Chapter 47 (Patreon)

Chapter 47

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The process of getting Mongo to bond with Donut took the rest of our time on the second floor. It also, for whatever reason, appeared to be endlessly amusing to the general public. The continuing fallout from the Maestro sex tape along with Donut getting her nose chomped over and over and over by her new “pet” seemed to be a winning combination, in terms of views at least. Even though we faced no more bosses or major battles for the remainder of our time on this floor, we were far from idle. Zev was beside herself with our numbers, which apparently were exceptionally good for the second floor. 

We received daily updates from the PR agent. The pet was playing well. Zev implored me to stop training with the slingshot. Nobody liked me using the “boring” slingshot, she claimed, not when I could toss a stick of dynamite instead. I ignored her advice and continued practicing with it. I’d managed to get the skill up to five. And while the tiny stones did very little damage, they had the ability to knock the brindled vespas out of the air. A single hit to one of the hornet’s wings caused it to crash to the ground and make it unable to spit its acid. A follow-up magic missile from Donut—whose skill in the spell had risen to eight—usually killed them off. We didn’t need to wander far when we had an almost endless supply of the level-eight hornets to hunt. 

The first thing we did after winning Mongo was go talk to Mordecai. The creature fit in the gerbil cage. Barely. It wasn’t ideal, and it was cruel to keep him in there. But if I carried him in my hands, he spent every free moment trying to bite me. If we stuck him in the cage, it allowed us to take him into a safe room without having to worry about him teleporting away. That is, as long as we kept our fingers away from the bars. 

“Don’t ask me about that thing until you start the bonding process,” Mordecai said. “The rules are a little weird about taming dungeon pets.” In his cage, Mongo screamed and hissed at the guide. “Once you figure out how to remove his automatic hostility, which is the first step, come back, and I’ll give you more info.” 

“Remove his hostility? Like how I did with the danger dingoes?” I asked.

“That’s right. You can’t bond with a creature when its aggro is activated. If you see that dot turn white, come back here, and I can help after that.” 

Donut and I opened up our loot boxes from the boss fight. Donut—“coincidentally”—received a spellbook of Heal Critter. I received yet another Potion of Determine Value (which had come from a Looter Box, not a boss box last time) and 1,000 gold coins. I wondered about that. There seemed to be a reason why the system kept giving these things to me. I drank it down, and I had a few new sort options for my inventory, including a new history tab. I would explore all that later. It still didn’t tell me what the monetary value of my individual items were. 

I also received an achievement for feeding the danger dingoes. 

New achievement! PETA Enthusiast!

You somehow managed to remove the hostility of an aggravated non-sapient enemy. That enemy then fought against other enemies to your benefit. The ghost of Steve Irwin smiles down upon you.

Reward: I SAID THE GHOST OF STEVE IRWIN SMILES DOWN UPON YOU.   

“Okay,” I said. “So let’s talk about the third floor.” 

“All right, here we go,” Mordecai said. He rubbed his furry hands together. “Here’s the deal.” 

He indicated a pair of chairs, asking us to sit. I sat down, placing Mongo’s cage on the floor between me and Donut. The guide seemed oddly excited about this. I noticed for the first time that he’d cleaned up his chambers. His bed was made. The shelves with the picture of his brother and the urn with his mother had been straightened and dusted. 

Once we were settled, he continued. “You’re going to go down the stairs, and you will immediately find yourself back in this room. You will first choose your race, then your class, and then you will distribute your stat points. From there, I will give you information on class guilds, if applicable. Not all classes have guilds.” 

“How many choices will there be for race?” I asked. 

“A lot. It is unique every season, and the both of you will have a different pool of choices. The class choices will depend on your racial choice. You know how in every new Olympics they introduce a few new sports, usually ones associated with the host country? That’s how it is with classes. The base classes will always be available. Fighter, mage, rogue, bard, cleric, etcetera. But there will also be additional, more specialized classes available, including new, earth-specific classes.” 

“What does that mean, though? Earth-specific classes?” 

“I don’t know yet. I won’t see the list until you do. But you will have an incentive to pick one of these classes. They like it when crawlers pick the new classes because it’s good for ratings. The system AI...” He paused, making sure I was paying attention. “Again, the system AI and not Borant will give you some recommendations based on your preexisting skills. These recommendations are generally good. However, these recommendations do not take into account how these choices might affect your standing socially. Does that make sense?” 

