Chapter 54 (Patreon)

“What was your name again?” Signet asked me. She didn’t move from her arms-out Jesus pose.

“Uh, Carl,” I said as I frantically searched the map for the best way to flee. We had nowhere to go. I regretted making Donut use her Puddle Jumper spell already. The spell had a five-hour countdown, and we really could’ve used it about now. 

“Carl. What a strong name. Be a dear, Sir Carl. You seem like a strapping lad,” Signet said. “Please keep those Mold Lions off of me while I organize my battle squad. I usually have this part done before I have to face them. Your presence distracted me, so it’s only fair. Besides, if you run, they will take you down.” 

“Carl, I don’t like this,” Donut whispered as I put Mongo down. “I think we’re in real trouble.”   

“Get ready,” I said. I formed a fist and faced the closest red dot. It was right there, fifty feet away, across the street and down the alley from the house with the basement. But I couldn’t see it. I watched the dot move toward us. The mob moved through the building.  

No, not through the building. On the building. It was on the roof. I looked up and tried not to gasp.

Mold Lion – Level 15 

Mean, green, and it gonna eat yo spleen!

Madam Kiki’s Dancing Lions were an integral part of Grimaldi’s Traveling Circus. Crowds would roar in approval as the diminutive lion trainer stood in the middle of the ring, cracked her whip, and the dozen male lions took to their hindlegs and twirled like ballerinas. What a sight it was!  

On the day of the great cataclysm, the gentle and tame lions were some of the first to transform. The spores of Scolopendra took quick root within the lions, turning them into the fiends you see today. 

Like with all early victims of the cataclysm, these creatures are filled with rage. They will stop at nothing until your innards wet the floorboards of the Over City. 

“That was needlessly gruesome,” Donut muttered as I gawked up at the lion. 

The monster was a regular-sized, male lion with a mane. Half of his body was covered with a green, lumpy, glowing fungus that pulsated like he was being eaten. The green mold covered his legs and chest, and splattered tendrils of the stuff covered the lion’s face, like a pair of hands caressing it from behind. The lion’s right eye glowed like an emerald. Erupting from his mane were the tentacles. Dozens of long, pink and green, finger-like worms waved in the air, making the creature appear to be some sort of fucked-up cat medusa. 

The monster roared. Behind me, an answering roar followed. Then a third. The lions appeared all around us, all of them on the roofs of the buildings. They were going to pounce at any moment. 

“Holy shit lady, how long is this going to take?” I called to the woman. We now had six lions circling us.

The half-naiad’s eyes glowed. The tattoos swirled faster and faster along her skin. She did not answer.  

For the past day, I’d been trying to organize scenarios such as this in my mind. We needed to come up with contingencies, ways to respond to certain threats. If Donut and I trained, we could call out the play and each of us would know how to respond in a way where we worked together. I had one such contingency already worked out in my head, something for this exact scenario—surrounded by powerful monsters. The problem was I hadn’t explained this yet to Donut. 

I looked about for the strongest-looking wall. There. Just on the other side of Signet. 

“Okay, Donut,” I said as I slowly circled behind Signet. I had to mentally gauge the distance. “Save your magic until I tell you. Can you take another potion yet?” 

“Yes,” she said, voice full of fear. Mongo stayed under my feet. “What’re we doing!” 

“Got a plan. When I say, cast that last scroll of Confusing Fog. Okay? Get it re… Oh shit, now, now!” 

All six lions pounced at once, and their terrifying roar filled the dark street.

I slammed down on Protective Shell. 

Earlier, I’d tossed a goblin smoke bomb, and it’d caught in the wind, resulting in the bomb being rendered ineffective. The Confusing Fog didn’t have that problem. 

The lions bounced off the shell like fireflies off a bug zapper. Each of the six lions ricocheted in a different direction, all of them howling in outrage as the billowing eddies of fog spread out around us. 

Signet, as I hoped, was not affected by my shield, she remained within the spell’s area of effect. 

The magical shell would only last twenty seconds. The translucent-only-to-the-good-guys fog, however, would stick around for a good two and a half minutes thanks to Donut’s high intelligence. 

