ¡°Take a seat and make yourself at home. Because, after all, my dear, this is your home,¡± Ethel arched an eyebrow and smiled, ¡°Is it not?¡± Bonny placed a hand upon the deed in her pocket. ¡°Yes. I have the deed right here. This is my home.¡± ¡°Splendid! Let¡¯s not beat around the bush. I want to discuss the terms of my employment.¡± Chapter 21: Loosey Goosey Chapter 21: Loosey Goosey I took a seat in a wooden rocking chair I just barely conjured up for the occasion with Gardencraft. Unfortunately, I wasn¡¯t able to find any seat cushions in my blueprint menus. But that didn¡¯t really matter. My Soul Stroll didn¡¯t need the padding. Nor could it actually rock the chair. It was all for the aesthetic. I motioned for her to sit on the other couch. Instead, she stood. There was a long pause as the young girl processed what I said. Then she asked, ¡°Terms of... employment?¡± ¡°Yuppers. You heard right! I dropped on by and couldn¡¯t help but notice your home was in need of a few repairs. Now, I know what you¡¯re thinking: I may look like an old geezer¨Cand that¡¯s because I am but I¡¯m actually as fit as a fiddle! With hands to spare. You won¡¯t find a better fixer upper this side of, dare I say, anywhere. All I ask in exchange is to be provided lodging for me and a few skeletons in the meantime.¡± The look on her face was priceless. I could see it even through those gaudy rainbow sunglasses she was still wearing indoors. I must admit, it was a devilish sort of fun to be so upfront with her. I enjoyed watching the girl¡¯s expression turn on a dime so quickly. The poor lass went from shaking to a leaf to utter dumbfoundment. It took me back. To the good old days, before I had to scrape by on social security and expired coupons to live on my own. At restaurants I would give young servers hell for the fun of it, then tip them well when they were a good sport. I could read this one like a book. The girl''s eyes narrowed and she took a step back. ¡°You¡¯re lying. I don¡¯t know what kind of trick this is, but I¡¯m not falling for it.¡± She said. She raised the tiny scissors she carried again and stepped into a defensive stance. Well, maybe I couldn¡¯t read her that well¡­ To be fair though, the odds were against me in the first place. Speaking of which, what odds did she bring against me? Those scissors were quite curious. What good would those tiny blades do against rock and bone? My Core hungered to know. That buried instinctual drive crept back to the forefront of my mind. I had pushed down all those emotions that weren¡¯t mine when the girl came knocking, but I let this emotion simmer on top. I had to agree with it. Knowledge was valuable. I had to know if those scissors were dangerous. Or if they were the only weapon she happened to have on hand. I gave into the urge and tried to take a closer peek at the small tool. But then Dungeon sight suddenly became all blurry. Like a smudge across my glasses appearing when I tried to read the fine print. I was undeterred. I wondered if I could get a closer look using my Leyline Stitching Skill? I casually activated it, twirling a single thread around a finger. ¡°My dear, I know you came back here for a reason. Presumably to kick me out. Which you¡¯re more than justified in doing. I won¡¯t be able to stop you. My Core is right there. I have no traps protecting it. No Minions. What kind of tricks would I be able to pull in this situation?¡± As I said this, I Stitched a Leyline thread towards the scissors to get a closer look. As soon as it got in range, she sliced out with the scissors, and snipped the thread. Even with the girl''s counterattack, the system still rewarded me for the attempt. The disconnected Leyline unraveled into pure Mana smoke. And the thread attached to my finger fluttered uselessly to the ground. Well, that explained it. Good to know. The Mana smoke began to drift towards my Core. She glanced at my Core. Then her eyes crackled with that green fire again. Instead of the Mana drifting towards me, it drifted towards her eyes. The blaze in her built. The pressure in the air plummeted. She was going to cast a spell. My Core instincts screamed. I was in danger. The girl glanced at my Core again. I felt a spike of fear. I was exposed. Undefended. Caught with my drawers down and my bloomers flashin'' to all the world to see. I had to defend myself. I had to call for my Minions. I had to activate my Brittle Bone Aura. Anything! No. Those instincts were wrong. They were going to get me in trouble. These are not my thoughts! This was not some greedy invader. This was a child! I was never the sort of person that would hurt a child, especially one in need. That would not change in this lifetime or the next. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Besides, despite her sense of fashion, I had to say I admired this one for her bravery. The impression I got from my few interactions in this world was that Dungeon Cores were deserving of their bad reputation. My learning experience so far was the equivalent of fiddling around with a TV remote, only to accidentally discover that the big red ¡®select¡¯ button could directly order a bathtub or gun for free. And there were certainly a lot more buttons on the remote I hadn¡¯t tried out. I could only begin to imagine the kind of power I could wield if I only knew what the hell I was doing. This was further evident by the hidden drive that underlay my thoughts, pushing me to destroy and create for profit. Ceaselessly. With no end goal in mind. That was the sort of evil that tumbled civilizations. No wonder I put the fear of God in her. I had to give her kudos for walking into the belly of the beast alone. It would have been a stupid choice if I wasn¡¯t so generous. And a touch desperate. With deliberate effort, I slowly stood from the rocking chair. ¡°Okay. Yes. You¡¯re wise to not trust me. But you have to believe I¡¯m telling the truth.¡± With steady, deliberate, and glacial movement I came to kneel upon the ground. I bowed my head. ¡°I really am a lost old lady in this world. I have nowhere else to go. Even if I did, I wouldn¡¯t be able to survive on my own.¡± I decided to take the path of honesty. Mostly. I worked my magic in the background. I had one contingency plan in mind. I mean, I genuinely did want to work for her, but let¡¯s be realistic here. I was inches away from possibly being destroyed. As a general rule I had learned to never trust any teenagers. That also included young college students. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡± She struggled with the words. ¡°What would¡­ Why would I want a Dungeon in my home?¡± ¡°You can do with me as you please. You would have full access to the house, including my Core. At any point you could smash my Core or send me off on my way. I fully intend to repair the damages, then pay off my debts to my Minions. Until then, you can consider me as some sort of, say, live-in nanny. I''ll defend your home against any undead armies or monsters or people that might try to bring harm to the home.¡± I raised my head and met her eyes. I sprinkled in just a spoonful of puppy-dog eyes. ¡°I swear it on my dear Gram Gram¡¯s grave.¡± The girl frowned and bit her lip. She took a deep breath. ¡°You said undead armies? That seems¡­ awfully specific...¡± ¡°Oh, yes. That reminds me! Tea!¡± I called out. ¡°Jellybee, be a dear and bring the tea up here! How do I put this¡­You know those skeleton Minions of mine?¡± The girl nodded. A mushroom hat adorned the skeleton gingerly stepped up the stairs, carrying something in his arms. The witch girl¡¯s eyes blazed and a green emerald orb of fire burst into her unoccupied palm. She held it poised at the ready as if she were going to throw it like a baseball. ¡°Now, now. Let¡¯s behave.¡± I stood and dusted off my clothes. ¡°I won¡¯t have you hurting my helper. Especially when he¡¯s brought the tea finally. This here is Jellybee. Jellybee, meet¡­¡± I snapped my fingers. ¡°Oh, bother! Where are my manners? I don¡¯t think I caught your name, dear!¡± She lowered her hand upon confirming with her eyes that the skeleton was carrying a full platter of tea cups with both hands. The platter jostled and tea spilled everywhere. She fidgeted for a moment. I quickly reassured her. ¡°I¡¯m not a fairy. Or whatever you people here call it. I can¡¯t use your name against you. But I will eventually need a name if we are to have a working relationship.¡± Sheepish and blushing, she replied. ¡°Err¡­ Bonny.¡± Jellybee saluted with one hand and jerked his spine straight. Two teacups fell off the platter and shattered on the ground. ¡°Pleasure to be of service, madam Bonny!¡± Well done, Jellybee. Just as we practiced. A perfectly upstanding citizen. Very nonthreatening. If only he hadn¡¯t taken so long to figure out how to enter the pantry and find the tea leaves. Where did he find the tea set though? ¡°Bonny. What a lovely name. This here is one of my few Minions. One of three. Er, five now, technically speaking. You may have become acquainted with him earlier. I assure you, he means well. Jellybee here was part of a much larger army before I volunteered him into helping me with the household chores.¡± Jellybee handed Bonny one of now half filled teacups. She stared at it suspiciously. I assured her. ¡°It¡¯s not poisoned.¡± Probably. I hoped it wasn¡¯t. I wouldn¡¯t put it past him. Bonny took a cautious sip. And immediately spat it out with a cough. She made a disgusted face and glared scissors at him. I sighed. ¡°The tea is cold, isn''t it?¡± Bonny and Jellybee nodded at the same time. ¡°Ice tea. As requested,¡± he said. ¡°Jellybee, dear, there''s no ice in that tea.¡± ¡°Correct,¡± Jellybee stated. ¡°My apologies. The ice box was fresh out.¡± Bonny disposition finally broke. She let out a stifled snort of laughter. ¡°I think I see what you mean. You¡¯re all a fucking mess.¡± Jellybee held a broken teacup towards the bubbling cauldron hanging over the hearth. ¡°No, that¡¯d be him.¡± He took a sip. Tea spilled down his neck and ribs, leaving a trail of sticky loose leaf flakes. She laughed again. ¡°Okay. Fine. I¡¯ll consider it. I get to keep my home, truly?¡± ¡°Truly.¡± ¡°Promise me this is not a trick. Seriously. Or so help me.¡± ¡°Pinky promise. Cross my heart, hope to die.¡± I held out a raised pinky. She cocked her head to the side. ¡°You¡¯re not from around here. Are you?¡± She asked. ¡°¡®Fraid not, love. I got off the wrong bus, so to speak." ¡°I don¡¯t know what that means either.¡± ¡°It means I¡¯m bound to my word. Do we have a deal?¡± I asked. ¡°As long as I get to set the terms, yes. We have a deal,¡± Bonny said. She held out a hand. I shook it. A long serpentine hiss resounded from the basement. Followed by screaming. And ferocious, deep honking. ¡°Great. So here¡¯s the thing¡­ I¡¯m putting all my cards out on the table. Right as you showed up I activated my newest Minion from my Affinity. Don¡¯t go down the stairs. There¡¯s a giant velveteen goose golem on the loose. Her name is Lucie. And it would seem she¡¯s out for blood.¡± Bonny¡¯s complexion drained into a somehow paler tone. I breathed a sigh of relief. ¡°Phew. That feels good to get off my chest.¡± Chapter 22: Take a Gander Chapter 22: Take A Gander Bonny looked at me aghast. I winced as Jimbo-no let out another scream. ¡°You invited me in for tea? Then summon a new monster? I knew this was a trick!¡± ¡°No, I summoned the monster first. As backup in case you took a more aggressive approach to castle doctrine. Then I invited you in for tea. The only one playing tricks is God giving me half a brain.¡± Look, in my defense, I kind of expected negotiations to go south. Again. I figured, hey, check out these new digs. There were guests at the door and I had unlocked a Power that I could show off. The recipe description said I would get one free starter Minion. I figure, why look a gift goose in the mouth? Why not summon a new Minion to help defend me, just in case? I wouldn''t have to worry about spending extra time or Mana making it. Might as well feed the bugger a little somethin¡¯ extra. So, as the creature Stitched itself into existence, I fed it a hefty heaping of Mana to make it grow big and strong. How was I supposed to know what kind of Minion a Domovoy could be? And can you blame me for not being intimidated by the thought of a plush rabbit or mohair teddy bear golem? So I thought to myself, I''ve got mere moments to decide. What''s the best thing on this list? Geese. Geese can put up a fight! And I think to myself, I''ve got this lovely antique gold thread from some of the upholstery. It''d be such a waste to not reuse that. Why not use velveteen for its body? Like that one children''s story with the rabbit and the skin horse? Maybe if in time, given enough love, the goose could become real. Then I answered the door. And yes, now I admit: I may have slightly underestimated what an extra 10 Mana marinade would do for a goose in the oven. It''s time to cook increased. Along with its size. And temperament. Jimbo-no called out from further below in the basement. His face appeared in the doorway. "I''m sorry, Cap! I can¡¯t hold her much longer! I don¡¯t think she likes the new room! No, let go of my leg, ya blasted bird!¡± His glowing green eye disappeared from view. There was the sound of bones scraping against the floor. ¡°No, put that back!¡± Jellybee took another sip of tea. ¡°You¡¯re right. This could use some honey,¡± he said. There was a smash. A crunch of bones. ¡°Ah, fuck! That was my good foot!¡± Another crash. ¡°She took one of them shiny swords off the wall! YA MIGHT WANT TO RUN!" A large shadow filled the doorway to the cellar. A pair of bright red eyes glimmered out of the darkness of the stairwell. A low hiss and the thuds of muffled footfalls emanated from the abyss. The stairs creaked in agony. An imposing shape stepped into the light of day. A stiff velveteen beak of golden thread emerged, clutching onto a blade that shivered with arcane energy. This was followed after by red button eyes, a tube-like neck, and a body made of crimson cloth. The creature was much larger than any goose had the right to be. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Lucie filled the stairwell. In all her plush splendor. A gander to behold. Without hesitation, Bonny lobbed a Witchpyre orb at the creature. With an uncanny degree of floppy precision, the velveteen goose sliced through the emerald fireball. The edges of reality frayed and splintered as the weapon''s edge cut through the projectile. And the ghostly fire shattered into mere sparks. In shock, Bonny raised her sunglasses. The blade¡¯s arcane energy grew brighter in intensity. Wonderful. No wonder the basement had been locked twice. Lucie found a magic sword. ¡°Shiver, the Snickersnack Sword? Are you kidding me, Ethel?¡± Bonny said. The creature chortle honked triumphantly, then continued to advance. Swaying back and forth on plushy legs that barely supported her, she squeezed through the trapdoor. ¡°Heya, Lucille,¡± Jellybee said to her. ¡°Care to join us for tea?¡± Lucie stood at full height. Her neck reached into the rafters. Thatching rained down around her as the sword cut through them with ease. She screeched and flapped her floppy wings. Like a chainsaw tied to an inflatable tube man. It was stupid. It was terrifying. I had regrets. Lucie''s head swung lazily back and forth, somehow gripping the sword without any teeth or tongue. Without an actual functioning musculoskeletal system, the plush golem would lack any solid internal support to hold it upright at all times. That is, unless it was powered by magic. Which it was. Due to my Affinity to Connection, Lucie was basically animated through clever Leyline Stitching that was currently beyond my Skill level. It was along the same lines of the magical tomfoolery that held together my other minions. That, plus a helpful, heaping spoonful of demonic energy I guess I should have paid more attention when the Minion recipe mentioned it might bind a demonic soul to the golem. Whoops. "What is it with me and birds today?" Bonny muttered. "Here''s my first rule for working here: no killer birds inside the house. Ethel, can you tell your Minion to drop the sword? Send it back. To whatever pit it came from." Before I could answer, Lucie whipped out with her limp noodle neck, splintering the fabric of reality with its passing. Jellybee ducked for cover. Bonny barely dodged the attack. ¡°Ethel! I thought we had a deal!¡± ¡°We do! Lucie, down girl!¡± I stomped my foot, folded my arms, and gave her my most intimidating grandma glare. She ignored me. Lucie''s pendulum danger noodle neck swung back for another murder attempt. Why, I never! I couldn''t believe it. In all my years! My glare didn¡¯t work on her? ¡°Bonny, RUN!