“Yes,” I said. “The AI might say it’ll be best to turn into a rock monster paladin, and I’d be a badass, but it might also tank my views.” 

“Exactly. I will also be allowed to offer limited advice. After class selection, your stat points will automatically distribute up to the race and class minimums, and you will be free to distribute the rest as you please. However, you, Donut, can’t distribute stats because of your Enhanced Growth buff. You’ll want to find something that comes with a boost to Constitution if you can. Got it?” 

“Got it,” I said. Donut grunted assent. 

“Wait a second,” I said. “What was your class? I know you chose a Changeling as your race. But what was your class?” 

“I chose Arcanist, which allowed me to explore several different magic schools. Certain classes can further specialize when they hit the sixth floor. It was then that I chose the fire path. I was a Changeling Fire Mage Arcanist. It worked out well for me. I ended up a few levels behind people who went straight to fire magic, but I could still wield other magics without a big penalty.”

“So you didn’t pick one of the special classes for your planet?” 

He frowned slightly. “I almost chose a Skyfowl class, something called a Storm Commander. But Odette talked me out of it. My brother ended up picking it instead on her recommendation.”

I paused, my eyes immediately moving to the framed photo on the shelf. He’d mentioned his brother a few times, but I hadn’t realized he’d been a crawler. I’d assumed he’d been lost during his planet’s initial collapse.     

“Finally, there’s the matter of the third floor itself,” Mordecai said, making it perfectly clear he had no desire to go down that conversational path. “I prefer to explain it when you get there because there’s a lot to take in. It’s not something you need to worry about just yet? Okay?” 

“Sure,” I said, standing. “Now…”

Thwum. 

“Mongo!” Donut cried. 

I’d stood too close to the cage, and the monster tried to bite me. He teleported away. 

“Whoops,” I said. 

“Carl, you scared him!” 

“I scared him?” I picked up the now-empty cage. “Well, that sucks. I guess it wasn’t meant to…” 

Donut bolted out the door, yelling, “Mongo! Mongo!” 

“Goddamnit, Donut,” I cried, running after the cat. “Don’t go out there alone!”  

We eventually found the thing huddled in the main hall, crying like a baby, squawking at the top of his little chicken lungs. 

“There you are! You’re going to get lost! Don’t wander like that!” Donut cried, out of breath.

The dinosaur looked up. The little shit looked like he’d been crying. His beady, reptilian eyes grew giant when he saw us. He ran right to Donut, little arms out, like a long-lost puppy reuniting with his owner. 

“It’s okay, I’m here,” Donut said.

He rushed up and chomped her directly on the nose.   

~

The next day consisted of grinding, killing brindled vespas, and wrangling Mongo. 

We quickly learned that only one thing stopped the thing from trying to murder me and Donut:  

Seeing another mob. 

If any sort of enemy came anywhere near us, the crazy chicken went absolutely apeshit. He screamed and snapped and tried to kill himself in an attempt to get to the creature. He was like a goddamned psychotic wolverine hopped up on bath salts.

But other than his ability to inflict punishing nose chomps, the dinosaur chicken remained mostly harmless. I was afraid to let him near any mobs, even simple brindle grubs in fear he’d get himself stomped.    

But in the end, that’s exactly what we needed to do. It was the recap episode that gave me the clue. We were only on the program for a few short moments, but I learned something important. The four-eyed, orange-hued host of the show mentioned that Mongo was a pack hunter. That gave me an idea. After the episode, we went out and found a lone brindle grub struggling its way down a hall. 

“You need to show him how to kill it,” I said. “I’m going to let him free, and you two kill it together.” 

“You mean I gotta use my claws?” Donut asked. 

“Yep,” I said. 

She sighed. “All right. Who knew being a mother would be this difficult?” 

I opened the cage, and Mongo shot out like a bullet toward the level-two brindle grub, who squeaked and tried to crawl away. The little dinosaur leaped in the air, slashing with his clawed feet and chomping down on the bug. The health bar on the grub appeared, but it barely went down. 

“Look, these guys are juicy on the inside,” Donut said, coming up behind the two combatants. “If you cut here, all the stuff falls out and they’re dead.” She rolled the grub over and cut with her claw along the bug’s stomach, like she was unzipping it. The grub shuddered and died, spilling white goo everywhere. 