As I hoped, one of the lions bounced off the shell and flew into the sturdy wall of the building. I’d judged the distance correctly, and the lion was momentarily caught between the wall and the dome shape of the spell. The spell pushed the lion against the wall as it blindly scrambled for purchase with its claws. The lion had nowhere to go, and he hung just a couple feet off the ground, wedged in good. He was on his side, back against the wall and belly facing us, angled downward. Blind and confused, it howled and scrambled, unable to push off the shell. In a second he’d figure out that rotating would save him and allow him to use his legs to push off the wall. I had to act fast. 

Its body sparked where it came into contact with the shield. A damage bar appeared and slowly started to descend. Behind me, another lion roared in pain as one of his friends instinctively slashed at him. I bolted forward, pulled my fist back and punched the trapped lion in the mold-covered chest just as he started to rotate. 

He howled in pain and tried to slash at me but couldn’t angle his claws—which were inches from my face—past the invisible shell. I punched again and again. I felt something give. My next punch went deeper than I expected. 

Mongo screamed and flew through the air, attaching himself to the lion’s unprotected belly, ripping at it as I pulled my dripping gauntlet and punched again. My hand entered the chest cavity, and I opened my fist, grasped and pulled. 

I fell back onto my ass as the entire lion plummeted to the ground and rolled toward me. Surely it hadn’t been twenty seconds yet? The green mold turned black before my eyes, and the worm tentacles all dropped, mixing in with the matted and dirty hair of the mold lion.  

It was dead. 

Mongo shrieked with glee. The dinosaur grew before my eyes. I wasted a precious second staring stupidly at the mold-covered lion heart in my hand. Holy shit. I pulled his fucking heart out. I pulled out the heart of a fucking lion. 

“Second Chance,” I cried, scrambling to my feet as I put the heart into my inventory. 

Donut’s spell only cost ten of her 29 magic points.  

The protective shell fizzled out just as the reanimated lion rose to its feet. It stood, both eyes dead, guts trailing from where Mongo had eviscerated it. Signet still hadn’t moved or changed.

Undead Minion of Crawler Princess Donut – Mold Lion – Level 5

The zombies were a third as powerful as their former selves, but they weren’t blind. 

“Kill,” Donut cried, pointing at the closest lion. The zombie growled and pounced, landing on the back of a lion whose health was already cut in half. It was over in a second, the zombie having ripped open the throat of his confused friend. 

I shouted instructions at Donut as I formed a fist. At any moment the four remaining lions would realize we were unprotected.    

Donut rose the second lion from the dead and downed a mana potion. She then spent 26 points to cast Clockwork Triplicate on the new zombie with the ripped-out throat. 

“Kill the others!” Donut cried. Two of the lions jumped forward to attack. A moment later, the other two followed, wading into the fray. 

The two automatons fell into pieces before the final the lion was dead. The two zombies also fell to the last lion, whose health was down to nothing. It growled, looking about just as the fog started to clear. 

Mongo squealed and charged. 

Donut hit the lion with a magic missile just as it swiped at the dinosaur. It dropped dead. Mongo, oblivious that Donut had just saved the idiot’s life, pounced, landing on the lion’s back and started ripping. He’d gone up to level six I now saw. He was now a hand taller than donut, about the size of an actual turkey. His tail was longer, too. A set of long feathers sprouted from the back of the tail. 

Donut and I were both now level 14. A notification popped up telling me I couldn’t assign my points until I reached a saferoom. 

“Well, that was unexpected,” Signet said. 

I turned to look at the woman. Nothing had happened. Her tattoos stopped swirling around her body, though they continued to move as they did before. Her eyes no longer glowed. I’d been expecting her tattoos to turn into the monsters. Her description had stated she was a summoner, and she’d said she was summoning her “battle squad.” 

“What’s going on?” I said. “Did your spell not work?” 

“No, it didn’t,” she said. She had a sour look on her face. “My spells are Blood Magic. They require a proper sacrifice to work. I choose the sacrifice and cast the spell, and my lovelies take the blood and form.” 

I indicated the six dead lions. “You have blood right here.” Down the street, the group of circus creatures cried in outrage once they realized the lions were all dead. We needed to get out of here. The mortars were going to start firing again at any moment. 

“I can’t use them,” she said. As I watched, one of the lions twitched. I jumped back and formed a fist. Donut screeched and leaped onto my shoulder. A green line of mold oozed off the lion and hit the ground. It started creeping back toward the circus. 