¡± I yelled. The girl didn''t need to be told thrice. As soon as she had the chance, Bonny took off running through the back door. A trumpeting chorus of angry honks followed after. I Soul Strolled in front of Lucie. "Lucille Squall! Stop right this instant! Bonny is not an invader! We''re safe now, you hear?" She didn''t. The goose barreled through me and continued through the door, into the backyard. She pursued the young girl at top speed, neck and peck flopping about in the wind, paying no heed to my words. Tree branches severed and snapped in her wake, leaving a trail of murderous rampage. Bonny screamed over her shoulder. "Ethel, as the new master of the house, I command you to do your job and save me! Stop this creature!" She booked it for the area of the garden where Tiptap had recently been, next to the boundary. "I''m trying! I don''t know how!" I continued to Stroll ahead several more times to try stopping her with my presence. And each time Lucie clumsily tumbled through my avatar, blind with rage, hellbent on annihilating this perceived threat. The level gain didn''t help at all. Bonny narrowly ducked beneath a sword swipe. "It¡¯s your Minion! You created it! Figure it out!" "She won''t listen to me!" "That''s because you gave her a name! By doing that you gave her independence!" ¡°I didn¡¯t know that would happen! I like naming my pets!¡± Bonny dived beyond my Dungeon range. She disappeared from my view. Safe for now. Hopefully. Lucie crashed against the boundary. She rebounded like an accordion, letting out a cacophony of honks. She flapped her wings, lashed out at the barrier with flabby feet, and hissed at it with a velvet fury. When the barrier refused to budge she began stalking the edge of the Dungeon. She whipped her neck out with the sword. Like a slinky, her neck bounced back. Thankfully, Lucie could not Break my Dungeon. With flaccid sword strikes, Lucie continue to test any spot she could for a sign of weakness. The invisible wall held. This goose would not get loose upon the world. Yet. Chapter 23: Laid Down to Rest Chapter 23: Laid Down to Rest Bonny was out of sight, but not out of mind. I had no idea how to handle this abomination I had created. I was down in manpower. Tiptap was just a cat, Jimbo-no had a broken foot now, Spinemess still needed time to cook, and Jellybee was, well¡­ Jellybee. ¡°Ethel, can you hear me?¡± Bonny called. ¡°Yes, I can.¡± ¡°Great. I¡¯m going to destroy this monster.¡± My instincts immediately recoiled at the idea. One of my Minions being killed didn¡¯t sit right with me. ¡°Just one moment. Let me think. There must be another way.¡± I frantically searched about through my menus for some way to save Lucie. A solution at all. One of my Skills? I couldn¡¯t physically stop her whatsoever using Soul Stroll. Knowing my luck, Leyline Knitting would probably only make her stronger. I looked at my latest status screen: MERRIWEATHER DUNGEON GEOBLOOM CORE (LEVEL 3) MANA CAPACITY: 4/20 MANA RENEWAL RATE: 2 MINIONS: 5 TRAP INTEGRITY: N/A LOOT VALUE: 2 + ? AVAILABLE SKILLS: LEYLINE KNITTING (LVL 4) GARDENCRAFT (LVL 4) MANA DUSTING (LVL 10) SOUL STROLL (LVL 4) UNLOCKED POWERS: BRITTLE BONES AURA ELEMENTAL AFFINITY (CONNECTION) PYREPLACE SIMMER SCRAPBOOK SOULSTEW TITLES: HOMEWRECKER Two new items of note appeared on my stat screen. Both were tabs, labeled ¡®Minion¡¯ and ¡®Loot¡¯ respectively: MINIONS: TIPTAP, UNDEAD SHADOW CAT (LVL 1) SPINEMESS, UNDEAD BONE MAGE (LVL 2) JELLYBEE, UNDEAD SKELETON SAPPER (LVL 3) LUCILLE SQUALL, DEMONIC PLUSH GOLEM (LVL 4) JIMBO-NO, UNDEAD SKELETON BRIGAND (LVL 6) Loot: ASSORTED CANNED GOODS NEVERWATCH POT SHIVER, SNICKERSNACK SWORD Well, that was nice to have. If useless to me at the moment. I know! I¡¯ll Mana Dust a pit beneath her. Or Gardencraft her a nice nest within a small home. One with thick walls and a heavy lock and¡­ Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. I stopped myself. Why? I wasn¡¯t attached to this beast. So far Lucille Squall had only proven that she was a danger to everyone else around her. Given enough time, she would escape from any enclosure I made for her. This was the kind of Minion that would put me on hit lists. ¡°Ethel. I need you to acknowledge me.¡± ¡°Okay, fine.¡± I sighed. ¡°Just please. Don¡¯t make her suffer.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t. I¡¯ll go for the neck.¡± **** Bonny placed the scissors in her belt and took a few steps forward to meet the lumbering creature. Her eyes continued to blaze green. She was beyond the reach of the Merriweather Dungeon. Only inches away. "Don''t set it on fire! We don¡¯t want the whole place going up in flames." "Again!¡± Added Jellybee. "I won''t." As much as she wanted to open a Link to the FarWide and send this demon to the depths to be torn to shreds, she restrained herself. She needed a lower level of firepower. One that she could control. One that wouldn''t reveal all her secrets to this Dungeon. Luckily, she had other tricks up her sleeves. And all the time in the world to perform the perfect ritual. Bonny rolled up her sleeves, revealing an identical small tattoo depicting a rabbit on the back of both hands. The rabbit tattoos mirrored each other, facing inwards. She crossed her hands before her, palms facing forward, causing the two tattoos to touch. Bonny activated her Control Copy Skill. ¡°What are you doing?¡± Ethel called. "I can''t see, remember?" ¡°Quiet,¡± Bonny replied. ¡°I¡¯m concentrating.¡± A pause. ¡°What¡¯s she doing, Jellybee? Be my eyes.¡± She then made a signing motion by flapping two fingers on each hand, bending them at the knuckles twice. She activated Control Paste. Suddenly, there were several more identical copies of the tattoo across her hands. Four new rabbits had appeared across her knuckles and fingers. She flapped her fingers twice again. ¡°Looks like sign language to me.¡± Four more grey rabbit tattoos appeared on her hands, her wrists, and parts of her lower arms. ¡°Looks like she¡¯s getting some sweet new bunny tats,¡± Jellybee said. ¡°I bet Jimbo-no would love that spell.¡± She repeated the motion. Over and over. Blotchy tiny rabbits quickly inked up her arm like sleeves, all the way to her shoulders. She pulled her hands back. She raised pointed fingers to the top of her ears. Then the witch began to repeatedly bounce on the balls of her feet while standing in place. Each time she bounced the rabbits, in unison, also took a singular hop down her hands and arms. Jellybee continued to narrate. ¡°Now she¡¯s, uh, yup. Looks like she¡¯s hopping like a bunny.¡± She continued to bounce. Each bounce further propelled the rabbit sleeves down her hands and arms. They Shifted up her chest, her neck, her face. And finally, up into her hair. In barely any time at all her dyed green hair turned a shade of grey. One lone rabbit on each hand remained. The original parents. The rest were all in her hair. Bonny bounced one final time. And all the grey ink hopped out of her hair and onto the ground. The splattered gray dye took shape in the dirt and soil. They rose upwards as mounds of fluffy fur made of ink, leaves, and dust. Bark and twigs formed ears. Pebbles formed eyes and noses. Shards of rock formed fangs. Soon enough, an entire warren of gray Dust Hares surrounded her. They faced forward, all eerily silent except for the occasional ear or nose twitch. "Bunnies! She brought bunnies! Can I pet them, Granny?" Bonny pointed at the Goose. Lucille let out a deafening battle honk. And the host of Hares surged forward as one, into the Dungeon. A bloodbath of fluff commenced. **** Lucille fought valiantly. Eventually the endless Hare horde overwhelmed her. She fell beneath one final cuddle puddle of death. A killer rabbit with sharp fangs got in a lucky strike and severed her neck clean off. She flopped about like a puppet with only a few strings, then lay still. My heart wrenched. This was the first time I had seen a monster die. And it was one of my own. I stepped across the fuzzy battlefield of cotton and fabric that had erupted. The garden was a mess. I placed a hand gingerly upon Lucille''s severed head. The fiery light from her button eyes died down. The Mana that I invested into Lucille did not return to me like I expected. Instead, a portion of that Mana transmuted into something¡­ different. It wasn¡¯t physical. Or even spiritual. I felt it fly itself through the barrier, towards the girl¡¯s presence. Bonny stepped through with an exhausted expression on her face. I couldn¡¯t read her level, but I had a hunch. The witch seemed somehow stronger now. I realized with a start that that was experience. Or at least what the system called EXP. This was how beings besides Dungeons could level up? By killing others? It seemed utterly barbaric. What kind of world rewards murder? Yet, somehow, I knew this wasn¡¯t Lucille Squall¡¯s end. Her demonic soul still lingered. It hungered to live again. To protect. To serve. To kill. I confirmed this by checking my status screen again. Yes. She was still listed there. In fact, Lucie had even gone up a level from the battle. Her torn body lingered upon the earth. A dirty matted mess of velveteen terror. One that still remained Connected to my Core. One that I knew I could easily repair when the right time arrived. For now, she¡¯d make for a fine bean bag cushion. I asked Jellybee to return the sword to its rightful place. And then in the background I began to Mana Dust and Gardencraft a more suitable nest for Lucille Squall within my Dungeon. Chapter 24: Stepping Out for a Breather Chapter 24: Stepping Out for a Breather At some point during all the mayhem I had received a notification about gaining some experience for repelling an invader from my Dungeon. It wasn¡¯t a lot. In fact, the font message seemed smaller than usual. As if written in fine print to hide the notification. Curious. The system still recognized Bonny as an invader. Was it trying to tell me I would get diminishing returns on recurring individuals? Or was it confused on how to handle somebody that I now considered my employer? Either way, I had the feeling that this was a way of fixing an easily abusable loophole. Otherwise Dungeons would amass levels just by forcing people to play the Hokey Pokey. ¡°I¡¯m glad that¡¯s settled. Jellybee, care to give our esteemed host a tour of the facility?¡± I gave a small curtsy. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me, I must check on my other Minion in the basement.¡± Bonny protested. ¡°I¡¯d rather not.¡± Jellybee saluted. ¡°Certainly, ma¡¯am. On your right, you¡¯ll see the watering well. On your left¡­¡± Jellybee trailed off. Before I could Soul Stroll away, Tiptap strode up to me¨Cpurring loudly the whole time¨Ccarrying a dead Dust Hare in her maw. ¡°We have another cat! Oh! She¡¯s so pretty! Is she yours, Granny? What¡¯s her name?¡± She dropped the mangled bunny before my feet and beamed up at me with a loud trill. ¡°Very good Tiptap. What a fierce killer!¡± I patted her head. Through my ghost avatar I was able to physically feel the shadowy fur that overlaid her skeleton, but for some reason my ghost fingers passed right through her bones when I tried to give her a scratch under the neck. She didn¡¯t seem to mind. She brushed a shadowy cheek against me and weaved between my legs, purring up a storm. I hadn¡¯t even noticed Tiptap hunting in the garden. She was a sneaky one. Her newfound strength did catch my eye though. She had gone up to level two. Bonny stiffened upon seeing the feline critter. She took a step back, towards the barrier. A few of the Dust Hares that still meandered through the garden bounded up to her, forming a defensive wall between her and the cat. ¡°This one is harmless,¡± I assured her. ¡°She¡¯s been around all morning without causing a single problem. She kept my Core company last night.¡± Jellybee attempted to pet Tiptap on the spine, but she ducked low out of his range, then went back to twirling around my feet while purring. ¡°She¡¯s an undead.¡± Bonny stated it like that was all the explanation I needed.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°And? She¡¯ll make a great mouser. Won¡¯t you, Tiptap?¡± I gave her another pet. She trilled in response. ¡°I don¡¯t know what kind of place or ¡°bus¡± you came from, but from where I¡¯m from we destroy the undead on sight. For good reason.¡± I hummed. ¡°From where I¡¯m from, I imagine people would do the same. Given the chance.¡± I thought back to all the fairly recent history I had lived through. There were still quite a few folks around my age back home that would gladly kill another person for their skin color or how they dressed. All they needed was a ¡®reasonable¡¯ excuse. ¡°But I believe those reasons aren¡¯t so reasonable. In the end, we¡¯re all the same underneath it all. Skin and bones, trying to get by.¡± Jellybee took a knee upon the ground and held out an open hand. Tiptap approached him slowly. ¡°No, you don¡¯t understand,¡± Bonny said firmly. ¡°The undead are a¡­ scourge. A disease.¡± I frowned at that. It was strange to see this kind of behavior from a youngin¡¯ like her. Must have had a poor upbringing on that family tree. Shame. Always a pity when that happens to good apples. ¡°She¡¯s right, Granny,¡± Jellybee spoke softly as he gave Tiptap scritches under her neck. ¡°We¡¯re contagious.¡± ¡°Hogwash,¡± I said. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t believe the lies people say about you, Jellybee. Let bigots be bigots. I think you¡¯re swell, regardless of how you look.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t bring Tiptap back from the dead.¡± He looked up at her from underneath his mushroom hat. ¡°I did. That¡¯s what we do. We spread. Like a plague.¡± ¡°Ethel. The original homeowner should have known better.¡± Bonny nodded towards the grave site. ¡°We don¡¯t bury our dead. We burn them. Or else they come back.¡± In the long run, I could see the implications of why that would be bad. How that could make a logistical mess out of any society. Or how some people would prefer to stay dead in the ground. But I also thought back to all the people I had missed throughout the years. How I still yearned to have conversations with those I loved long ago. How just one more phone call or night out to dinner with someone could settle so many regrets I carried. ¡°I still don¡¯t see the problem,¡± I said. ¡°I intend to keep these Minions. Good workers are always hard to come by.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have time to give you a full history lesson. Suffice it to say, years ago, the war to end all wars happened. Our world, as we knew it, also ended. The living ¡­ lost.¡± Jellybee looked down, still petting the cat. ¡°Lots of bodies to bury. Not enough bodies to bury them.¡± ¡°There was a... virus. It infected the Leylines. And spread to the souls of those that we lost before. The undead carry this curse with them wherever they go. And since then, we¡¯re still waging that war.¡± Bonny took a deep sigh and closed her eyes. She clenched her fists. ¡°I chose to move to Poppymill to get away from all that. I want to live a simple life. To get away from the Evergreen Ossarchy. To escape burning out from Witchpyre and overwork. To survive the mundane drudgery. And yet¡­¡± Tears welled in her eyes. ¡°I really can¡¯t escape it all, can I?¡± I didn¡¯t know what to say. I was more than out of my league. I was trying to play baseball when the rules were football. And I didn''t know how to play that game either. But I knew that sometimes, every once in a while, you didn¡¯t need to know all the rules to play the game. I didn¡¯t need to know everything. Or even say anything. I reached and enveloped her in an ethereal hug. For a moment, Bonny accepted the embrace. She stifled a sniffle, then she stepped through my arms. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. This is embarrassing. I¡¯m being stupid.¡± She took another step backwards, out of my Dungeon. ¡°I just need a breather. And to fetch my belongings. I¡¯ll be back. Thank you.¡± Chapter 25: Double Trouble Copycat Chapter 25: Double Trouble Copycat This time I paid attention to my notifications. There was nothing about gaining experience for making an invader leave my Dungeon. What gives, flight attendant lady? What do you mean I can¡¯t pay for my next membership milestone using this coupon I found on the ground? It¡¯s not expired! You mean to tell me I can¡¯t level up through the power of love and friendship? Baloney! Jellybee waved goodbye in the direction that the girl left and then looked up at me. ¡°I like her. Do you think she¡¯ll actually come back? I didn¡¯t finish my tour.