Chapters 181, 182, 183, 184, and 185 (Patreon)

(This is not the end. Cliffhanger warning.)


Chapter 181

Carl: Hey guys. Plan won’t work. New plan.

Elle: Goddamnit, Carl.

Imani: What part won’t work?

Carl: Assuming Imogen just told me the truth, everything inside the ballroom. We can’t make the first move. We have a new play.

Katia: What is it?

Carl: We party. We don’t start anything. Everything outside the party goes on as planned, but we can’t do anything violent while we’re in there.

Donut: WHAT ABOUT MY ACT? THE DINOSAURS?

Carl: We’ll play it by ear. We’ll set everything up like planned, but we won’t pull the trigger unless we’re forced to. We still need to defend ourselves. One way or another, shit’s gonna go down. We need to be ready.

“So, should I stick this awful jacket into my inventory?” Britney asked.

“Absolutely not,” I said. “Keep it on. Just don’t set it off prematurely like you did that shield spell.”

~

Donut directed the unloading of supplies as I gazed up at the massive, white square of the elf castle. I couldn’t decide if it was ugly or stunning. Elle was calling it the Sugarcube, and the name had stuck. We stood around the corner from the main entrance at a set of double doors, which was the equivalent of the building’s loading dock and freight entrance. The doors yawned open, and elves appeared, some pulling flatbed carts to load the supplies.

“This place is not very defensible,” I muttered.

“There used to be a moat,” an elf guard said. “The queen made us drain it because it smelled funny. It doesn’t matter. The four towers are stronger than they look. Nobody attacks anyway. Especially not with the queen being as powerful as she is.” He shrugged.

These guys working at the castle were much friendlier than the ones we’d met previously. It seemed there were different groups. This guy, dressed in gold, was a Level 40 Castle Guard. They were different than the white-clad soldiers who’d been escorting Ferdinand. Or the black and gold-clad, ninja-like elves who guarded Queen Imogen.

The entire castle, I realized, was made of some type of wood. Maybe bleached oak. It looked like white stone from a distance, or even marble. But I ran my fingers over it, and it was clearly wood. The wall was smooth to the touch, and it was carved with little acorn shapes, each one about the size of my fingernail, like the whole structure was carved from a single piece of wood, turned on the lathe of a god. The acorn pattern ran up the wall into the setting sun. The white wood was hot to the touch, and it gave the sense of something very old and magical. It reminded me, oddly, of the time I visited the USS Constitution and took the tour of the ancient, iron-armored, wood-hulled frigate. It was almost like the wood itself breathed.

The elf castle sat against a rocky bluff in the extreme southeast corner of the map. A single, pencil-thin tower stood at each corner. Thanks to Edgar’s incredibly specific map, I knew the open-top towers housed a set of magic-wielding guards and were just wide enough for two people to ascend via a curling staircase. The only entrance and exit to the towers was on the third floor of the castle. There were no other obvious defenses or fortifications.

The cube-shaped castle was actually more of a rectangle. A few floors remained hidden underground. There were caves there, in the rock surrounding the castle, filled with trolls who were constantly fighting the elves. There was likely a whole storyline and quest involved with that stuff. There was a secret entrance there, and hopefully, sometime in the last few hours Signet had gotten herself into the castle and was hiding in the dungeon, waiting.

Zev had warned me up and down and sideways not to attempt to smuggle the elite into the party. Any attempts to do so, and the production company would be contractually forced to send directions to Signet to do something premature. Something that would definitely get herself killed and would likely take me down with her. She was, under no circumstances, allowed in there.

If she were to enter the party, courts would have to get involved regarding who owned the rights to what actually happened next. It was a hard rule regarding secondary production companies and the showrunners of Dungeon Crawler World.

Don’t fuck with the main event.

I didn’t give a rat’s ass about any of that. I pretended to hem and haw and agree. I talked Signet into coming alone and to hiding in the basement. I promised her that an opportunity would present itself if she was patient. And if not? Well, the queen wasn’t going anywhere.

I felt kind of bad about it, using her like this.

“You. You have been deemed unwelcome,” an elf guard said to Pearson the changeling, who was still in the form of a robed woman. This was one of the white-clad elves, one of the level-70 guards. A soldier. “Now run along. You have an hour to extricate yourself from our territory before you are deemed a trespasser.”