Donut fired a magic missile at the ground. The mold shriveled and died. 

“Don’t bother,” Signet said. “The mold isn’t dangerous. Not directly, and you won’t get it all no matter how hard you try. Believe me. You can incinerate the bodies, and you’ll still miss some. All it takes is a single, microscopic spore to get back to the bloom, and tomorrow this lion will be regrown and ready to attack again.” She sighed. “Let’s back up a block before those acrobats start shooting at us. This night’s attack is canceled. What a disappointment. My boys were really looking forward to it.”   

We walked away from the circus to the jeers of the clowns. A few mortars did fire, though we were clearly out of range. 

“You can only cast that summoning once a night?” I asked. 

Signet gave me a half smile. Her ghoulish face looked downright sinister. “That is correct, Carl.” 

Donut: CARL I DO NOT LIKE THIS LADY EVEN IF HER DOT IS WHITE. WE NEED TO DITCH HER.

Carl: We will. She’s even crazier than you think. Let me do the talking. Get ready to run just in case, but I don’t think we’ll have to. I want to get some info from her first. I don’t think she’s dangerous, not anymore, not as long as we don’t provoke her. 

“So,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Which one of us was supposed to be the sacrifice? Me or the cat?” 

“You, of course,” Signet said, not a bit surprised I’d figured it out. “The moment one of those lions cut you open, all of your blood would’ve flown into me and animated my squad. We’ve never used primal blood before, but I can sense how powerful it is. But you received nary a scratch.”

“Wait,” I said. “All my blood would’ve flowed out of me even if I’d just received a single cut?” 

I’d already deduced the real reason why her spell hadn’t worked. She didn’t really want us to protect her. She’d wanted to charm me and then have me die while defending her. She hadn’t been casting her spell while all those tattoos were swirling about. She’d already cast it, and they were just waiting for my blood. This NPC was crazy and dangerous, but she was also clearly part of the quest, and I intended on getting the full story.

“Just a single cut wouldn’t do it. It has to be a life-ending cut. I must say, it can be a hassle.”  

“What sort of creature do you usually use?” I asked. 

She shrugged. “I usually catch something, the bigger the better. I’m not allowed to bleed the sacrifice myself. Otherwise I would’ve just killed you. I have to capture something and then capture a second, different something, put them together so they fight, guess which one is going to lose, and then cast my spell on the loser before they receive their first injury. The moment they’re dead, my battle squad arises. How powerful they are depends wholly on the quality of the blood.” 

Donut: SHE GOING TO TRY TO CAPTURE US, CARL. WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE. 

Donut was right. It was stupid to keep following her. I paused in the street. We were only two blocks over now from the saferoom. But before we left, I had to ask one last question. The all-important question. 

“Why are you attacking them?” I asked. 

She indicated a tall, white building. “My home is over there. I moved in because it is close to the bloom, and the circus can no longer move from their spot. I have refreshments. If you’d like to join me for an evening drink, I will regale you with the sad tale of Signet the Bastard and Grimaldi, the man she loved.” 

“Bastards can be girls?” Donut asked, speaking for the first time. 

“Yes,” Signet said. “I learned quite early the term does not discriminate between male or female.” 

“We have to get going,” I said. “But I would love to talk more about this with you later. But only if you promise not to try to sacrifice us.” 

She smiled. “After seeing how well you two fight, you needn’t worry about that. If you promise to help me with my assault, I will tell you the full story.” 

“We will come back tomorrow night,” I said. “But if you don’t mind, we’ll meet up after you’ve already summoned your squad.”  

She smiled at that. She tapped the ground with her foot. “I’ll meet you right here an hour after sundown tomorrow night.” 

~

“What’s the point of having me as a manager if you two suicidal idiots don’t listen to my advice?” Mordecai raged after we arrived back at the Belly-Rubbed Pug saferoom. 

We’d had to dodge a single mob on our way to the inn. It was a spider thing, but its body was an eyeball the size of a beach ball. It’d weaved a web across the street, and we’d had to take the long way to the room. 

The recap episode was about to air when we arrived. We approached the room, and I sent a quick message to Mordecai that we were going in as a courtesy. If I’d known he was going to be such an ass, I wouldn’t have warned him.