¡± I chuckled. ¡°I think so, Jellybee. Beats me for how long she¡¯ll be gone though. In the meantime, let¡¯s make the best of it. Walk with me.¡± Jellybee scooped up Tiptap and followed along. I could have easily ended my Soul Stroll and basically teleported my avatar into the basement to check on Jimbo-no quickly, but I didn¡¯t see the rush. That boy could wait a while longer. I wanted to see what exactly needed to be done. Our priorities had shifted. Granted, I could have also Soul Strolled away and focused purely upon my arguably superior Dungeon sight to survey the cottage, but I simply did not want to. I wanted the perspective. With my own two eyes, on the ground, next to those that were personally affected by the changes I could make. Being a borderline omniscient being could be overwhelming and surprisingly distracting. I could easily get lost in my thoughts and lose touch with reality. I had the power to place myself in the perspective of a tree. Or down inside an anthill. Or just lay about on the roof like a lazy feline. It made me feel a bit of sympathy for my creator. If my Dungeon sight covered the whole entire world and I was given godlike control over the universe, I certainly don¡¯t think I¡¯d be able to answer any prayers in a timely manner. I¡¯d be too busy chasing after butterflies. Besides, at the end of the day, I was still a Dungeon Core. No matter what form my consciousness took. In the background I was vaguely aware of everything. Soul Stroll was primarily for communicating with others and giving me the illusion that I was still human. We stepped inside the house. I glanced at the wreckage of the home. We had made a lot of progress. But there was still so much work to be done. In hardly any time at all, Tiptap got fed up with being held and scrambled out of Jellybee¡¯s grasp. Only to scramble up his shoulder and take a short hop to perch upon his mushroom hat. She looked quite proud of herself for becoming so tall. I had to admire skeleton boy''s neck muscles. Er, I mean, spinal strength? Whatever voodoo it was, he was able to balance a lot upon that hard noggin. Which further explained to me why the common folk here might get all twitterpated violent or anxious around the walking dead. These four boney numbskulls of mine defied my suspension of disbelief so strongly that they might as well have been juggling it. I could only imagine what a competent bunch of bone soldiers could be capable of. I glanced at my Core. This was who I was. Beneath it all I was truly quite pretty, wasn¡¯t I? A magical mauve crystal that slowly drew in puffs of Mana like a creature breathed oxygen. Crazy to think that these people here got all up in arms over some geode that would have fit in perfectly on a shelf at the local mall back home. Like in one of those asian stores that sold tacky weapons and barely clothed fairy figurines. Beyond that, at first glance I was merely a big ol¡¯ lumpy rock sitting in the fireplace. Surrounded by ghostly green fire and a ghostly cat. I blinked. Where did this ghost cat come from? Woah. D¨¦j¨¤ vu. (Pardon my French.) I took a double take. The bony skeleton version of Tiptap was still on the mushroom hat. I was seeing double. As my avatar and Jellybee approached, the cat opened one ethereal eye to glance up at us. It got up with a big stretch, looked up at Tiptap, then cocked its head to the side. Tiptap and the ghost cat meowed at each other. They had an identical voice. Like an echo or recording. There were two¡­ Tiptaps? ¡°This day keeps getting better!¡± Jellybee exclaimed. **** Bonny Kettleflar felt like twenty-one fools. In so many ways she had felt like she had made mistakes. It was stupid to buy a home she''d never seen in a far off town she''d never been to. Stupid to try to enter it alone. Stupid to trust a Dungeon Core. Stupid to parley with the dead. And stupid to move into a dungeon when adventurers could be on the way to ransack the place. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Bonny had bought her first home. And it came with illegal immigrants and war refugees! From what she had heard, country folk considered those to be worse than Dungeons! How would the town react once news got out? Forget the adventurers: she¡¯d have a mob on her hands. They would be up here by the end of the day with pitchforks and torches. ¡°Agh, stop being dramatic! Get a hold of your thoughts, Bonny!¡± She told herself. ¡°Stop being judgemental. You don¡¯t know these people at all.¡± She sunk her butt on the road against a big oak tree, shut her eyes, and took five deep, slow breaths. In and out. It helped, but her thoughts still buzzed. She focused on the sensations around her. The feel of the soft sunlight, the slight breeze through her hair, and the dusty dirt beneath her palms. She could hear birdsong and the churn of windmills around her. And that was it. It was so quiet here. Peaceful. Serene. No vendors hawking their wares, no sirens, no train squeals, no boat horns, no city ruckus, no being on the lookout for danger around each corner¡­ The peace almost made her uncomfortable. She reminded herself that she was the foreigner here. This was also out of her element. She finally noticed she was still wearing the glasses over her eyes. She stored them away neatly. And just sat and watched. Scattered chimney smoke rose from bakeries and forges rose into the sky. The river glimmered like jewels in the distance, reflecting the rings above. She watched the town of Poppymill below finally wake up. Contrary to what she expected, not all small farm towns were active before the sun rose. The people had no need to rush about to get somewhere else. A quiet life could mean a quiet morning of sleeping in. Brill would be up soon. Or he might already be up. That thought shook her out of her momentary fugue state. Somehow, some of her mistakes were starting to work out. Not only could the Dungeon Core be reasoned with, but it was¡­ a fairly normal person. Granted, a person that might have come from some country she had never heard of and had an odd way of talking, but still! And she wanted to work for her? It was all too complicated and borderline to be some sort of trick. This was the real deal. Bonny stood up¨Cfinding her confidence again¨Cand set off down the winding roads that led into town. If she was quick she could intercept Brill before he handed off any letters towards Waye. With a little more luck, she could convince her uncle to come visit for tea. **** Content with how the exchange went, Tiptap¡¯s copycat spirit laid back down in the flames to curl around my Core. She closed her eyes and resumed her rest. Without a doubt, this was also one of my Minions. Regardless of how many Minions my stat screen said I had. I could feel it in my soul. I adjusted my glasses and peered through the green fire. This was Tiptap. No doubt about it. Another version though. One without any real bones. While the original Tiptap had a dark aura of shadow fur with white bones beneath, this one was the inverse. She had a white ghost aura of fur with a black skeleton composed of some sort of shadowy material. I realized that her skeleton was composed of tightly wound, black Leyline threads. Did I do this? Was this from her killing a Dust Hare on her own? Did she pick up some sort of copy ability? Or was this a natural result of the undead curse? Or did it really matter? I supposed it didn¡¯t at the moment. We had a lot to do and I didn¡¯t want to waste further time trying to puzzle out this seemingly harmless enigma. She wasn¡¯t bein¡¯ any trouble. So what if Tiptap could make herself double? Good for her! Ah, that reminds me. Initially we had stopped by here to ironically check on the Neverwatch Pot. I had guessed that over an hour had passed since the fluff battle. Sure enough, the timer on the cauldron had been updated to read as ¡°4.¡± Good to know. This world had a similar hourly system to Earth. That, or the System was translating everything to me to ease my poor addled brain. Moving on. The next logical step would be to carve out a new Dungeon Core room and have one of the boys relocate me. Even though our first crisis was supposedly averted, I still felt awfully exposed sitting out in the living room on the hearth. At least, that¡¯s what my instincts told me. In reality, I didn¡¯t really feel the need. Having an easily accessible Core was a sign of good faith to Bonny. I wanted her to be reassured with this arrangement. Besides,Tiptap and other Tiptap seemed to appreciate the location. It received a decent amount of sunlight through the window at certain times of the day. On the other hand, I couldn¡¯t get rid of that nagging voice in the back of my mind that I had to be prepared to ensure my safety. What tenant put their most prized possessions within sight of the entryway? Tenants and homeowners that wanted to get robbed, that¡¯s who. I Stitched between the earth of the hearth and the cellar room below, ensuring all the space in between was part of my Dungeon. I Mana Dusted a vertical space in between, giving me a few points of Mana to work with. I then repeated the same trap I had done in the tunnel earlier, setting up a solid layer of boards on the ceiling. Rather than being a tunnel collapse trap, this was basically an empty laundry chute. In an emergency, I could erode away the fire pit beneath me. It would take a while to chew through all that hard stone, but it could save my life by quickly moving me down a floor. I was confident I could survive the fall, but to be sure, I placed a thick rug beneath the hidden chute. Nothing suspicious here. Just cozy decor! Momentarily satisfied with that precaution, I moved on to tidying up the house. Lucille had left distinguishable sword slices through the cottage on her way out the door. Lightsaber-esque cuts had been gouged through stone walls, two door frames, and several ceiling rafters. As much as I wanted to repair those, I was lacking in Mana. Only two Mana had recharged automatically during the Battle of Fuzz Garden. Stitching and Gardencrafting the emergency chute had spent most of my resource piggy bank. I was down to only two out of my allotted twenty capacity. That spooked me a little. Getting that low was one misstep away from putting Granny down for mandatory nap-time. I trimmed the outer ends of the fallen wood log on the front porch, giving me two more points. I left the remainder in front. Bonny knew how to get in through the back door. Anybody else that wanted in could shove off. Alright, that¡¯ll do for now. ¡°Let¡¯s go help out our latest cripple. I''m done listening to him whine downstairs.¡± Chapter 26: Wine and Aunt Chapter 26: Wine and Aunt Bonny didn¡¯t find Brill at his home or his usual worksite. She eventually found him at The Hearth and Tav¡¯ eating breakfast. It would appear he was a regular. Or there weren¡¯t a whole lot of other good options at this time of day. ¡°Good morning, uncle.¡± She sidled up to him at the bar. ¡°I have news.¡± ¡°You went to the Dungeon, didn¡¯t you?¡± Her eyes widened. She glanced about to make sure nobody had heard him. She whispered, ¡°I thought we wanted to keep it on the down low?¡± ¡°It don¡¯t matter. I already chatted with Waye about it.¡± Her posture slackened. She rested her head face down in her arms on the bar. She groaned. ¡°You want food?¡± ¡°Sure.¡± He signaled to Mally Tav. Who, once again, put on her best ¡®pick-me¡¯ airs. It was gross to witness this early. I hadn''t even had my morning coffee yet. Naturally, Brill seemed oblivious. After that ordeal, Brill went back to chatting like business was usual. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. Waye ain¡¯t a gossip. And he¡¯s not sending out letters to the nearby towns yet.¡± Bonny turned her head to look at him. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Brill finished his meal first before he said anything. "Well, I had done some thinking. You probably don''t want strangers trampling over your lawn and rummaging through drawers. So I figure we wait on notifying the adventuring guilds. I figured instead I¡¯d have Waye reach out to a proper professional. One that knows the ins and outs of the place." ¡°You don¡¯t mean?¡± Bonny gulped. He nodded. ¡°My big sis.¡± Bonny winced and sat up quickly. ¡°It was her home. She won¡¯t make a mess of it. She¡¯ll clear out that Dungeon in no time. Only trick is getting a hold of her. But Waye has the Skills to do so. If she¡¯s got the time I reckon she¡¯ll be back in town in a week or two, tops.¡± Bonny pointed at Brill¡¯s chin. ¡°You¡¯ve got some food in your beard.¡± He wiped the gunk off with a sleeve. Bonny¡¯s food arrived. Fried eggs and hash. Unseasoned. And were the potatoes overcooked? That took real skill. Or real pettiness. She still tried her best to eat the provided meal. ¡°You didn¡¯t answer my question,¡± Brill stated. ¡°Are you mad at me?¡± He shrugged. ¡°I ain¡¯t your dad. You¡¯re an adult. You didn¡¯t get yourself killed. That¡¯s all that I can ask for.¡± ¡°I could have died though.¡± ¡°And you didn¡¯t. How¡¯d it go? Clear it out?¡± Bonny chuckled nervously. ¡°Not exactly. I may have accidentally, uh, negotiated with the Dungeon.¡± Brill¡¯s eyebrow lifted. ¡°That¡¯s rare. What are the terms?¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Room and lodging for employment?¡± ¡°Bad idea. You shouldn¡¯t work for a Dungeon. Especially one that uses undead. You¡¯ll be enslaved for eternity.¡± ¡°Uh, not exactly. You see¡­ I¡¯m the employer. I think.¡± He rested his chin on his arm. He looked incredulous. It was the most expressive she¡¯d ever seen him. ¡°You became the Dungeon Master? In one morning? With nothing to bargain?¡± ¡°Maybe? I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s all very confusing. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s official yet. The System would have notified me, right?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right. The Dungeon would have given you that Title.¡± Bonny twirled her fork in her food. ¡°I think the Dungeon is just as confused as I am. If not more.¡± ¡°You plan to go back to it. Today?¡± Bonny nodded. ¡°To live in it?¡± He asked. She nodded again. She awaited a reprimand. Instead Brill looked thoughtful for a moment. ¡°Is your luggage still here?¡± ¡°Yes. Upstairs.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s go have a talk with this Dungeon.¡± **** ¡°Took ya long enough, ya old hanky panky handbag.¡± Jimbo-no said upon seeing us enter the cellar. His words slurred. ¡°I kept hollerin¡¯. I almost thought ya had forgotten about me!¡± The skeleton man hiccuped. It was as I had feared. I stepped over the door still laying upon the ground. ¡°That¡¯s because I had.¡± ¡°Buuullsheet. Ya hear everythin¡¯ here.¡± He motioned around with a wine bottle. I smirked at him. ¡°Grandma¡¯s always do,¡± Jellybee stated with reverence. ¡°You can¡¯t hide anything from them.¡± Tiptap had jumped off his mushroom halfway down the stairs. His wobbling had offended the dainty skeletal beast. She joined her ghost clone upstairs to curl around the other side of my Core, like a strange black and white karma symbol made of cats. "I may have forgotten on purpose." ¡°I knew it!¡± Jimbo-no hiccuped again. ¡°Yer an evil broad that enjoys suffrage. Sulfur. Mhm, no¡­¡± ¡°Suffering,¡± Jellybee said. Jimbo-no mocked a drinking toast to that, then took a big swig. Red wine dribbled down his ribs and into the wine rack, before spilling out onto the floor. ¡°Yes,¡± I said. ¡°But there¡¯s a limit to how much I can put up with your so-called ¡®suffering.¡¯¡± It was true that Jimbo-no had a broken foot. Lucille, in her rampage, had thrown him feet first into the wall above the wine rack. Several metatarsals and phalanges had shattered upon impact. Other tarsal bones had gone flying. And that was where Jimbo-no had gotten all tangled up. Feet were surprisingly complex machinery. Even if we recovered all the scattered bits, he wouldn¡¯t be able to use that foot to walk anymore. On the other hand (or foot), he hadn¡¯t exactly tried to leave his new wine rack crib at all. Several broken bottles had accumulated below him. He had no stomach, liver, or even blood. Could skeletons even get drunk? The answer was apparently yes. Yes they could. ¡°Bonny will be returning any minute now. And we¡¯ll want to impress our new boss with what we can do. So enough drinking on the job. We¡¯ve got work to do.¡± I snapped my fingers twice for emphasis. ¡°She didn¡¯t get Lucie goosed? And yer still kickin¡¯ about. You ain¡¯t lyin¡¯! Woowie, that¡¯s..." He took another sip. "...Swell! Too bad I can¡¯t kick it too.