“She’s part of my act,” Donut protested.

“The brambles are already at the border,” the woman said, still acting the part. “Your soldiers are fighting them. Where would I go?”

“Not my problem. Queen’s orders. Now go before I have my men use you as target practice.”

I grabbed her arm, leaned in and whispered, “Get to the cave. Stick to the plan.”

The changeling ran off just as more caravans appeared coming up the road.

“They’re not going in cages,” Donut said, raising her voice. “These are expertly-trained, professional show animals! They’re perfectly safe. This is an outrage! Carl, get the queen back here this instant!”

A pair of elves grunted as they pulled the massive cage out the double doors. The silver-metal cage looked as if it had been built especially for Big Tina.

“Your professional show animal just tried to eat my sambhur,” one of the elves said.

“You mean the stag things? Tina was just playing. Right, Tina?”

Tina roared and snapped, causing a group of elves to shout and back away. Several pulled out their bows.

“All animals are going in cages,” another, older-looking elf said, non-plussed. He emerged from inside, pulling thick gloves off his hands and waved the other elves down. This guy was different than the others. He wore overalls and was named Kibben. He was a level-50 High Elf Stablemancer. This was the first high elf I’d seen with short hair, making him look like a bush elf. “Don’t worry, they’ll be released for your act. We don’t want them hurting each other between performances. You see that belly acher over there? He’ll swallow one of your mongoliensis whole given half the chance. And your allosaurus is still a juvenile, which means you can’t control her too well.”

Donut peered angrily over at Tserendolgor, who was in the process of wiping dirt off of Garret, her pet belly acher.

“If that walking meatball is so dangerous, he should be disqualified immediately. What if he attacks my Mongo?”

The elf smiled down at Donut. “I’ll make sure the pets are all separated and safe. It’s my job.”

“Are those hunters bringing any pets to the party? I heard there’s two attendant ballrooms. Maybe we can move my dinosaurs to the other holding area.” She glared at Tserendolgor. “Where they’ll be safe. Does it matter which holding area they’re in?’

“Both of the attendant ballrooms affect the stage area in the same way, so that doesn’t matter, but it’s not really necessary.”

“This is most unprofessional. In all my years, I have never heard of such abysmal treatment of honored guests. It’s necessary if I say it’s necessary. Who is your manager?”

I looked at the guy. “I’ve found the best way to get her to shut up is to just let her do what she wants if it doesn’t matter one way or another.” I leaned in conspiratorially. “She is a cat, after all. I understand you guys have one of those running around in here, too.”

“Hey!” Donut said. “What is that supposed to mean, Carl?”

The elf shrugged. “We can put the dinos in the other room. You’re right. We don’t have anything scheduled in there. Seems like the other group isn’t too interested in either of the showcases. Probably for the best anyway. Most of the sambhurs move through this side, and that allosaurus makes them nervous. The cretins and the... reanimated head... will have to stay in here.”

Donut sniffed. “I suppose that will be acceptable. But I must insist on watching the transfer.”

“Donut,” I said as Elle and Imani walked up. Behind us, a caravan pulled to a stop, and a crawler I didn’t recognize got out, followed by what looked like a hawk familiar. “The animals will be fine. This guy obviously knows what he’s doing. Let’s get the ball rolling.”

Chapter 182

<Note added by Crawler Carl, 25th edition>

From page seven of our planning notes:

Don’t let the square shape fool you. This place is a nightmare of halls and rooms and passages. The main part of the castle not including the basement levels is seven stories tall. There are actually way more floors than that, like way more, but those levels are mostly around the edges. Think of it like a Borg cube-themed hotel or casino where the public spaces all have ceilings about thirty feet tall, but they also manage to shove a bunch of rooms in there along the periphery.

The two attendant ballrooms are on opposite sides of the first floor. Ballroom A where we’ll be is on the fourth floor and ballroom B for the hunters is on the second floor, and it’s directly above their attendant room. The Queen’s ballroom and her living quarters are all on the seventh floor. That whole area is off-limits to everybody except the queen and her guards.