“Within minutes of us going out there, we got that quest,” I said. “I asked you if it was important or if we should ignore it. Well guess what? You didn’t answer because you were shitfaced.” 

Mordecai took a deep breath. “I apologize. I have not had the pleasure of drinking in an Over City pub in a very long time, and I took advantage of the opportunity. I did not take into account the Incubus’s weakness, which is alcohol. But if I had been of sound mind, I would have told you that quests are great for experience and loot, but only if you are comfortably ahead of the difficulty curve for the level. Since we only have eight days, and you are currently playing catch-up, I would’ve said to skip it and do what I originally told you to do.”

“And we probably would’ve taken that advice had you actually given it,” I said. 

“Furthermore,” Mordecai continued. “After I was cogent of my surroundings, I told you to stay away from the goddamned elite, but did you listen? No. You made a date with her for tomorrow night. A date, should you decide to attend, that will surely result in all of the blood seeping from your veins and into her minions.”

“I don’t like that lady,” Donut said as she munched a freshly-prepared tuna steak. Mongo devoured a plate of something that looked like raw hamburger meat on the floor next to her. He looked up and squeaked agreement. 

“She’s an elite,” Mordecai said. “Never trust an elite.”

“So what, exactly, are elites? How are they different than other NPCs? Is it just because they’re more powerful?” 

Mordecai sighed. “Okay, so elites. There are thousands of them spread throughout the urban levels of the dungeon. Unlike most mobs and dungeon NPCs, they can—and do—freely travel between the urban floors. In addition to the crawl, there is also a more scripted aspect to the dungeon. Think of it as a soap opera or a serial. All of these stories activated with the opening of the third floor. Every season they have multiple storylines pop up at once, like in September when all the new shows come out on television. There are also a few running stories that have been spanning multiple seasons, but that’s all on the ninth floor. That’s too complicated to explain right now.”

“Wait,” I said. “So, they’re like actors?” 

He shook his head. “Do you remember what we discussed earlier about how Borant owns and alters the minds of some mobs and NPCs? Elites are never naturals. They are designed, printed, and then imprinted with the memories needed for them to act out their drama. As far as they’re concerned, this is their real world.” 

“But that’s how it is with most of the other mobs,” I said. 

Mordecai shook his head again, this time more adamantly. “No. Regular mobs are autonomous. Once they’re set loose in the dungeon, what they do is up to chance. Here is the thing with elites, and this is extremely important, so pay careful attention. Your quest with this circus and this Signet woman is a storyline, a drama created for the viewers by a team of writers. It will play itself out whether or not you get involved. It will have its own show and team of people working on that show who have been working on it for a very long time and who will be very protective of it. Some of these dramas and storylines become quite popular in their own right. While elites aren’t directly controlled by the AI and the writers, they are constantly being nudged and manipulated. If the writers don’t like where a storyline is going, they will hot patch new instructions right into the elite’s minds. There are AI-controlled rules to keep the dungeon ‘fair’ for the crawlers, but those rules are much looser when it comes to elites. If it comes down to saving the life of a single crawler or blowing an entire drama that’s been building for weeks, what do you think is going to happen? I’ve seen it a dozen times. A hot shit crawler comes across an elite, and instead of trying to solve the quest, he decides to go all murder hobo and kill the NPC. Something always happens. Something bad. Most of these elites have very thick plot armor, and in those stories, you’re the extra. The red shirt. The guest star. Not every quest will involve elites, but if it does, then I will always suggest that you stay the hell away. Especially when that storyline just launched, because there’s a whole team of writers and producers out there who don’t want their precious little series to get canceled after the first day. And if they can write in the death of a popular crawler, all the better. It will guarantee their show gets more viewers.” 

“So when we talk to that Signet woman, we’re on another show?” Donut asked. 

Mordecai just looked at the cat. “Out of all of what I just said, that’s what you take away?” 

“Wait,” I said. A notion came at me. Something Signet had said. “But if this level is only eight days, what happens when the floor collapses?”

“The important elites will go down to the sixth floor, and the story will continue. So while you crawlers are dicking around on the fourth and fifth floors, these dramas will continue to play out. That is until you guys get there to mess it all up. That’s part of the fun for the viewers, seeing how crawlers crap all over the producer’s hard work. It’s like taking Jason from a Friday Thirteenth movie and tossing him into a late-season episode of Jane the Virgin just to see what happens. But, like I said, the producers and writers aren’t going to allow you to just come and do it this early. They will fight back.” 