Mongo shrieked with joy and began to vigorously devour the remains, filling himself up so much his stomach bulged afterward. The little dinosaur puked on the floor and then ate that, too. 

“Christ, that’s disgusting,” I said.

“Good boy. Good Mongo!” Donut cried. 

Mongo stood on top of the grub’s remains and peed. Luckily the ban only applied to humans otherwise we’d have summoned about 100 elementals that first day.  

“Come on, let’s keep killing,” Donut said. The next hall down held three grubs. I followed at a distance while they rushed over and tried it again. 

Mongo seemed to have been paying attention. He managed to kill the second grub by himself, slicing open its belly with the hooked claw on his foot. He bounced up and down with excitement after he did it. 

By the time he’d finished off all three grubs, Mongo’s dot turned from red to white. He still wasn’t “bonded” to Donut, but he no longer attacked us. Actually, that wasn’t true. He still attacked, but not as much. We didn’t need the cage anymore. He followed us on foot, sometimes running ahead, sometimes hopping sideways and lagging behind. If we approached an unknown mob, I had to stick him back in the cage, however. He did not like that one bit.  

Despite killing a dozen grubs, he remained at level one. We decided it was time to go back to Mordecai. 

“So, pets,” Mordecai said after we returned to the guild. “I’m limited in what I can tell you at this point, but I can now reveal you’re on the right track. Keep doing what you’re doing. That’s the good news. The bad news is you need to hurry. If he’s not bonded by the time the floor collapses, you won’t be able to bring him with you.”

We had barely forty hours left. 

“Oh no,” Donut cried. “Carl, we need to get back out there!” 

“Just a minute,” I said. “I have a couple pet questions. Can we have more than one?” 

“It depends,” he said. “There are multiple types of pets. The quick answer is no, you generally can’t have more than one. But there are lots of exceptions. Some classes and some races allow for crawlers to have multiple pets. Also, if you have an especially high charisma, like Donut, you can also have multiples of certain types of pets. Also, pets with crawler IDs don’t count toward that number. So if Donut had still been classified as a pet, you’d have been able to bond with another. Crawler pets and dungeon familiars are actually a different sort of thing. That’s why that Lucia Mar kid can have those two dogs without any issues. There’s also this one lady who brought like 15 goats in with her, and she’s still alive, and so are the goats. It’s bizarre. There’s this one show that is obsessed with her.” 

“So why isn’t he leveling up?” I asked. “It’s like he’s not getting any experience at all.” 

Mordecai nodded. “Pet-class mobs are a little different. You got him from a treasure room, but it’s the same as if you’d purchased him from a shop. Mobs that start out as a pet class will always be level one regardless of what they usually are when you find them in the dungeon. And they’ll stay level one until they’re bonded. Only then will they start to level. Once they do start gaining experience, though, they will grow rapidly. He’ll get physically more mature each level up.” 

“The description says he’s fully grown at level 15. Is that as high as he can get?” I asked. 

“Oh no,” Mordecai said. “Not even close. He just won’t get physically bigger after that.” 

“How big will he get?” Donut asked, looking down at the chicken who was running in circles around Mordecai’s room, shrieking. 

“I can’t tell you,” he said. “But that little cage you’ve been using isn’t going to work for much longer. You need to more than just bond with him. You need to teach him restraint, or he is going to die, and he might just take you down with him if he aggravates the wrong mob. Any attempt at stealth is out the window until he learns to behave himself.”

Mongo responded by running up to Mordecai and leap-attacking his leg. It took us a good bit to find where he’d teleported to. He’d entered the hallway across from our current quadrant and was in the process of wrangling with one of those level-three cow-tailed brindle grubs. He didn’t quite yet have the chops to take one of those things out on his own, but the ferocious little dino was doing an admirable job of dodging the grub’s tail swipes.  

We spent the next several hours trying to train him with dog commands. “Attack” and “come” and even “lay down” worked really well. “Stay,” was another story.  

Donut was surprisingly patient during this time. But Mongo was very food motivated, and he loved pet biscuits, which made him easier to train. After a full day, we managed to keep him from just outright charging every time he saw something. He’d snarl and squawk and hop up and down, but he wouldn’t plunge head first into battle until Donut said the command, which had somehow evolved from “attack” to “sic ‘em.” 

When the timer was down to ten hours, we had to start carving our way toward the stairwell. We didn’t have a choice. Mongo still hadn’t officially bonded with Donut, and I was getting pretty worried it wasn’t going to happen.