¡± He pointed to his broken foot. I groaned. I hated dealing with drunkards. ¡°Jellybee, be a dear and get this drunk idiot down from there.¡± ¡°No!¡± Jimbo-no thrashed. ¡°No, chef! DON¡¯T PUT ME IN THE POT!¡± ¡°Oh hush. You¡¯re not going in there. I found another solution.¡± Besides, there wasn¡¯t any more room in the Neverwatch Pot. Two mostly grown men wouldn''t fit in a cauldron that size. I Gardencrafted forth a squat stick. Which only drained two of my Mana. Strange how different objects had different costs. I would have thought a solid piece of stick would cost more than loose thatching. I guess it might have been because the blueprint was improvised off of one of the wooden chairs from the kitchen. ¡°You¡¯re going to get a peg,¡± I said with a smile. ¡°YER GONNA WHAT TO ME?¡± Miraculously the one eyed seaman was able to clamber off the wine rack without issue. ¡°NO, I DON¡¯T CONSENT!¡± He clanged the wine bottle against the rack, as if he was trying to turn it into a glass weapon. It didn''t break. Wine bottles were surprisingly tough at times. He stared at it in confusion. Then he toppled over on his bad side, into the pile of broken bottles. At least some things were going well for me. Chapter 27: Fungus Among Us Chapter 27: Fungus Among Us We left the floppy bits of the remaining foot on Jimbo-no''s leg. There wasn¡¯t much point in removing it if there was no threat of infection. Jellybee obediently strapped the peg to the other skeleton¡¯s leg. And it worked good enough. Jimbo-no carried a limp and wouldn¡¯t be able to put much pressure on it, which took him off mining duty, but for now the replacement would suffice. Jellybee would be enough for what I had in mind. I sent him back into the tunnel to continue the good work. I had him carve through another six feet to lengthen the hall, then had him work on another room. During that I started on a combination of Mana Dusting in the tunnel for more Mana and Leyline Stitching boundaries throughout the surrounding soil. All while sitting in my new rocking chair within the living room next to the hearth. I needed to know the layout of the land. Not only to see when invaders approached the front entrance, but also to make sure we weren¡¯t going to accidentally mine our way into a river or underground well. Jimbo-no got sweeping duty upstairs. Within the hour he had sobered up. Which was surprisingly fast considering the amount of alcohol he had consumed. I surmised that he didn¡¯t need a liver to process it all out of a bloodstream. It was the thought that counted when it came to this sort of stuff. During his hangover he finally noticed that we had two more cats in the house. ¡°Lady, are ya running a Dungeon? Or an animal shelter?¡± He asked. ¡°Both. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± And I went back to Knitting. The notifications flew in as I quickly grinded my abilities while multitasking. Soul Stroll, Mana Dusting, and Leyline Stitching all went up a level. Which made it easier to focus on each one individually. Another hour passed. Only two hours remained for the Neverwatch Pot. I could tell the Pyreplace Simmer Power was brewing Spinemess along nicely. There was a distinctive smell in the air. What it was, I couldn''t quite place it. Warm milk? The notifications came and levels came slower. Which was disappointing, even if it made sense. Eventually my Mana topped off and I started acquiring incremental bits of experience in between Dusting and Gardencrafting repairs. As soon as Jellybee finished one small room in the basement, I had him dig out another. Then another. Besides the original room that was supposed to contain Lucille, there were now three more on the opposite side of the hall. All evenly spaced. For now, they all were to remain empty. I had to give Jellybee some sort of reward for his efforts. He truly was a good lad. In a way, the digging was its own reward.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Ha! Good heavens! I almost sounded like my old pappy there! No, the rooms were their rooms. One for each of my humanoid Minions. Even if they didn¡¯t need sleep, they still deserve a place to rest or store belongings. Servant quarters, so to speak. They would be free to decorate them to their leisure. Any invaders busting down doors looking for shinies might instead find someone lounging around in their deathday suit. I still felt like Jellybee deserved something special. I took a gander at the old hollow oak tree in the backyard. Queenie was still safe and sound in the enclosure he had crafted up for her. Unfortunately, there wasn¡¯t much I could do to help with his bug problems. I didn¡¯t know a lot about bees in the first place. I left the bees be. I turned towards my System menus and scrolled through endless recipes and blueprints. Eventually, I found something that I figured he would appreciate. Mushrooms! There were quite a lot here. And none of the labels had consistency. It was like the System was trying to figure out the best way to interpret things, so it was making it up as it went along. There was the typical looking red mushroom labeled Amanita muscarnita, another called Yellow Oyster Bloom, another that was simply morels, and a bunch that were different shades of Glowing blue mushrooms. Eenie, meenie, miney¡­ Oh, why not all of them? When Jellybee finally finished the last room, I Gardencrafted a few of the mushrooms into existence around the room. As a treat. Well, more than a few. Like, all of them. Once again, I underestimated how much a good fifteen Mana would create. Oh no. Two levels at once? That was concerning. There was an explosion of fungal growth. Mushroom stalks sprung from the ground and walls instantly, grew substantial caps, bulged, then went poof! A rainbow of spores vaulted in the air. The growth continued. A blanket of vibrant fungus. Surging like a tidal wave. Past the room. Down the tunnel. Into the other rooms. Reacting quickly, I Mana Dusted the falling rock trap. The mushroom blanket hit an avalanche wall of dirt and stone. Then came to a stop. Unable to continue onward into the cellar. I couldn''t believe my trap actually worked. I looked frantically through the dust and spores, trying to locate Jellybee. I Dusted through the rubble and the tangled web of mushroom jungle. The Mana that returned to me was minimal compared to the amount I had put in. A good five minutes passed and I still couldn¡¯t locate the boy¡¯s body. Finally, I found him. Jellybee was above ground¨Cclinging to a red and white tree sized mushroom that had emerged on the side of the house¨Claughing like he had just won the lottery. Thankfully the giant mushroom hadn''t ruined any of the surrounding garden. And on the bright side, it added a pleasant degree of shade to replace the other tree that Bonny''s companion had cut down earlier. Despite this minor setback, we had made considerable progress. The home was looking mighty clean upstairs. Hardly a speck of soot or ash remained outside the fireplace, all the fluff in the backyard had been Dusted away, and the sword cut materials had been replaced. Aside from an unfinished basement, the place was basically ship-shape. All it needed was some elbow grease and a few personal touches from the owner. There was only one hour left until Spinemess finished his bath. I was very excited to see how he had turned out. Chapter 28: Happy Little Tree Chapter 28: Happy Little Tree Within the last half hour I noticed Bonny return to the Dungeon. Along with the burly man from yesterday. I instinctively reacted with fear, then pushed aside those concerns. The bearded man carried luggage in each arm. Even when crossing into the backyard and coming across Tiptap, no axe appeared. I Strolled out to meet them. ¡°I told you I¡¯d come back. Uh, was that mushroom there before?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t believe it was.¡± ¡°Weird. Anyways.¡± Bonny introduced us. ¡°Ethel, this is my uncle, Brill Fletcher.¡± Brill stared. Silent. Stern. Unreadable. It made me sweat bullets. Finally, he nodded. ¡°Where¡¯s her room at?¡± ¡°I, uh.¡± Oh fiddlesticks. I had thought about where my undead Minions would have rooms. But I hadn¡¯t even thought about where the homeowner would want to sleep? ¡°There¡¯s a master bedroom upstairs. I never use it. Jellybee, can you show them the way?¡± Jellybee saluted. Then led the two inside. There was an awkward tension within the home. We sat within the living room. I had to Craft up another rocking chair just to make room for everyone. The air smelled of warm milk, tea leaves, and fresh tilled mulch. An interesting combination that didn¡¯t help much to ease the tension. Bonny twiddled her fingers and stared at her hands like a guilty child that had taken a peek at their Christmas presents a few days early. Jimbo-no whistled poorly in the background as he continued to sweep in place, pretending to not eavesdrop. Brill seemed calm, but I got the impression that his defenses were raised. He sat on edge. Any movement that entered the corner of his eyes was tracked like a homing missile. I unfairly blamed all the awkwardness on Jellybee¡¯s ineptitude at making a proper cup of tea. And for spilling half a cup on Brill¡¯s pants. That hadn¡¯t been a great start to alleviating all our stress. I coughed and cleared my throat. ¡°Well, would you look at the time!¡± I motioned to the Neverwatch Pot. A big flashing ¡®0¡¯ was displayed. On its own, the cauldron crane swung forward out of the fireplace. ¡°It¡¯s egg o¡¯clock! Who wants to see what hatches?¡± ¡°Ethel¡­ what did you make?¡± Bonny asked, a tinge of fear in her voice. ¡°And why?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that. This bed rest started long before you came knocking the second time around. One of my Minions needed a little R&R. That¡¯s all.¡±Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Bonny sighed. ¡°Fine. As long as it¡¯s not another goose.¡± Brill raised an eyebrow at that. Jimbo-no joined us in the living room. He had discarded his broom elsewhere. Ever so slowly, the Neverwatch Pot lid slid off, then clattered to the ground. A puff of verdant green mist, as thick as dry ice smoke, billowed from the Pot. A dark green hand emerged. Followed by another. Then two more. Four hands gripped the edge of the cauldron in four different spots. Then a slender figure pulled itself upwards, rose from the cauldron, and stepped out. Spinemess had been transformed completely. Where before there were only a few bones, now he was a fully developed, tall humanoid with four arms and two legs. From head to toe he was coated in vines, bark, moss, and leaves. Bits of the underlying bones showed here and there, but for the most part he was covered in plant-like material. In the places where Spinemess didn¡¯t have bones before, the skeletal frame was composed of branches or hardy sticks. Rugged bark covered the arms, shoulders, and knees in patches like natural armor. Vines curled through his rib-cage and interlaced together to form the shape of breasts. Layers of leaves and twigs formed hair on his head. The one major characteristic that Spinemess retained was his stoic expression. Albeit in a whole new form. His face was now a simple, wooden mask the texture of tree bark. It bore four eye holes and a thin line of a curved mouth. Each opening glowed with ghoulish green light, like a sickly jack-o¡¯-lantern. The elemental skeleton plant raised his four new hands, rotating them and inspecting them in the light.. ¡°What is it?¡± Bonny asked. ¡°A nymph. Maybe.¡± Brill responded. His fingers twitched. Perfectly primed to perforate. I glared at my other two Minions. They took the hint. The new Spinemess ignored the two guests. He was otherwise preoccupied. "This is... different." Spinemess said. His voice, or perhaps her voice, was distinctly feminine. Rich and alluring, but stoic and professional. It would have fit perfectly well for a secretary or real estate agent in her early 30''s. "This isn''t what I had expected." Jimbo-no burst into uproarious laughter. "This is your fix to Spinemess? By dressing him up as a cabbage and crossing him with a tree lady?¡± He clutched his kneecaps and wheezed. ¡°This is priceless!" ¡°Ooh. He¡¯s pretty!¡± Jellybee said. Bonny and Brill looked at my two other skeleton Minions in surprise. I ignored them. "I can try again if you don''t like it?" I asked Spinemess. ¡°There might be other forms you could take.¡± "I do not find these changes to be... disagreeable.¡± He looked down upon himself. ¡°My previous body was never quite to my liking. This will take some getting used to. That¡¯s all.¡± Jimbo-no was still snickering. ¡°Hey, Jellybee, what should we call him now? Spinelass? Shemess?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t expect you¡¯ll listen to whatever I want to be called, Jimbo-no. ¡®He and ¡®Him¡¯ are fine.¡± Spinemess raised two middle fingers towards the childish buffoon. ¡±And so is ¡®She¡¯ and ¡®Her¡¯.¡± Spinemess raised another two middle fingers towards him. ¡°I will not take any offense to either.¡± Spinemess lowered his middle fingers. ¡°¡®They¡¯ and ¡®Them¡¯ are accurate though. And will also suffice. There are, after all, two souls in this body.¡± Spinemess clutched at their chest with two of their hands. ¡°I believe the other¡¯s name is Rinafen. Is that right, Ethel?¡± I confirmed by checking the most recent notification I had received. ¡°Yes, that is indeed so.¡± I had noticed the presence of the wounded oak tree spirit more than six hours earlier. I had barely noticed her tugging on a Leyline. A small spark of a soul, almost on death¡¯s door, hanging on by a thread. She might have lasted much longer. She might not have lasted long at all. It was hard for me to say. All I knew was that she couldn¡¯t survive forever in the wooded grove that sheltered the cottage. It appeared that death came for all of us. Even spirits. Rinafen was someone in need. Someone that could use a little fixer upper. She needed a place to call home and she had a teensy bit of power she was willing to spare. I decided to bind her to Spinemess. As a hunch. To see what would happen. It was an egg of an idea. One that had hatched into two happy little accidents. And it seemed like they had turned out alright. Chapter 29: Home is Where the Heart is. Chapter 29: Home is Where the Heart is. Jimbo-no clapped softly. ¡°Well isn¡¯t that nice. Spiney made a new forever friend!¡± The sailor skeleton then approached me to talk confidentially. ¡°Ethel. Granny. Darling. Look me in the eye. See how serious I am here?¡± He spoke in a tone I¡¯d never heard him use before. The look in his eye burning brightly. ¡°Don¡¯t ever, ever put me in time-out lady soup. I like having my little Jimbo bone, if ya know what I mean. I don¡¯t care how badly this body gets fucked up. I¡¯ll walk it off. I¡¯ll work the Wild River ferry if I have to. But don¡¯t ever take away my manhood. Ya hear?¡± Spinemess folded their arms at that. Both sets of them. ¡°You don¡¯t have any manhood,¡± they said. ¡°That fell off years ago.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter! It¡¯s all in how ya use it. And believe me, I still can!¡± ¡°Oh hush, child,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not sticking you in the Pot.¡± Not yet. Anyways. ¡°Thanks the gods,¡± Jimbo-no exclaimed. Then he slumped on the couch, next to Brill, and placed a hand upon his shoulder. ¡°Ya understand, right?¡± Brill glared at him. Then brushed away Jimbo-no¡¯s hand and scooted away. He shared a look with me. I could only shake my head in sympathy. I continued, ¡°Besides, this was Spinemess¡¯s choice. I had no control over how they would turn out. As far as I can tell, the Neverwatch Pot cooks up ingredients like my Gardencraft. I can water and nurture a seed into a tree, but it¡¯s up to the tree to decide on how it wants to grow. And speaking of which¡­ Spinemess, earlier you had no say in the matter when you got roped into this mess. Now I¡¯m giving you the choice. If you¡¯d like, you¡¯re free to go and live your life. Jimbo-no exclaimed, "Hey! What about me? I had no say!" "Hush! You¡¯re sticking around, Little Jimbo.¡± I smiled up at Spinemess. They dwarfed over me like a scarecrow on a pole. ¡°Feel free to take your time. Because you might need a lot of it. I don¡¯t know how to exactly go about releasing you from being my Minion. So bear with me as soon as I figure it out.¡± Jellybee dropped a teacup. ¡°Bear? Where?¡± He looked about frantically. Surprisingly, I noticed Brill¡¯s posture shift. He became more alert. ¡°Thank you, Ethel,¡± Spinemess replied. ¡°I sincerely appreciate it. For now¨Cuntil our mission is completed¨CI will remain. I have a duty to uphold.