“But only if we’re going against their planned storyline,” I said. “If we’re aiding the narrative, they might actually do the opposite. They might help us.”

Mordecai scoffed. “You can also just sit here in this pub and play with yourselves for the next seven days. It might be fun, but it’s also a one-way ticket to getting left behind. Forget this quest and go to the city.”  

The center television screen snapped on, and the opening music for the recap episode played. 

“Special Edition! See what your favorite crawlers chose as their race!” the announcer cried. 

I sat back and thought about everything that had happened today while we watched a shortened version of the bloody first part of the show. Some large group of crawlers fought against a demon-like city boss with crab pincers. The boss ripped through them in seconds, killing about forty crawlers with horrifying alacrity. The demon cackled with glee as it killed them all. 

The first crawler they showed getting her upgrade was Hekla of Brynhild’s Daughters, the woman from Iceland who’d gathered a large group of female crawlers around her. It showed her entering the saferoom alone. 

“Where’s the rest of her group?” I asked. 

“They didn’t get together until later,” Mordecai said, “So they had different game guides. They’ll come out scattered to the wind.” 

“Yikes,” I said. “That sucks.” I patted Donut on the head. I was about to say something about how it would suck if Donut and I got separated, but I thought better of saying that out loud. 

Hekla emerged from the guild, and the program showed a spinning, 3D version of her new character. Her new race was Amazon. She looked mostly the same, but she was a good foot taller than before and much wider. The pretty, blonde woman had been in good shape before. Now she looked like professional bodybuilder. It didn’t show her stats, but I could tell it was clearly strength build with a good amount of dexterity, too. 

A scrolling paragraph of text appeared, much too fast for me to read that explained her new class. She’d been allowed to pick an earth class, and she went with the obvious choice. Nordic Shieldmaiden.

“I couldn’t read what it said,” I groused. 

“You’re being forced to watch on a flat display,” Mordecai said. “If you were using a standard view screen, you’d be able to grab that paragraph and pull it up. You’ll be able to buy such a display for your private base later, but they’re likely prohibitively expensive.”

The next few groups were crawlers I didn’t recognize, but who had picked odd races or classes, including a man who turned himself in a massive slug and a woman who turned herself into a four-armed, blue-skinned replica of the Hindu goddess Shiva. The same woman picked an odd class called Kabaddi Raider. 

“A few groups aren’t done with their selection,” the announcer said. “But it appears just about 80% of the crawlers have opted to remain human.” 

“That’s way more than I thought it would be,” I said. “I’m surprised.” 

“Not me,” Donut said. “You humans were always a cocky bunch.”

“You didn’t change either,” I said. 

“Of course not, Carl. Why would I stop being a cat?” 

“It’s usually around that percentage,” Mordecai said. “Sometimes higher.” 

“Really?” I said. 

He nodded. “Whenever there’s a poll of Syndicate citizens, the vast majority of them always say they’d change into something else if they were put in that situation. But the truth is, when people are really given the opportunity to be something else, and that change is real and permanent, most opt to stay the same. They get scared. Even if there’s an obviously better choice, it’s terrifying to take that leap. And if that something else is a major change, there’s always a learning curve. Sometimes it’s better to stay in familiar skin. Believe me, it can be a real mind bender to suddenly find yourself two feet taller or shorter. Or if you lose limbs, or worse, gain them.” 

“We’re on!” Donut cried as we appeared on the screen. I went first. “Look, Mongo. Uncle Carl is on television.” She pointed up at the screen. Mongo looked and started bouncing up and down, waving his arms. 

They played a brief history of the Primal race. They showed another human from many seasons ago who’d chosen the same race. They showed him flying through the air with white, wispy angel wings, wielding a massive sword made of lightning as he charged at a humanoid demon the size of a goddamned football stadium, standing knee-deep in a lake of fire.

“What the hell is that?” I said, watching the brief scene unfold. It faded away before the actual battle could start. The paragraph that explained what a Compensated Anarchist was appeared and disappeared.  