We were now exclusively fighting the brindled vespas. Despite the dungeon halving the number of hornets in the dungeon, they were still everywhere. The mobs gave a decent amount of experience, and we both hit level 13.  

Out of desperation, we finally allowed Mongo to participate in the fights. 

If there were more than a couple hornets in a hallway, we didn’t fuck around. I tossed in an explosive. But if there was only one or two, I grounded them with my slingshot, and Donut hit them with magic missiles. Sometimes a single missile wasn’t enough to kill them. That’s when we’d send Mongo in to enthusiastically finish them off. The little beast was getting good at using his claw to rip open the thorax of the downed bugs. 

In the hallway just outside the stair chamber, the same hallway we’d run through a few days earlier during our fight with the rage elemental, Mongo rushed in to finish off a hornet monster. The vespa grabbed at Mongo with his human-like hand, capturing the small creature. The mob had been mostly dead, but apparently not dead enough. 

This mob lifted the screaming and struggling chicken in the air and moved to toss in into his enormous, toothed mouth. 

“Put Mongo down!” Donut screamed, flying across the hallway and slashing at the bug. I’d never seen her move that fast. She decapitated the monster with a quick slash, and all three of them fell into a heap on the ground. 

“Carl, Carl, something happened,” Donut said a minute later. 

“I see that,” I said, walking up. I felt an odd combination of relief and dread. “It finally worked. Congratulations.” 

On the minimap, Mongo’s dot had turned from white to orange. 

“Wait, I can name officially him now,” she said. “I have a new menu and everything!” 

Mongo the Mongoliensis Level One (Pet of Grand Champion Best in Dungeon Princess Donut) has joined the party. 

Mongo’s title has been changed to Royal Steed. 

“We did it,” Donut cried, hopping up and down. “We tamed Mongo!” 

Mongo also jumped up and down next to the cat. He squawked with delight, waving his little arms. And then he bit Donut right on the nose. 

~

So with seven hours left—one before the recommended time to descend—we camped out in the room with the stairs. 

I sat on the ground playing with my menus while Donut and Mongo ran in circles around the large chamber, playing vigorously. Donut was instructing Mongo on the art of pouncing. I watched, smiling. My heart felt heavy as I watched them. What would the next floor hold? How much longer could we survive? 

I thought of Mordecai and his brother, of that time we’d caught Mordecai unaware. He’d been drunk, holding onto that framed picture. This game, this terrible, cruel game left scars that spanned centuries. I thought of the cheering crowds, watching this all from the safety of their homes. 

You will not break me. Fuck you all. You will not break me. 

As we waited for the timer to hit six hours, I thought back to that odd boss prize I received after killing the gerbil. I would’ve thought that defeating the boss in such a manner would’ve garnered me a better prize. The dungeon AI wasn’t my friend. It wasn’t on my side. I knew that. But surely I should’ve gained something good. 

I pulled up my inventory menu. I now had a new tab labeled History. I clicked on it, and it was filled with pretty much the same junk I had now, but with the chopper and a few extra potions and scrolls and bits of things I’d used to build other items. Curious, clicked to sort it by value. 

I practically choked. Listed at the very top of my menu were three items I’d never seen before. I clicked over to make sure I didn’t have them now. I didn’t. 

What the actual hell? 

I looked about, afraid to say anything out loud. Was this some sort of bug? I went back to the menu and examined the three items. The tooltips didn’t go into the same detail they would if I still had the items on me, though I could see their names and what category my inventory would place them in. 

Trans Tunnel 7C Orator Relay by Valtay Corp. – Inter-Tunnel Communications Device.  

Valtay Perso-Shield Platinum Edition. – Tech-based Personal Shield.

Mag 3040 Valtay Corp Pulse Pistol. – Tech-based Weapon.  

The first item had a red exclamation point next to it. I hovered over the red mark, and a warning popped up. 

Warning: The System AI governing this program has deemed all non-sanctioned and monitored communication devices illegal, and they will not work within the dungeon. You may own and sell illegal devices, but any attempt to use or circumvent dungeon rules will result in immediate disqualification.  

I was completely at a loss. 

“Somebody’s coming,” Donut said. “There’s a blue dot moving toward us.” 