If one walks into the front entrance, there’s a giant stairwell that runs all the way up to the fifth floor, but that’s it. Visitors don’t go higher. It looks like it’ll be almost impossible to get to the throne room or to the queen, so we’ll have to get her to come to us. The worst possible thing that can happen is if she decides to fight us while she’s in her ballroom and we’re in ours. Even with our magic and inventory access turned on, she’ll still be safe, and we won’t be.

Again. We do not fight the queen while we’re in our ballroom no matter what. It is suicide.

There are a few additional quirks to the goodwill ballroom system according to both Samantha and the entertainer instruction notice we received from the elves themselves.

Some of the protections are turned off when you’re physically on stage. When Donut stands upon the stage in ballroom A, she will be able to physically interact with all the items that have been moved to the stage area of the attendant ballrooms a few stories below. If there’s a wand on the attendant stage, she’ll be able to pick it up and cast it. The wand itself will still be three floors below. It’s just like the magic pens the Popovs and I used to sign autographs at Crawl Con. The only thing Donut can’t do is drink something if it’s not with her. She’ll be able to read the wand recharge scroll and her sheet music, but she won’t be able to down the charm potion. We’ll have to smuggle it in. Mordecai has a bunch of ideas for smuggling potions into secure areas. It’s something he’s really familiar with, so it shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll probably end up using Katia as an equipment locker.

Speaking of those pens, Samantha says some of the items in the ballroom itself, like the tables and chairs, will be physically present on all iterations of the hall. So if I pick up a table and move it, it will move in all of the locations. This includes the doors and anything affixed to the walls, including that warning light we were worried about. Other things, however, like the food at the buffet will only exist in either ballroom A or B. It can get confusing, so everything is usually color coded. Food on the blue plates you can pick up and eat, but food on the red plates is actually in the other ballroom, etc.

~ Carl

If Donut can still cast magic while on stage, why do we need the security room taken? ~ Imani.

They say she can cast spells, but it’s only a few approved ones. Illusionary evocations, which means her Light spell and that’s it. Wands and scrolls will work, but she won’t be allowed to bring them up with her to the main ballroom.  Even something like Hole won’t work unless the magic access is restored in the room. ~ Carl

This is confusing as shit. I’m getting Iron Tangle flashbacks. I hated the Iron Tangle.

~Louis

It’s not that bad. All you need to know is we’ll be in ballroom A, the hunters will be in ballroom B, and the queen will be in her own ballroom by herself. There’ll be a color code system letting you know what items you can touch. Anything that’s in either of the attendant ballrooms is invisible to us unless it’s on the main stage or the small, corner stage for the music. All the stage stuff isn’t important except to the performers. I’m making copies of the map, and I will get one to you. Study it.

~Carl

~

Entering Ballroom A.

You’ve been muted! You may not cast spells in this room.

You’ve been peace-bonded! You may not access your inventory in this room.

On the wall, high on the ceiling was a light. It was nothing more than a glow globe. It flashed twice, letting the guards know the first people had entered the ballroom, and the system was now activated and armed. It would flash brightly every time the system was either activated or turned off, as a safeguard.

Warning! This room is under a protection seal. Any violent acts will break the seal, resulting in your banishment to the Nothing.

Warning! As an invited guest, you may not leave this room until the party has concluded or once the protection seal has been broken. I hope you went potty before you got here.

Once the host arrives, the party chambers will be fully sealed from outside influence.

“Damnit,” I muttered at the notification.

Imani: Carl, does that mean once Imogen enters the room, she can’t leave? Doesn’t that ruin the effectiveness of the distraction?

Carl: It does. We need to use escape plan C.

Donut: IS THAT THE ONE WHERE WE ALL PLUMMET TO OUR DEATHS?

Carl: That’s escape plan D. Escape plan C is using your Hole spell to fall down to the third level and fight our way out. We’ll have to spread the word to have everybody approach you when it goes down.

Imani: I’ll get the ball rolling.

Despite the promises of extensive security checks, we didn’t undergo anything too invasive. The gnoll security checks to get into a production trailer had been much more intrusive.