¡± Jimbo-no grumbled. Then went back to kicking dust around with a broom. Spinemess bowed to Bonny and Brill. The skeleton¡¯s back popped audibly with the motion. ¡°My apologies. It would appear I may have been mentally absent these last few hours. Excuse me, miss, but would you happen to be the owner of this home?¡± They asked. Bonny replied, ¡°That¡¯s me.¡± ¡°I¡¯m mage specialist Spinemess. The Marrowmar Squadron was sent on a mission to give you a message. I wish to fulfill that obligation.¡± Her eyes grew wide. ¡°So,¡± Brill said. ¡°That¡¯s why the undead are here.¡± ¡°What does the Evergreen want with me?¡± Bonny asked. ¡°I haven¡¯t done anything. You must have the wrong house.¡± ¡°Are you not Miss Hattie Tanner?¡± Bonny let out a sigh of relief. ¡°I am not. I¡¯m Bonny Kettleflar. Miss Tanner is the previous owner. I am the homeowner, now, yes, but only as of recently. Hattie Tanner has not lived here in some time. I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°Ah, I see,¡± Spinemess said. ¡°Then would you kindly deliver our message to Miss Tanner? If at all possible? It¡¯s of the utmost importance.¡± ¡°Why? And who¡¯s asking?¡± Brill asked. His eyes bore into the tree nymph skeleton. The hairs on his beard practically stood on end. ¡°Hattie Tanner is to make an appearance before the Evergreen Ossarchy board members in one month¡¯s time.¡± Brill stood up and crossed his burly arms. He reminded me of a bear standing on its hind legs to look larger. Despite this, the plant covered undead stood a foot taller. ¡°And if she doesn¡¯t?¡± ¡°Failure to comply will result in a forced retrieval and personal escort to Lo Patross, the company capital. And Poppymill and the surrounding settlements will be made an example of.¡± Bonny shot up from the other rocking chair. ¡°What, why?¡± Spinemess stretched. It was quite the sight to see four long tree branch sized limbs stretching to their full length. ¡°I was not told the reason. I presume, in my purely personal opinion, it would be because Poppymill had elected to harbor a known war criminal.¡± ¡°She doesn¡¯t even live here anymore!¡± Bonny said. ¡°That is between her and the board to discuss. I am merely the messenger. Regardless of her answer, the terms are set. Plenty of warning was provided in advance.¡± Brill scratched his beard in thought. ¡°I can write her a letter, but it might not arrive in time. The guilds handle the mail. And I only have a vague idea of where she¡¯s stationed. Is there a way to¡­ make a request with the board? For an extension to the deadline?¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. Miss Tanner already ignored the last six missives. She kindly told the last messenger, and I quote, ¡®Shove this letter up your ass. Next time send a whole squad after me. I don¡¯t care. Send an army. I¡¯ll fight them all. I¡¯m not going.¡¯ Thus, this is the squad bearing the final message. The only appropriate response for her going forward is to make an appearance.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Brill raised his eyes to the ceiling and muttered, ¡°Yeah. That tracks.¡± ¡°Brill,¡± Bonny pulled him aside. She spoke to him in a whisper. ¡°There¡¯s no way she can travel to Poppymill and to Lo Patross in just one month. It¡¯s impossible. She won¡¯t make it in time.¡± Brill placed a hand on her and raised a finger to his lips. He motioned towards my Core. ¡°She can¡¯t hear us this far away.¡± Bonny hissed. She was looking at my avatar. ¡°She¡¯s a Dungeon Core. She can.¡± He didn¡¯t even bother to whisper. And yes, I could. Good to know. We were going to have even more company. I winked. ¡°I won¡¯t be able to hear you as well outside the Dungeon,¡± I suggested. Bonny turned a shade paler than my ghost form. Brill nodded in agreement. ¡°Let¡¯s talk. Outside.¡± After the two left, the walking humanoid vine trellis turned back to me. Spinemess placed a hand upon the bottom of their mask, where their chin would normally be. ¡°I get the impression our mission failed before it began. So, on second thought, Miss Merriweather, I will take you up on your offer." ¡°Oh? And where will you go?¡± I asked. ¡°Back home? I suppose I¡¯ll see you in a month when you come back to murder me?¡± ¡°No.¡± Spinemess said. They shook their head. ¡°Believe it or not, I intend to go AWOL.¡± Jellybee gasped. Jimbo-no almost tripped. ¡°And?¡± I asked. ¡°After that?¡± Spinemess held up all four hands in a shrug. ¡°You know, I haven¡¯t thought that far. Live. I suppose. At least for Rinafen¡¯s sake. And my own.¡± ¡°Stay for a little while longer. At least until you figure out what you both want to do with yourselves.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure what Rinafen wants. But for my sake, like all undead, I desire power. Which, ironically, in a roundabout way, is why I¡¯m in this form now. My squad desired your Core and tried to take it for ourselves. Look where that got us. No,¡± Spinemess shook their head. A few leaves fell from their hair. ¡°Staying here will only delay the inevitable. But I assure you, I¡¯m truly grateful for what you¡¯ve done.¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re going to have to stick around, regardless. I still can''t find the blasted button that terminates your contract. You¡¯re stuck with me until then, Hun. Besides,¡± I smiled, ¡°I¡¯m sure the new homeowner would appreciate having a couple more pairs of hands around to help.¡± I nodded in the direction of the two that had returned from their discussion. I didn¡¯t think it was possible for Bonny to look even more pale. She was practically shining with fear. ¡°Thank you, Spinemess.¡± Brill said. ¡°I will send her a letter.¡± Spinemess took a bow. Leaves fell again and wood creaked. ¡°Thus concludes my message. And my mission,¡± they said. ¡°Gods be with us.¡± Jimbo-no laughed. ¡°Welcome back to the shitshow, buddy.¡± Brill approached me. ¡°Can we talk? Privately?¡± He asked. I followed him out into the garden. Bees were buzzing and Tiptap had taken to chasing frogs out by the river. ¡°I, uh,¡± he rubbed the back of his head. ¡°I am not very good at being threatening.¡± He said. I looked him up and down. ¡°Could have fooled me,¡± I replied. ¡°I mean I don¡¯t know how to threaten someone. It¡¯s not in my nature.¡± ¡°Is that why you¡¯re here? To threaten me?¡± ¡°It was,¡± Brill said. ¡°And instead, you got threatened.¡± He nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t like the idea of my niece living in a Dungeon without protection. I was going to demand you make her Dungeon Master. Or destroy your Core if you refused.¡± I had to admit, that term caught me off guard. I was only familiar with ¡®Dungeon Masters¡¯ in one kind of context. I had to assume he wasn¡¯t referring to that. I blushed. I almost didn¡¯t want to ask. ¡°Which means, uh, what, exactly?¡± His brow furrowed in thought. ¡°You don¡¯t know? How long have you been around?¡± Oh lordy. Perhaps he was referring to that! This criminal behavior isn¡¯t what I signed up for! She was so much younger than me! The idea was revolting! What kind of world had I been reborn in? ¡°A day? Maybe two? I didn¡¯t bring a glossary, so you¡¯ll have to explain. Use small words.¡± I dreaded his answer more than the thought of my Core being destroyed. ¡°I don¡¯t ever use big words.¡± He huffed with a curled lip. I interpreted that as one of his few ways of smiling. ¡°A Dungeon Master controls the keys. Makes ¡®em steady; Locks ¡®em down. No more new Minions. No more building new rooms. The Dungeon Master has full control.¡± Oh thank God. Phew! Wait, no! That sounds bad for me! ¡°...But?¡± I asked. ¡°You aren¡¯t threatening me? You changed your mind?¡± He was silent for a spell. He looked out over the garden and watched Bedknob creep back into the Dungeon. Tiptap didn¡¯t notice the tomcat. One of her was in the fireplace. The other one was hunting a fallen leaf. ¡°My sister owned this place. Put a lot of heart into it. Hattie wanted it to go to someone that would appreciate it. I don¡¯t know Bonny all that well, but she¡¯s family. Which means she¡¯ll be as pigheaded as the rest of us. It runs in our blood. She won¡¯t back down without a fight.¡± A Dungeon Master held the keys. They locked up my abilities. I wasn¡¯t sure why I would willingly do such a thing. But he wasn¡¯t asking for me to make her a Dungeon Master, was he? I connected the dots. ¡°You think there will be a fight. You want me to protect her.¡± Brill nodded. ¡°She could run. Or hide.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Poppymill is home,¡± he stated. ¡°It¡¯s what Hattie is fighting for.¡± I understood the sentiment. I knew a stubborn old goat or two that would be willing to lay down in front of a bulldozer to save their home. One doesn¡¯t pick up one¡¯s roots that easily. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what protection I can offer,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m too old to be getting into fights these days.¡± He grunted. ¡°It¡¯s not your fight either. Which is why I¡¯m asking you nicely instead. When the dead come a knockin¡¯, can you keep Bonny safe? Can you keep my sister¡¯s estate safe?¡± I gulped. What was I getting myself into? My Core instincts screamed in protest. That little voice was my guiding star. My only direction in this world I didn¡¯t understand. I knew I should listen. Unfortunately, I wasn¡¯t good at following directions. I had already decided to go the opposite direction of whichever way my instincts pointed. ¡°I can try,¡± I said. Brill nodded. ¡°Appreciate it.¡± He went back inside to record the message for Miss Tanner¡¯s letter. He left shortly after. It looked like it was time for me to hit the books and learn a thing or two. I had a few questions for Miss Kettleflar after Jellybee finished giving her a tour of the place. Chapter 30: Mirror Mirror, Quite the Haul Chapter 30: Mirror Mirror, Quite the Haul I noticed I hadn¡¯t received any experience for Brill leaving this time. I hypothesized the System only counted it if there was some sort of combat involved. Ooh, that¡¯s a good fifty cent word. Hypothesize. Makes me feel like a junior scientist instead of some dimwit trying to figure out the controls on how to move a character in a video game. Combat? Yuck. You¡¯re out of your mind, airplane lady. And you too, Brill, for that matter. Why does everyone think I should be putting up my dukes and having an old fashioned fisticuffs brawl. I like the idea of getting experience from tea parties. Can we do that instead? What a shame. I could have used the extra boost for leveling. Guess I¡¯ll do this the only way I know how. With grit, determination, and household chores! Jellybee had given most of the tour to Bonny. Spinemess had tagged along, since they had only seen the basement and the living room. Jimbo-no hobbled along with them too, for whatever reason. I had listened to the short, yet amusing tour quietly while Mana Dusting away the rocks from the fresh tunnel collapse, all while seated in my favorite rocking chair next to the fire. By the time they went down the stairs, I had reset the trap entirely. The only sign of it being triggered were the bits of dirt and dust on the ground. And an entire carpet of mushrooms that lay beyond. Jellybee waved his arm dramatically. ¡°Aaand here¡¯s the best for last. The hidden cellar that¡¯s not so hidden anymore. Down here is where we work our magic. We brew tea, summon goose monsters, and get drunk off your aunt¡¯s wine.¡± ¡°Very nice! Miss Tanner never mentioned a cellar.¡± Bonny gazed about in wonder at all the shelves and weaponry, then raised an eyebrow at the shattered wine bottles. ¡°What¡¯s behind that door?¡± ¡°Food,¡± Jellybee answered. ¡°Enough to last the end of the world, I reckon! Again!¡± Bonny let out a low whistle as she peeked inside. ¡°And she didn¡¯t mention this either. Very nice. Very cozy. I love it.¡± When she turned around she noticed the other ¡®door¡¯ we had made. Bonny pointed down the dark tunnel we had mined out, ¡°What¡¯s that way?¡± She shivered. ¡°Is this where the Core came from?¡± ¡°What? No, silly. That way leads to our rooms. It¡¯s a dead end after that.¡± ¡°We have rooms?¡± Jimbo-no asked. ¡°Since when?¡± ¡°Like, dunno. A couple hours ago? Maybe?¡± ¡°Which one is mine?¡± Jimbo-no asked. ¡°First door on the left. But no peeking! They aren¡¯t finished yet.¡± "You don''t say," Bonny muttered. "It could use some decorating. And flooring. And lighting. And a door..." Jimbo-no ignored the other skeleton and shambled ahead into the darkness. He gave a whoop, then scuttled back. ¡°Fellas, ya won¡¯t believe this! It must be my deathday or somethin¡¯. She grew drugs! Drugs in my room!¡± He held out one of the mushrooms before him like it was a rose. Oh, so that¡¯s what those mushrooms with the blue bruised stems were? I just thought they looked pretty. Whoops. Bonny¡¯s suspicion dissipated. She brightened at the news. ¡°Wow! She is able to grow that strain here? In less than a couple hours? That¡¯s incredible!¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. ¡°My, my, this girl certainly knows how to party,¡± Jimbo-no said. ¡°And Spinemess too? My boy! I mean, gal! I mean, uh, tree! Whatever ya are, ya rock!¡± ¡°No, that¡¯s Granny,¡± Jellybee said. ¡°Easy to mix up.¡± Spinemess had strode into the hall and stood at the edge of the darkness. They called back. ¡°Which room is mine?¡± ¡°The second one!¡± ¡°Thanks. I¡¯m going to bed.¡± There was a sound of a tree falling, then silence. ¡°Mood,¡± Bonny said. **** I Soul Strolled up the stairs into the master bedroom and took a look about. I hadn''t spent much time here at all. There had been no reason to dive deep here when there was so much else going on. It was a simple room, yet surprisingly unexpectedly austere compared to the rest of the home. Bonny''s luggage lay on the bed, unopened. She hadn''t unpacked at all yet. Perhaps she was still on the edge. A moment away from running away. When I was around her age I knew I always had a suitcase packed, just in case I ever had to run out the door at a moment''s notice and never return. Ah, youth. It wasn''t exactly like I was snooping. No sir! Okay, I was wee bit curious. What had driven this girl to leave everything behind? What mysteries lay within those bags? No, I truly was in the master bedroom for one reason. And one reason only. This was my last chance to visit. The moment Bonny started unpacking I would never physically return to this place, even if it was part of my Dungeon. The young woman deserved her privacy in her own home. I was here for the gold framed mirror that hung on the wall, above the vanity. Obviously. I walked up to it and looked at my reflection for the first time. Sure, I had seen myself a lot already. I was basically able to look at my Soul Stroll avatar with a third person point of view at any time. This was the first time I had zoomed in with my own two glassy peepers. And actually looked. Despite my omnipresent sight, putting myself in front of a mirror felt fitting. Prettying up my hair and makeup was a daily habit of mine for quite a few years. Why change? Despite this limited view, I still knew how to get a good view of myself all the right and wrong angles. It was a shame that I didn¡¯t appear to be younger. This was a mental projection of myself, right? So why didn''t I look younger. That may sound surprising to hear, but I wasn''t always old. You see, that''s one of the funny things about getting older: one never feels like the outer self matches up with the inner self. In my mind, I was still just some young adult with no idea what I was doing. Nothing had changed, except for the shell. I was still me, after all the decades and wrinkles through time. My two skeletal Minions were chatting in the basement with Bonny. They seemed to be getting along well enough. They started coming up the stairs. For a second I had gotten lost staring into this strange representation of myself. The ghostly reflection of a woman that had died, who technically looked as old as a rock in dirt, that felt like she should be sixty years younger. There you go again, you old fossil. Getting all distracted. You''re here for the mirror. Reaching out with my Mana Dust Skill, I carved away a small corner from the edge of the mirror, near the bottom. A neat little sliver Bonny would never notice was missing. The usual materials of compounds and elements flooded my brain. This was the kind of baloney I really didn''t care much for. I was no engineer or chemist. In this case, I didn''t