My first thought was Frank and Maggie. I jumped to my feet and pulled up the map. It wasn’t them. The moment I saw who it was, though, I realized I knew exactly where those items in my inventory had come from. The realization hit me like a brick. Well that’s a weird coincidence.

“Agatha,” I said. “Holy shit, she’s still alive.” 

I had taken her entire shopping cart into my inventory during that boss battle with the Ball of Swine. So much had happened so quickly during that battle, I never actually examined the individual items of her cart. I never even thought to do it. I looked now, and sure enough all of it was there. The shopping cart. An inordinate amount of IKEA bags and cans of spray paint. Blankets. Clothes. And a goddamned “Pulse  pistol.” All three of the items appeared to be manufactured by the same company. The Valtay Corporation. 

My mind raced. I thought of what Brandon had said. Agatha had been the one to set their old folk’s home on fire, bringing everyone outside. The act had, temporarily, saved the lives of hundreds of people. But, did she work for Borant? Had someone just given her that stuff, and she didn’t know what it was? And why the hell hadn’t she shown up on the recap episode? Should I say something? 

“You ain’t dead,” Agatha said a few minutes later as she wheeled the squeaking shopping cart into the room. The woman was still level four, the same she’d been since the boss battle with the tusklings. 

“Where have you been?” I asked, moving toward her.

“Don’t touch me,” she cried, shuffling faster toward the stairs. “You’re a cart thief. I don’t trust cart thieves.” 

“Hey, I gave it back,” I said. 

She didn’t answer. She just pushed her cart toward the stairs. 

I was tempted to grab her cart again, but only for a second. Whatever this was, it was something well beyond my current ability to understand or process. And getting involved with it probably wasn’t good for my health, especially when I didn’t know what the hell was going on. Never trust someone if their motivations aren’t clear. Odette had said that to me. Still, I was overwhelmed with curiosity.  

I thought of that saying. Curiosity killed the cat. 

Mongo screamed at Agatha, but Donut whispered a quiet command, and the little monster held back. Agatha gave the dinosaur no heed. 

The stairs had already turned into a ramp thanks to the earlier descent by Brandon and crew. 

“I see the others made it down,” Agatha muttered as she pushed the cart forward. 

“You should wait ten minutes,” I called. “If you go down now, you’ll lose six hours. Plus I need to talk to you… About your shopping cart.” I added that last part without thinking, and I immediately regretted it. Don’t get involved, you idiot!

Agatha paused, then. The woman gave me a sharp look. Through her rheumy eyes, I saw a warning there. It was as plain as if she had hissed at me. No, those eyes said. Stop now. 

“I can fix the wheel,” I quickly added. “It’s squeaking. They can hear you coming.” 

She blinked, and the look went away so quickly I wondered if I had imagined it. 

“No need to fix m’squeak, boy. Them critters already know I’m here. They just don’t know what to do about it. You worry about you, and I worry about me.” 

She continued down the stairs, quickly disappearing from view. 

Zev: Are you guys okay? 

DONUT: WE ARE FINE ARE YOU OKAY? 

Zev: Okay, false alarm. I see you know. There was a brief outage there in the feed. It happens sometimes. Odette says she’s ready whenever you are, so feel free to go down starting in seven minutes. I won’t be able to talk to you until after you’re done with the race and class selection. I guess I’ll see you guys on the other side. Good luck. 

Carl: How long was the feed out? 

Zev: Just a couple minutes. It’s been acting funky all day. Don’t worry, it’s nothing unusual. People are always complaining about it. I’m on planet, and I still have feed issues. 

Them critters already know I’m here. They just don’t know what to do about it.

Christ, I thought. What sort of bullshit was this? I thought back to the inventory potion. The moment I’d discovered the items, Agatha had appeared. Was that a coincidence? Was she working with the system AI? I shook my head. 

A week and a half ago, I’d been planning on kidnapping a prize-winning cat and then selling everything I owned in order to bribe my ex-girlfriend to keep her from suing me. And even that was more drama than I wanted to deal with. All of this… with the Bone Empire and everything else. It was just too much, too fast. How could we focus on surviving when we all this other stuff to deal with? 

I sighed. I watched the timer finally run down to six hours. 

“Come on, Donut,” I said. “Let’s see what this third floor is all about.” 

“Do you think it’ll be as exciting as the second floor?” she asked. 

“I hope not,” I said. 

Mongo screeched.

End of Part 2