“That, my boy, is a Divine Guardian, one of the behemoths of the 12th floor. A Country Boss. He is guarding a fire gate, an entrance to the 13th floor.”

“Holy fuck,” I said. 

“Yeah,” Mordecai said.   

“Is that the guy who made it to the thirteenth floor?” 

“No,” Mordecai said. “That guy was a famous crawler, though. He’s from before my time. He died a minute later. The next time you’re with your friend Odette, you should ask her about him.” 

“Shush,” Donut said. “Talk after they show me!”

As they revealed Donut’s selection process, I couldn’t get the image of that Godzilla-sized monster out of my head. It was a literal kaiju. Sure it was a country boss, second only to a level boss, but it was still only the 12th level. That was the floor Donut and I needed to get to if we wanted any sort of freedom. There were six levels after that. What sort of bosses would there be down there? I thought of the rage elemental. They were regular mobs from the 13th floor. The thought of scaling up our power to that level in such a short amount of time just seemed impossible.

The show ended with Lucia Mar’s transformation. Her two rottweilers, as non-sapient pets, did not get the opportunity to change, so they remained dogs. 

Lucia chose one of the oddest, most fucked-up races I’d seen so far. 

“What the hell, kid,” I said, watching the show, completely aghast at her choice. “Why?” 

A Lajabless, it was called. 

She’d grown from her young, street-kid appearance to a full-grown adult woman. As the 3D image spun, her face altered, from that of a great beauty to a skull-faced monstrosity. The announcer explained that she would spend half the day as a beautiful woman and the other half as lady Skeletor. While she was in her woman form, her magic ability was doubled. Spells cost half as much, but her strength was cut in half. While she was sporting her dia de holy shit face, it was the opposite. Spells cost more, but she was twice as strong. 

She also now walked with a limp. No more running on walls for her. Her right leg, and just her right leg, had transformed from a human limb to that of a hairy goat, complete with a cloven hoof.

As she emerged from the guildhall, clomping her new leg, even her two dogs looked freaked out by the transformation.  

“She looks like she smells really bad,” Donut said. 

“That race seems like a terrible idea,” I said. 

“Maybe,” said Mordecai. “But she’s likely the most powerful crawler in this game. There’s probably a slew of hidden benefits in that racial choice that makes it worth it.” 

And then was her class choice. Again, I couldn’t see what the details were. Just the name. 

It was a triple class. A cleric, magic-user, warrior combo called a Black Inquisitor General. 

“Wow,” I said. “And I thought that kid was a scary mo-fo before.” 

The show ended, and a moment later the announcement came. 

Welcome, again, crawlers to the third floor! 

There are still a few stragglers working on their class and race choices, and that’s okay. The vast majority of you are out and about and just starting to learn about the wonders of the Over City. We welcome you to a Dungeon Crawler World tradition. 

You all have made some wondrous and unique choices. Of the just under 700,000 crawlers who’ve made a decision, we have seen almost 40,000 different class choices. Can you believe that? That is a record, and we are very proud to see such diversity. 

A couple announcements regarding this third floor. While the bathroom penalties have been removed, we want to remind the crawlers that restrooms still populate this floor. In the villages you may find restrooms in any pub and in some shops. In the ruins, the restrooms are just as prevalent as they were on the higher floors. Please do not force us to backtrack. 

We are already seeing much interest in the sponsorship program. And while the program doesn’t officially get underway until the fourth floor, potential sponsors now have the ability to put in early bids. So remember to be as entertaining as possible!  

Finally, many of you are discovering new abilities and spells and wish to try them out. We urge you to do so. But this is just a general warning that any attempts of violence against non-combatant npcs should be avoided. While this practice is technically not against the rules, the Borant corporation wishes to keep the citizenry as safe as possible. As a result, we have adjusted the experience counter for citizens down to zero. In addition, city guards have been given a slight boost in stats. 

That’s all for now. Get out there and kill, kill, kill!   

“What's with the warning about the NPCs?” I asked. 

“Who knows,” Mordecai said. “Now go rent a room and get some sleep. I want you two up early. Tomorrow is going to be a big day for you.” 

“What’re we doing?” Donut asked. 

“Oh, it’s going to be amazing,” Mordecai said. “It’s going to be a day for the history books. It’ll be the first day you two do exactly what I tell you to do.”