need to be a scientist to know what I wanted. It was a common misconception that mirrors were only made of glass. There were other elements within each mirror. Most seemed useless, though there were a select few I had special interest in. This mirror in particular was made of copper, limestone, silica sand, sodium carbonate, tin chloride, and ... ah, there it is. The most important: gold! There wasn''t much, but it was there. A thin plating of it for the glass to adhere to. I think most phones had more gold than I had scooped up. The quantity didn''t matter. This was all I needed. In this way, it was quite the haul. Better than I expected! Most mirrors back on Earth have aluminum backings, since that tends to be pretty cheap. They weren''t always though. Most were made out of silver before modern industrialization times. And sometimes gold. Gold backed mirrors were especially prized though, since the gold wouldn''t tarnish as easily. This could be another hint towards how valuable that food pantry filled with mason jars could be. Or this could be another dead end towards figuring out what century of technology I had landed in. I didn''t need to be a scientist to get rich. Alchemists had spent centuries on Earth trying to figure out how to turn one material into another. One of which was gold. The gold standard for wealth. And let''s just say, as a Dungeon Core, I was something of an alchemist myself. I Soul Strolled away. Content to leave the master bedroom and not return. Chapter 31: Magical Burnout Chapter 31: Magical Burnout The afternoon was getting late by this point. I guessed we had only a little bit until the sun began to set. I went to Bonny to ask her about our next steps. As far as I could tell, we maybe had a few weeks until some dangerous war criminal came knocking on the door, then after that we had maybe a few more weeks before the war crimes were committed on us. That didn¡¯t give me much time to learn. Mana and magic appeared to be my modus operandi for interacting with the world. Jimbo-no, as useful as he had been, was a terrible teacher and not well versed in the ways of magic. He may or may not have retreated to his room for the night for some recreational relaxation. Spinemess, while a mage, was still sleeping off the transformation, which seemed to have been physically taxing upon their body. And no, Jellybee wasn¡¯t much help with learning magic either. The young witch was the best thing I had. Bonny paced in the living room while I Leyline Knit in the rocking chair. I had gotten pretty good at Stitching new plots of dirt around the house while chatting. If I don¡¯t say so myself. Why thank you for noticing. You¡¯re so sweet. ¡°First things first,¡± Bonny began. ¡°If I¡¯m going to be relying on you, I need to know what you¡¯re capable of. This means all your stats. All your abilities. All your Minions. This includes your Skills, your Powers, your Traps, your Levels, your Weapons? I don¡¯t know. Whatever you can do, I want to know. I don¡¯t want any more surprise gooses on the loose or spooky, scary dryads emerging from cauldrons. I will not be chased by agents of chaos within my own home. "Granted, even after you tell me everything, the odds are likely that I won¡¯t know much about what that everything entails until I do some research. I fully intend to do that whenever I get the chance in town, even if that means ordering books from abroad. In the meantime, we¡¯ll work with what we have. The System can vary greatly from individual to individual, yet still has a logic that it follows. I presume this may be similar to how the System interacts with Dungeons.¡± I raised my hand. ¡°Why are you doing that?¡± Bonny asked. She looked genuinely confused. ¡°It¡¯s polite. It means I have a question,¡± I said. ¡°Then just¡­ ask?¡± I lowered my hand. ¡°There¡¯s a lot here in all these screens and menus. It¡¯s gonna take forever and a day. And I think I¡¯m close to leveling up? Can we go over everything in the morning? By then I might have new choices to add to the long list.¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. She thought for a moment. ¡°That seems reasonable. Can you at least go over some of the basics?¡± I raised my hand again. ¡°Uh, yes?¡± ¡°What if I don¡¯t know what the basics are?¡± Bonny sighed. ¡°Then we¡¯ll cover the basics first.¡± I started to raise my hand. I had a cheeky grin plastered across my lips. Jellybee and Jimbo-no were clearly starting to rub off on me. She suddenly looked very tired. ¡°No, just ask.¡± I immediately felt bad about my behavior. The poor gal had been through a lot recently. ¡°Last question. What¡¯s a Pyreplace? And Witchpyre? Okay, that¡¯s two questions, probably.¡± Despite her apparent exhaustion, Bonny quickly shifted into teaching mode. I wondered if that came from experience or if that was an actual Skill she possessed. It almost sounded like she was reciting from a book. ¡°Witchpyre is the emanation of the soul, combusted by Mana. It is emerald green and evergreen, smokeless, and odorless. Notably, it can burn forever. Even on its own, it doesn¡¯t require any physical fuel source besides what you put in initially. When it comes into contact with soft or organic materials, it will behave similarly to a normal fire. It will burn away flesh, wood, and coal. It is¡­¡± She trailed off. Jellybee had invited himself to the lesson by taking a seat on the ground before her, arms wrapped around bent knees. To his credit, he was quiet and respectful about it. He looked up at her, enraptured, mushroom hat tilted all the way back. "He¡¯s fine. He¡¯s taking a break. You were saying?¡± I reminded her. ¡°Where was I? Sorry, I lost track... Oh! Now I remember. In summary: Witchpyre is dangerous. It¡¯s a calling card of the undead. Don¡¯t mess with it if you want others around you to keep their flesh. Pyreplaces are just fireplaces, but for Pyre instead of fire. Easy enough?¡± ¡°But... you''ve still got flesh,¡± I pointed out. ¡°In the past day you''ve set your eyes on fire. Twice, in fact. And threw one of those green globs at Lucie." "Yes. I did. Which is why it was stupid of me to enter the Dungeon alone." She coughed. ¡°Damn bird deserved it.¡± She coughed again. "It was indeed a terrible idea. You have no idea how much of a mean old lady I can be." She smiled at that, then shook her head. ¡°Witchpyre can be controlled so it doesn¡¯t always turn into regular flames. I am fortunately Skilled in controlling Witchpyre. Not everyone is. And even I could get overwhelmed easily if the Dungeon contained a horde of endless undead. When you stoke Witchpyre for too long your mind starts to slip. Over time, this can become more frequent as it takes a toll on your body and soul. That¡¯s when mistakes are made.¡± ¡°Big deal. My mind slips every other sentence,¡± I laughed at my own joke. ¡°Not like that. When a mage¡¯s mind slips it¡¯s lethal. If they¡¯re lucky, they¡¯ll spontaneously combust. There is no warning. And no burial. They join the ranks of the undead immediately." I inhaled sharply. Jellybee gasped. Bonny nodded solemnly. "Yeah¡­It''s as bad as it sounds. It''s called Burnout. It happens to the best of us..." Bonny trailed off. I knew that look. Time to get back on track. ¡°Okay,¡± I said.¡±So this Witchpyre. It reacts from Mana igniting it. I don¡¯t know what I did, but my Core is surrounded by it. I never consciously ignited it with Mana.¡± She thought for a moment. ¡°Did someone die?¡± ¡°No, I don¡¯t thin- Oh. Yeah, no, I killed someone. An undead guy. Sergeant Marshmallow or something like that. I wasn¡¯t awake when it happened.¡± ¡°How in the Hells¡­ does that happen?¡± ¡°She fell from the sky,¡± Jellybee said. ¡°Amazing,¡± Bonny said. ¡°I have the same question.¡± ¡°I know? Pretty hardcore of me, right?¡± Bonny lowered her head and exhaled deeply in apparent revulsion. ¡°And that¡¯s my sign. I¡¯m going to bed.¡± Bonny nodded to me, then trudged up the stairs to the master bedroom. ¡°We¡¯ll continue the lesson tomorrow. Goodnight, Ethel. Good luck on your leveling. Goodnight, Jellybee. Try to keep it down while I sleep.¡± ¡°Good night, Bonny. Sleep well.¡± Chapter 32: A Musical Interlude Chapter 32: A Musical Interlude It was a bright and beautiful morning on the sunny side of hell. "What can I say about the Taskmaster? Well, sir, I can assure you there won''t be any problems with your inspection,¡± the skeletal officer said. ¡°Kraven Lash runs a tight shipwreck and a jolly hellscape." The compliance officer sniffed. A habit that he had retained long after his nose had rotten away. Walden was a very serious man who took his job seriously. Regardless of the century. Yet here was some Evergreen overseer turning his occupation into a "jolly" experience? "Yes, I''ve heard the man''s methodology is quite ¡­ innovative. Though I have to question the effectiveness. Regardless, I''ll be the one to decide. Lead the way." "Certainly, sir." The camp guard replied. He bowed and motioned. "Right this way,¡± he said with a singsong voice. The guard led the inspector past several security points and gates. All up to code. All in compliance. All waved through with cordial greetings and salutes. At each checkpoint the Walden sniffed disapprovingly. The seemingly young bone guard caught on. "Something wrong, sir?" "No. Everything is up to code." "... But?" "I''ve never seen so many guards smiling at their posts. They seem¡­ happy." Walden''s escort replied with a smile of his own. A strange look considering the undead couldn¡¯t make facial expressions without skin and muscles. "As I said, the master runs a tight ship. Ah, here we are. Our last security point. They''ll need your identification once more, even with me here. Protocol and all. Then we''ll descend into the pit of the damned." "The final checkpoint is a cliff?" "No. It''s the elevator that goes down the cliff. The only way in and out. That is, aside from the sea." "Ah, that''s right. I remember now. My report said the slave pit is on the coast, but I didn''t think that was literal." Walden sniffed again. What kind of slave pit would leave half the pit open to the sea? Where slaves could swim to freedom at any time? Undead in particular could walk across the ocean floor until they got to an island. It was foolish. He noted that potential oversight in his inspection report. They stepped into the wooden lift. It was a sturdy and massive contraption, designed to haul up entire loads worth of raw materials and scraps. Or a copious amount of people. They were shortly accompanied by a small platoon of undead. A good twenty soldiers composed of multiple squads, judging by the insignias on their armor. One in particular stood out to Walden. ¡°You. What¡¯s your name?¡± He asked. The soldier bearing a large war-hammer across his back saluted. ¡°Mardy, sir!¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. ¡°Mardy, elucidate me. What are you doing here?¡± ¡°I have a report to deliver to the Taskmaster.¡± ¡°Concerning?¡± ¡°That¡¯s confidential,¡± Mardy replied. ¡°Sir.¡± Walden nodded. Good. Everything shipshape, even on the army side. Men with tight lips were important to keep around. Another squad joined them in the large lift. Guards, this time. Along with a batch of fresh blood. Destitute slaves shuffled in with them, bound by chains and sunken eyes. Humans. The living kind. In all shapes and sizes¨Ceven children on the cusp of adulthood¨Cthere was no common feature that linked them together aside from the physical bondage and the flesh that clung to their bones. Out of the entire gaggle not a single one rose their looks beyond their feet. Fate had been met and accepted with sullen grace. For the first time Walden felt reassured. Despite how packed the lift had become, this was familiar territory to him. Almost comforting. It meant a smooth inspection and possibly an early day off. The young guard, on the other hand, appeared slightly troubled. He tutted, then leaned over casually. "Such a shame. Don''t worry though,¡± he said. ¡°Most of them start off looking like this, but Hard Pill breaks them soon enough." The inspector would have raised an eyebrow if any had remained. They weren''t already broken? "Hard Pill?" Walden asked. "Kraven Lash. The taskmaster." In unison their squad of escorts all shouted in a singsong voice, "Ain''t that the truth!" The compliance officer had seen his fair share of hellholes, prisons, labor camps, and pits of despair. Walden had witnessed countless tortures, lashings, hangings, and maimings. Countless more times he had rectified gentle policies and ensured cruel compliance. It was nothing personal. He was simply numb to most of it. All part of the job. Yet he suddenly felt very, very uneasy. The lift began to descend down the cliff-side, into mist as thick as a cloud. Walden¡¯s unease grew in magnitude shortly after they entered into the mist. They were met with a chorus of noise that rose to meet them. "Is that¡­ is that music?" Walden asked. "Why, that sounds like half the population." The soldier, Mardy replied to him. "No, sir. I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s the entire camp.¡± "A work song? It doesn''t sound like any shanty I''ve heard before." Another soldier answered, "It''s a folk song. To build morale." He then answered the unspoken questioning look Walden gave him. "During the beatings.¡± He shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s always like this." As they descended through the mist and halfway to the coast the lyrics became clearer and the tune bounced off the cliff walls with a jolly fervor. ¡°Death to the youth! ¡°That¡¯s the way!¡± "Ain''t that the truth!" ¡°None of us will survive the day!¡± "Swallow that truth! Swallow that truth!" The lift cleared through the mist. There was the Western sea, stretching off into the horizon. And then, there was the ship¡­ right in the middle of a mining quarry on the beach. The young guard wasn''t kidding. The taskmaster really did run a tight shipwreck. It was beached on the sands¨Ca large vessel from another era¨Cgiven a new life. It was a theater stage. Surrounding it was a tangle of repurposed ship parts, dock piers, and various driftwood recycled into some sort of prison camp shanty town. A legion of undead slaves marched to their own beatings¨Cgoing along with the rhythm of the song¨Call with smiles upon their faces. Individuals all over the quarry quickly hewed away at the earth with pickaxes and shovels. A slow parade set the pace to the elevator pulley systems. And upon the ship deck a crowd stood around singing and watching as an undead man was being beaten to the beat. The Evergreen Taskmaster, "Hard Pill" Kraven Lash, set the pace with a cracking whip in hand and a song in his heart. They all sang that same song. All in step. All in jolly desperation. "Like a goddamn musical¡­" Walden muttered. The camp guard pushed open the lift door. ¡°Welcome to the show.¡± The squad of prison guards joined into the lighthearted song. They practically danced out of the lift. "Have a smile." "Die in style." Mardy, Walden, the undead soldiers, and those who still clung to unhappy flesh all walked forward in silent fear. Chapter 33: A Noisy Next Door Neighbor Interlude Chapter 33: A Noisy Next Door Neighbor Interlude Deep within the mountain, Damian Jager awoke as his Core drummed to life. ¡°Soundcheck, one two.¡± His voice came out through his Core distorted, like an old timey radio broadcast. Excellent. ¡°Ooh. Love that reverb. This Soul Call Skill was already a good choice. Alright, we cool? No more info dumps or lore? Great. Glad that¡¯s over. That tutorial was biiig yikes.¡± A notification filled his screen and he groaned. ¡°I get it! Just let me play, already!¡±
  • USE MANA TO SHAPE YOUR SURROUNDINGS TO YOUR IDEAL ENVIRONMENT
  • CURATE AND PROTECT YOUR ENVIRONMENT
  • USE WHICHEVER BIOLOGICAL, MECHANICAL, MAGICAL, OR HAZARDOUS MEANS DEEMED NECESSARY>
    • The notification conveniently stored itself within his Quest tab when he closed it. Alongside several other easy to accomplish Quests that would reward EXP when completed. But first things first, Damian opened up his stat screen: THE STUNLOCKE DUNGEON GEOBOOM CORE (LEVEL 1) MANA CAPACITY: 20/20 MANA RENEWAL RATE: 1 STARTING MINIONS: BOLT IMP (LVL 1) LESSER THUNDER ONI (LVL 1) STARTING TRAPS: BOOM BOOM ROOM (LVL 1) STUNLOCK DEADLOCK (LVL 1) TRAP INTEGRITY: N/A LOOT VALUE: 100 AVAILABLE SKILLS: MANA BLAST (LVL 1) SPACE BOOST (LVL 1) SOUL CALL (LVL 1) TECHNOCRAFT (LVL 1) (UNSPENT SKILL POINTS: 5) UNLOCKED POWERS: ELEMENTAL AFFINITY (DEMON) ELEMENTAL AFFINITY (THUNDER) SPARKSPAWNER He smiled at his Dungeon name. That was his DJ name before he unalived drinking seventeen Rockstars during his seventeenth birthday Twitch stream celebration. ¡°Good times. Gooood times.¡± He surveyed his new surroundings. His Core was situated upon a small pile of precious coins and gems, presumably worth one hundred currency in this world. Stalagmites and Stalactites dripped water. At least, one of those two did. He could never remember the difference. Nor did he care too. They wouldn¡¯t be around for long. He would soon clear out every boulder and rock formation like it was a fresh save on Stardew Valley. Except without all the annoying social interactions to deal with. Damian was alone in a deep, dark cave. The way he liked it. Dank. But there was a major problem. There was a missing setting. "Hey, what gives? My FPS is locked? How many frames am I getting? This can¡¯t be sixty." A colony of tiny bats fluttered in the darkness in response to this built in sound system. He passively Scanned them as they flew screeching by. Damian was already glad that he had decided to not turn on challenge mode. Especially since challenge mode turned off Tool-tips. And he''d much rather leave those enabled. None of his skills were inherently intuitive. Not only had the Tool-tips helped explain clearly what all of his abilities did, they also doubled as a Scanning ability when he hovered his focus over objects or creatures in the environment around his Core. Unfortunately he didn''t see any options to disable them in the menu. Lame. He could have taken some badass screenshots if he could disable his HUD. He hoped the Tool-tips wouldn''t get annoying in the late game. Damian absolutely did not want to have his hand held. He had refused the Dungeon tutorial companion that was offered and had skipped past the opening dialogue as fast as he could. It all seemed easy enough and self explanatory. He wasn''t some old boomer. From what he gathered during the Dungeon Core tutorial, this world had been hit with some sort of rip off Miyazaki Soulsborne apocalypse. Undead were the ruling sapient race and could keep coming back, especially inside Dungeons. Any human could become undead. It would make for great game-play. And a depressing life. ¡°Run head first into a wall repeatedly? Ha! Pass. Been there, done that.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Damian had experienced his fair share of hardship. The idea of reincarnating in another world was an absolutely delightful one, except for that whole starting over as an infant part. Experiencing junior high again sounded like his personal version of hell. Puberty and rejection were not challenges he yearned to experience again. He did not want to struggle again. No, he deserved to coast along this time. He deserved to manage an empire as a godlike being. He had chosen to be reborn as a super intelligent and conniving Dungeon Core. ¡°Who doesn¡¯t love a little power fantasy?¡± Humanity still existed and thrived in most parts of the world. For his starting location he had intentionally chosen a nice and simple area next to a sleepy town with plenty of resources. Which would give him plenty of time to accumulate levels and floors, automate production, and build up an unstoppable army. ¡°What poor saps. Tsk tsk.¡± How could a couple farmers handle these carefully chosen cheat Skills and Powers? They wouldn¡¯t know what was gonna hit them! Welcome to the Stunlocke meat grinder special, ladies. Damian knew he still had to play it safe though, at least at first. The core tenet of being a Core was that he was inherently fragile. And he had also played enough 4X video games and engine deck builders to know the first few moves were some of the most important for developing your ¡®economy.¡¯ Mo'' money mo'' power. The sooner he got his systems up and running the sooner he could kick back and relax. Automation was king. His first action was to use almost all of his available starting Mana to create his first Minions. Energy whirled throughout his Core. Four [Bolt Imps (LVL 1)] appeared. They were horned gremlin sized demons with spiky tails, fur pelt loincloths, and carried hammers that sparked with electricity. The System immediately rewarded him for this act:     Just one of the bolt imps could have destroyed his Core with their feeble electric prowess, yet they groveled and bowed before his might. He found their behavior amusing. They were weak stepping stones on his path to becoming an overpowered god. Of course they should worship him. The possibilities of his future were tantalizing. He could only imagine. Thunderbirds? Flesh golems? Raiju? Storm dragons would be lit! He could always pick up more Affinities if he wanted to get real creative with monster mashing. For now, these resource gathering worker units would do. ¡°Sup, boys! How you all doing tonight?¡± Of course he could have mentally commanded his Minions to start digging away at the nearest patch of minerals, but where was the fun in that? ¡°Great to hear it. Let¡¯s dig in!¡± The imps started to approach the walls with their hammers. ¡°Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Aren¡¯t we missing something?¡± They paused and scratched their heads. ¡°Aha! Of course!¡± For that, he needed Mana. And Damian Stunlocke was not above putting in the grind. Which was why he put all five unspent Skill points into his Mana Blast ability. He activated Mana Blast on the Stalag¡­ Stalact¡­ Whatever was dripping water. Boom! Competition. Gone. Rock. Hard. There was an explosion of sound, the rock formation shattered, and half his Mana capacity refilled. A small cool-down timer appeared on that Skill. ¡°Is this real, chat? I have to wait before I can get more Mana?¡± His imps looked back at the Core in confusion. ¡°Alright, chill. Where¡¯s that AUX cord at? I can¡¯t think in all this silence.¡± Damian¡¯s Soul Call buzzed, his Core Drummed, and he activated his Space Boost Skill. The Mana Swirling about him condensed, the Leylines pulled taut into place. He strummed on their strings and they sang the sweetest sounds as he expanded his Dungeon to the edges of the cavern. The Leylines locked into place. Solid white, red, and blue lines that ran through the strata of the rock formations. At points they connected to his Core, like 2D horizontal lines of ink being pulled off the page to become living spider webs. ¡°Testing. Testing. Is this thing on?¡± With Soul Call, his Core was a speaker. And his voice was the acoustics. Each time he spoke, the sound waves carried through the Leylines connected to him wiggled and waved up and down. Like an electronic audio visualizer. Between his Soul Call and Technocraft Skills, plus a little Thunder Affinity for good measure, the beats came naturally to him. ¡°Mmm¡­ Now that¡¯s more like it! What are you waiting for, boys? Make some noise!¡± They hammered into the walls, joining his improvised rhythm. They struck like clockwork, carried rocks to his core, and kept a nice tempo going. As soon as Mana Blast¡¯s cool-down ended, he sounded off. The spectrogram danced through the rocks. Explosions echoed about the cavern. Sweet, sweet music. This was how he got into the zone. This was his groove. As soon as he had the Mana, he summoned another starting Minion, a couple of [Lesser Thunder Oni (LVL 2)]. They were to be the tanky demonic elite units, until he unlocked better ones. Red skinned, horned, muscular, and faces twisted in perpetual wrath. They were adorned with a ring of taiko drums and also carried hammers. They weren¡¯t as proficient at breaking rocks as the imps were, but they could still keep a good beat going. He continued to Blast through layers of subterranean minerals, accumulating experience, and summoning imp Minions. He quickly shot up in levels. At level 3 he opted to increase his Mana Capacity, since that was clearly the obvious choice. Why increase your Renewal Rate when you can just blow up the environment for easy money? A bigger bank was smart: that''s how you got all the lit stuff down the line. By the time he had broken into another underground area with monstrous inhabitants he was level 4, with a sizable brute squad and Zerg rush cannon fodder. The other denizens here, a tribe of goblins, did not take too kindly to his explosive expansion. Damian Jager went on the hunt. He sent his Minions into the fray accompanied by the percussive drums of war. Waves of strata bounced in time to the slaughter. The Quest completion experience kept rolling in with their death screams. ¡°Ah, sweet music. It¡¯s nothing personal, kids. You¡¯re just in my way.¡± His first upgrade he unlocked for his nameless imp mooks was the Blast Mining ability, which equally ramped up both his expansion and warfare efforts. It turned the imps into self-destructive kamikaze balls of sonic dismemberment. Baneling style. They didn¡¯t seem to mind. They didn¡¯t have a choice, even if they did. He waged war on the subterranean creatures until their little lives offered diminishing value to his fun. He filled his Core room with all sorts of deadly traps. Some were from his starting list. Some were his own devious machinations. Then he moved on, digging deeper, building new floors. Eventually he came across another Core. One that had no defenses. No minions. No¡­ nothing. It just¡­ waited. Damian¡¯s mind connected to it. And he immediately recoiled in horror. ¡°What the fuck?¡± This other Core did not possess a human soul like him, as far as Damian could tell. It was of an alien intelligence. Or more specifically, a lack of intelligence? ¡­ Like a virus. Just waiting forever, appearing to not be alive, until some sort of stimuli caused a reaction. He sent his Minions into this derelict Dungeon to put the poor mind out of its misery. He absorbed the Core, growing even further in power. Damian continued on with all the normal Dungeon Core behaviors any reasonable Core should do: Build floors, fill them with traps, and display loot for luring in easily tempted idiots. And, naturally, ceaseless growth without end. Damian Jager, the Stunlocke Dungeon, became the drums and bass deep within the mountain. Chapter 34: A Hattie Tanner Interlude Chapter 34: A Hattie Tanner Interlude Hattie Tanner emerged from the eldritch Dungeon Break, battered and bruised. Scarred and bleeding. Her clothes soaked in enough red to match her ginger hair. She was still below the surface, inside a well lit tunnel that blazed with Witchpyre lanterns. Even this far below, the polar southern winds bit through her dampened attire. Her teeth chattered, despite her high physical stats. She pulled her cloak tighter and trudged up the steep incline. ¡°Just one of you?¡± The tunnel watchman asked. ¡°Is the rest of your party coming or cremated?¡± ¡°Cremated,¡± she answered. ¡°Expedition base camp number 37 has been destroyed. I¡¯m the only survivor.¡± The watchman bowed his head. ¡°The second one this week.¡± ¡°It¡¯s the end of the week, so that¡¯s a good sign,¡± she tried to say cheerfully. ¡°True. Glad to have you back. Get some shut eye, alright?¡± Hattie gave him the faintest acknowledgement and kept walking. The Dungeon was being less aggressive. Even if it didn¡¯t feel like it when she was down in the trenches. This protracted campaign had been going on for over a few years now. Hattie had joined only a few months ago after selling off her home. This gig was scheduled to last for quite a few more years. Ideally. For the last few weeks Hattie and her party had managed to succeed in finally snuffing out the closest Bonpyre respawn point. The Dungeon had decided to retaliate in kind. The mind of the alien Dungeon Core had learned to incorporate the bones of the undead in a way she could have never conceived. Teeth. Entire floors of hot, humid rain forests. Natural mazes filled with toothy foliage. The surprise attack had routed the entire camp into this elaborate trap. It had cost her party their lives. Hattie had spent the last several days just trying to fish their gore out of the jungle. Despite her forty-three years of living in this cruel world, she wouldn¡¯t exactly say she was numb to it by now. Seeing talented adventurers die while on expeditions never got easy. While the required funeral rites removed the burden of a prolonged burial, it was difficult to bring back nothing but ashes and regrets. There were only so many mementos she could carry with her. The urns in her bag burdened her enough. Hattie had liked this party. They had been a good crew. One of them in particular had been a young, talented woman that had shared her bedroll for a few nights. Her mind immediately went to the memory of pulling her mangled body out of the branches. She tried not to think of that. Hattie reported her efforts to the security checkpoint at the end of the tunnel, a large fortification built to withstand entire sieges. She went through the usual ordeal of mandatory screenings and questionnaires. First response guild healers addressed her wounds and examined her mental state. When they were satisfied that her mind had remained intact and that she wasn¡¯t at risk of Burnout, the payroll clerks handed over her daily stipend. The guild members reminded her to take more breaks from Breaks, then sent Hattie on her merry way. For the first time in weeks, she touched foot on the surface. And saw the open night sky. Her mind reeled in awe. The sight never got old. But sometimes it could take her by surprise. The northern lights danced in the sky. They seemingly intertwined amongst the dazzling planetary rings and obsidian moon. The snow for miles around sparkled with applause. The celestial light show felt so close she felt like she could have touched them with a big enough jump. It was a reminder of what she was fighting for. What everyone was fighting for. Amongst the endless glaciers, snow drifts, and icy lakes a small outpost town had been established around the Dungeon entrance. The campaign had gone on so long that perpetual campfires had transformed into permanent kitchens and buildings had been erected around them. The only blight upon her incredible view of the sky was that damn lurching tower made of stone and bone. It rose out of the icy ground like a broken spine rib. It was a demonstration of incredible engineering feats and magical prowess; what one architect could accomplish given an endless fleet of tireless manpower. Many ignorant adventurers had made the mistake of thinking this was actually the Dungeon. They were sorely mistaken. This building was just another institution involved in the war effort against the subterranean depths. The living weren¡¯t the only ones that fought for their own definition of freedom in this world. The undead were equally aligned in their distaste for Dungeons. A Dungeon Core could imprison souls. Cores could tether immortal beings, bind them to service, lock them away, and throw away the key until their minds broke. When human minds broke, their lives ended. When the minds of the dead and Dungeons broke, the world ended. Yet life went on. The Evergreen Ossarchy in particular was not fond of their workers being poached into other terms of work. The corpsocracy would prefer to flood an entire Dungeon with molten aluminum and destroy all the resources, rather than deal with the skull ache of the extra paperwork resulting from a loss in labor force. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Hattie had seen it happen once before. Like pouring liquid metal down an anthill. It had taken weeks to mine out the bodies. As much as the Evergreen hated most Dungeons, they were not fond of Hattie either. Thankfully, their presence in this region was minimal. They had been outbid on this expedition by a rival undead mercenary company. This lurching citadel was no threat to Hattie. The skeletons that prowled those dark halls were of a different mind. She still hated them. The walking dead were a grim reminder of what kind of world she lived in. A party of undead mercenaries shambled by with hollow eyes of flame, headed towards the fortress checkpoint. They carried adventuring gear, clearly designed to help in the defense against the Break. She nodded to them in passing. They nodded back. She could still respect individuals, even if she stood against their masters. The respect was mutual. There were rules and regulations on how Dungeons could be assaulted. The entrance fees for time slots could be exorbitant. Dangerous alien ones were no exception. The only times regulations were ever lifted were in times of international crisis. Which would not happen for a while. Her party¡¯s efforts and the efforts of the undead mercenaries had helped with that. For now, the Dungeon would rest. And so would she. Hattie desperately craved a cup of tea by a warm fire. Her blades needed a good cleaning. She needed a long bath. She needed the comforts of real life. The middle aged adventurer headed straight to the guild hall. It was a sprawling facility with plenty of rooms, services, and facilities. Like a massive research outpost combined with an indoor shopping mall. Upon arriving, the gigantic guild doorman greeted her. "A message arrived for you,¡± he drawled. ¡°Which frog?¡± She asked. ¡°A red one.¡± ¡°A tomato frog? One with black stripes?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the one,¡± he replied. She smiled brightly and thanked him, then rushed inside. In the postal room there was a large room with an indoor pond, like a swimming pool filled with lily pads and algae. Dozens of various colored frogs leaped about, a cacophony of croaks and ribbits. She checked in with the postal worker, who then used a large net on a pool to retrieve the tomato frog. The woman brought him over in cupped hands and grimaced with concern. ¡°This little fellas has already been waiting a few days to deliver his message. I¡¯m sure he can wait a tad longer if you want to get tidied up first¡­ He¡¯s not going anywhere,¡± she said. Hattie held out her hand. ¡°It¡¯s important. It¡¯s a message from my brother. I¡¯ll clean up after.¡± ¡°Alright, suit yourself. Don¡¯t blame me if you get blood on it.¡± She patted the amphibian on the head. She then pressed down on a particular spot in its back. The tomato frog¡¯s eyes bulged for a moment, then closed. Its long tongue shot out. But instead of a normal sticky red tongue, the messenger frog¡¯s tongue was brown, wide, and splotched with black ink. Like parchment paper. The postal worker tore off the piece of paper like it was a receipt, then handed it over to Hattie. The remaining frog tongue raveled and rolled back up into its maw. It croaked, then hopped into the pool with a splash. The exhausted woman covered in blood read Brill¡¯s message scroll with a furrowed look. Perhaps Hattie did deserve a break. Unfortunately, there was no rest for the wicked. The Dungeon here could wait. There was another Dungeon she needed to slay. **** Hattie Tanner despised taking the river ferry. It never sat well with her. But it was a necessary evil if she wanted to get back to Brill and the new homeowner quickly. Even with using her Shortcut Skill, it would have still taken a couple weeks to arrive. After making the proper preparations, she had left the polar outpost and traveled for a full day out of town, reaching the first stop on her journey. The Wild River ferry station. A singular ticket booth marked the entrance. A skeletal guard with a badge pinned to his rib-cage barely looked at her as she approached. His right hand had been replaced with a rubber stamp mold at the wrist. ¡°How many?¡± He asked. ¡°One. Passage to the southern provinces, please,¡± Hattie handed over a journal filled with sketches of the Dungeon. Including drawings of the local fauna and portraits of her adventuring companions. The booth attendant took the book of art and flipped through it. "I don''t like it." He shrugged. "Fine. Hand it back. I''ll pay in coins." "No, this will be payment enough." He set the book aside. His right hand dipped into an ink pad, then he stamped a ticket with it. He slid the ticket over to her. ¡°Enjoy your trip,¡± he said dryly. Then began to look at her sketchbook from the beginning. He took much more time. Across all the necropolis''s and ghost towns that Hattie had visited, they all had populations with one thing in common. The grave shifters all demand eternal entertainment. A drip feed of consuming experiences is their only escape from the grind. Despite all the industrious machinations of the undead, the ability to create evocative works of art had evaded their grasp. In a twist of fate, the unliving required the living. To illuminate the darkness and bring meaning to a hollow existence of drudgery. The ferry station was thankfully covered by a wide canopy to keep the weather at bay while passengers waited in this frozen tundra. Janitorial undead went through the eternal motions of shoveling snow that was only there part of the time or sweeping dust that never had the chance to accumulate. It was an eerily silent place. Except for the chorus of groans and agony in the distance. Hattie averted her eyes. Refusing to look at the river. She could wait patiently for the ferry to arrive. Three hours later it arrived. The ferry was like a sick and twisted reversal of a rowboat. Long metal poles stuck out horizontally from each carriage at even intervals. The living and the undead disembarked. Fresh adventurers for the Dungeon, most likely. Hattie carefully minded the gap, refusing to look down. She situated herself upon one of the long wooden benches. She sat with her hands in her lap, staring at them. Trying to block out the sounds of the River. A whistle blew up front. The ferry began to move. She couldn¡¯t look away any longer. The Wild River had no water. Perhaps it had in ages past. But now it was a well oiled machine. The ''river'' was a shallow trench that ran for miles and miles, built off the literal backs of the shattered men. It ran on unliving manpower and churned with a torrent of grease and bones. The river undulated and groaned. Mangled skeletal hands pulled upon the ferry pole oars, propelling the ride steadily along. It was ghastly, horribly inefficient, and inhumane. It was an example. A display of power for the Evergreen. The Ossarchy made use of every man, no matter how much they were broken. It made Hattie sick. Unfortunately, riding down the Wild River ferry like a roller-coaster was still the fastest way to get to Poppymill from here. As soon as she could, she would gladly hop on another form of transport, like a carriage or an actual river boat. She sat back. Trying to relax. The ferry swayed and the dead moaned. The river surged onward, over hills and through the tundra, glistening like oil in the sunlight. ¡°God almighty,¡± she whispered. ¡°What I wouldn''t give to ride in an automobile again. Hell, I¡¯d even take a cramped overnight bus. Or put up with Spirit airlines again¡­¡± Hattie dearly missed the modern means of transportation from back home. She would rather walk. But her brother needed her to arrive quickly. No matter the world, family was family. Chapter 35: Boiled Water and Frozen Chicken Chapter 35: Boiled Water and Frozen Chicken By the time the sun rose again I had felt quite proud of my accomplishments throughout the night. I had tried to give Jellybee the night off, since I felt like he had deserved it. Besides, the two other skeleton Minions were taking time to rest. Why not have him join? He had been strangely resistant to the idea. So we chatted through the night as I quietly Mana Dusted and Gardencrafted. During the early hours of the morning another creature wandered into The Merriweather Dungeon. He pecked at the dirt absentmindedly. Maybe creature wasn¡¯t the right word. Monster? Perhaps? Regardless, it seemed harmless. I opted to not alert my Minions to the intrusion. I figured Tiptap would eventually chase it off on her own eventually. **** Another rooster cried as the sun rose through Bonny''s bedroom window. The sun had barely peeked over the mountains. Which meant it was an unreasonable time for anyone to be alive. Bonny tried to sleep through it, but couldn''t. Without much thought, Bonny fitfully wrench herself out of bed and threw a shoe out the window towards the offender. There was a surprised squawk. Satisfied, Bonny turned to return to bed. A moment passed. Then a snowball sized white projectile rocketed against the window in front of her. She returned to the window. ¡°Who threw that?¡± She called. Her answer was immediately answered when she saw a bright blue light accumulating within the rooster¡¯s beak. Half a second passed. Then another projectile rocketed at her. She ducked just in time as another shot by, barely missing her head. She turned around to confirm the damage against her bedroom mirror. A crack had formed and it had tilted to the side. Water seeped down the vanity. Yes, the rooster was indeed shooting genuine snowballs at her. She closed the window pane right before another collided into it. She was not going to have a death battle snowball fight before coffee. Dread filled her heart. She knew that bird call had sounded familiar! And that crest was unmistakable in this light. The infernal ice cock bastard was back! Why? Had he followed her up the hill? He let out a triumphant screech, then trotted off out of sight behind the mushroom tree and towards the back of the house. Filled with adrenaline from the wake up call, Bonny decided to get ready for the day, suddenly filled with a craving for fried chicken. She supposed it was better for her to be getting up now. The day could hold many other dangers in store for her. Might as well face them head on. The young witch went over the various notes in her head as she pulled on stockings and laced up a black leather under-bust corset. Bonny had a whole list of things she wanted to do. Her brief home inspection pointed out several concerns and improvements she desired. Like a new paint job, undamaged furnishings, wall decor and art, yard maintenance, personal work spaces¡­ The list was already starting to go on and on... Which would have normally been a monumental and exciting mountain for any first home buyer to climb. Yet she had the benefit of a helpful Dungeon Core that could literally grow renovations. Her home was a Dungeon. She wasn¡¯t sure what to think about that. Last night in her exhaustion she was still tempted to ask the Core to vacate the premises with her Minions. It had almost surprised Bonny to wake up alive. Ethel Merriweather had kept her word and let Bonny sleep in peace.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. But she also wasn¡¯t really surprised about that. The Dungeon Core, somehow, truly did possess the soul of an elderly woman. One that seemed somehow even more lost and confused than Bonny was. That would have to be rectified. According to that creepy messenger, Spinemess, Bonny and the whole town were in dire straits. If these were normal circumstances where Bonny had been properly established in her business matters she could have entertained the idea of running away from the conflict and starting over. But that was not the case. Another foolhardy idea had lodged itself in Bonny¡¯s mind instead. Using the Dungeon to help protect the town seemed impossible. But first, she had to test Ethel¡¯s loyalty. Bonny pulled out her scissors and put on her rainbow glasses. Despite trusting Ethel, Bonny still felt exposed. Slowly, but surely, Bonny spent the next two hours snipping through the Dungeon¡¯s Leyline connections to the master bedroom. By the time she was done, nothing had happened. She let out a deep breath she had been holding in and slid against the wall. Relief loosened her tense muscles. The whole time Bonny was poised to run. Or jump out the window if she needed to. She waited for a spell, listening. She kept her glasses on and paid attention to the severed threads of Mana that tangled upon themselves chaotically without direction. Ethel had not sent any Minions or had even tried to speak with Bonny during the entire process. Dungeons tended to react very negatively towards their Leylines being cut. Usually with terrible violence. Especially if the area was part of their original ¡®body.¡¯ Which made sense, in a way. Cores used their environment to perceive and influence the world. Manually reducing the size of their Dungeon was the equivalent of gouging out someone¡¯s eyes or slicing off a limb. Unless Ethel decided to spread again, the master bedroom would be cut off from Ethel¡¯s influence entirely. Bonny crept down the stairs. Ethel¡¯s ghostly avatar sat in her rocking chair next to the Pyreplace, same as usual, Knitting with two ethereal needles. Tiptap lay curled around the Dungeon Core. The Neverwatch Pot Simmered and brewed over the Witchpyre. The living room had a slightly metallic smell to it, mixed with a hint of bergamot. There were also other minor renovations that had occurred during the night while Bonny had slept. A full sized kitchen table sat next to the backdoor, complete with dining chairs situated around it. In another corner was what appeared to be a scratch post tree, where Tiptap¡¯s copy was taking a nap. Glancing out the front window, Bonny could see that the log Brill threw at the house was gone, along with the other front porch debris. The expression on the avatar¡¯s face looked pained and exhausted, with sunken eyes. She looked up from her knitting at Bonny, then grinned brightly. ¡°About time you dragged your ass out of bed,¡± Ethel said. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting all morning to unwrap these presents like a kid before Christmas! Hurry and eat some breakfast so you can help me choose.¡± **** ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I asked. ¡°You look troubled, dear.¡± Bonny was sitting at the new dining table with a cup of earl gray tea and a bowl of oats before her. (At least, I think it was earl gray. Or something similar to that. The leaves had that bergamot scent to them.) She had frowned as I had read the ability descriptions back to her verbatim. ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± she replied. She took a sip of tea. ¡°Jellybee, this is¡­ better. Keep it up.¡± Jellybee saluted casually. ¡°Granny taught me a lot about tea last night. Who knew boiling the water made it taste better?¡± ¡°I can see that,¡± Bonny responded. ¡°I see you both got a lot done during the night,¡± she tapped on the table. ¡°What else did you get up to?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t change the subject,¡± I said. ¡°What¡¯s got your grits burnin¡¯?¡± ¡°It¡¯s nothing. Really.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t give me that rubbish, Bonny. I can tell your cornbread ain¡¯t done in the middle. Speak up.¡± She sighed. ¡°You¡¯re so weird, Ethel. I¡¯m fine. Just puzzled about this weird favoritism you¡¯ve been receiving. I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s the difference between Dungeons and other sapient beings, or something specific to you.¡± ¡°Elaborate,¡± I said. ¡°Well, System Clerks aren¡¯t exactly known for adding in personal touches. In all of my life, every notification I¡¯ve ever received has maintained a strictly professional tone. The System has always sounded like it''s running a business. I haven¡¯t heard of anyone getting such informal words. Let alone friendly advice.¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s just Milly,¡± I said without thinking. ¡°Fiddlesticks!¡± I had forgotten. I was so excited to share my options that I hadn¡¯t realized I should have given her the cliff notes instead. ¡°I, uh, wasn¡¯t supposed to tell you that¡­ Can you keep it a secret, please? I don¡¯t want that other lady to drop a dime on Milly.¡± ¡°Who¡¯s Milly?¡± Her face crinkled in confusion. ¡°And what¡¯s a dime?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it!¡± I coughed. ¡°Pretend you didn''t hear anything. So! What do you think?¡± The devilish witch crossed her arms. ¡°Who¡¯s changing the subject now?¡± ¡°Oh, oh no. I¡¯m feeling compelled to make rash decisions and select abilities at random. Mercy me!¡± I feigned. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare!¡± ¡°I dare you!¡± Jellybee added. ¡°Then help me before I start taking career advice from Jellybee!¡± Bonny grimaced at that. She thought for a moment, fingernails tapping on the table. ¡°Read them all back to me one more time?¡± ¡°You weren¡¯t listening the first time? Clean out that earwax.¡± She huffed. ¡°It¡¯s difficult to parse what the abilities do. There¡¯s no description at all for the first Skills and Powers you got? No drop-downs, pop ups, or blue lettering? No detail or informal advice regarding Scrapbook Soulstew or Gardencraft? And none of the offerings from your first level up returned?¡± ¡°Nope. Nada. Zilch,¡± I said firmly. ¡°Are you sure there¡¯s no option to turn Tool-tips back on?¡± ¡°Positive. I spent half the night looking.¡± ¡°Then I need to hear them again, to read in between the lines.¡± I grumbled, but complied. I slowly read through my stat screen, including all the Skill and Power descriptions I had received on both level ups before this point. Then read through all the new options I had been offered on this most recent level up I received last night. Chapter 36: Read ‘Em and Sweep, Boys! Chapter 36: Read ¡®Em and Sweep, Boys! : : :