After going up a long, twisting staircase that went straight from the first floor to the fourth, an elf made us store all our weapons into inventory and then patted us down. That included my wrist bracer that formed my Grull gauntlet. The biggest issue was Tserendolgor—Ren’s—flamethrower, which she wore like a backpack. It reminded me those backpacks from the Ghostbusters movies, only hers was also part of her shirt. So removing the weapon exposed her hairy chest, revealing a pair of furry, dog breasts. Donut was about to make a snide comment before I shut her up. Imani gave the dog soldier a robe to cover up.

The rest of us were allowed to keep our clothes. As I suspected, they didn’t blink at Britney’s jacket or any of our other magical gear. Another footman elf gave us a lecture on not fighting and then gave a graphic description of how awful falling into the Nothing would be. A third used a Donut-sized snail to sniff us for explosives, focusing on me. We didn’t have any on us, and we passed cleanly through.

From there we entered the hallway leading into the ballroom and were ushered into the “boudoir” where we could change further. The large chamber was like a glorified locker room with individual cubicles and bathrooms. Nobody actually changed clothes except Donut, who changed out of her Mana Genita tiara into her new, charisma-doubling tiara she’d gotten from the Apothecary. I covered the bathroom counter with dinosaur repellant potions and half-splat potions with a note for everyone who found it to store the half-splat in their inventory in a ready position, and if they hadn’t already, drink the dinosaur one now. I warned that we would possibly have to flee quickly, and there would be loose, prey-driven dinosaurs everywhere. We wanted them attacking the hunters. Not us.

We left and were patted and sniffed down once again and then led into the main ballroom.

There were fifteen of us in this first group. It was all of us from the first caravan and the second, which included several crawlers I didn’t know. Most were human, but there was a mushroom guy I’d only seen in passing who was afraid of Elle for some unknown reason and a badger-headed woman who was also a Swashbuckler, the same class as Bautista and Tran, both of whom would be joining us once everyone else got teleported to the room.

We entered the large, opulent ballroom, our footsteps echoing on the tiled floor.

An elf guard, wearing a ridiculously ornate white and silk uniform with coattails lined with gold jumped to attention as we entered. He held onto a glittering spear that was easily ten feet tall. He took a breath and then shouted, “From here on forward, past this point you are under the holy protection of Queen Imogen! The Oak Mother’s wrath will set upon anyone who breaks the peace!”

The room was huge, bigger than I’d expected from the map. From my shoulder, Donut gasped. We were the first crawlers here. To our right stood a preposterously large stage with a red, wavy, floor-to-ceiling curtain made of a thick, expensive-looking fabric. Multiple tables were set up around a dance floor. A buffet was in the process of being erected in one corner of the room while elves swarmed over it like ants on a hill. Sure enough, the trays of food on one of the buffet lines was marked gold and the other was marked black.

Soft music filled the chamber, coming from a trio of elves playing stringed instruments. It sounded similar to chamber music, but with an odd amount of reverb, giving it a strange, distant sound. I’d seen the performers setting up downstairs, and I knew they were really in the servant ballroom, which is where our animals and attendants would also be during the ball.

Four pillars led upward to a large, domed ceiling, covered with a massive, moving mosaic. The artwork featured a glittering, black and gold cave dotted with sparkling crystals, like the interior of a golden geode. Curled up in the midst of this was a black centipede, whose form continued to twist, like one of those spirals one used to hypnotize someone.

This is a depiction of Scolopendra. She’s dreaming. It’s said when she finally awakens, she will destroy everything and free us all.

From the center of the mosaic sprouted a living tree made of white wood and white leaves. The tree hung downward from the tall ceiling, giving the illusion we were the ones upside down. The moving mosaic of Scolopendra never ceased twisting around the tree, like it was attempting to strangle it.

I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I wondered if the tree and mosaic were really here, or if they were just an illusion.

“Carl, look!” Donut said, turning my attention.

I followed her pointing paw. Directly opposite of the stage on the far side of the room was a glass case that read Prize Counter. A blanket was draped over the case, and a familiar figure stood behind the glass.

“Uh-oh,” I said, looking at the winged, werewolf-like creature standing there.

“Is that the guy Mordecai hates?” Donut asked.

“That’s him,” I said.

“Who is it?” Elle asked, hovering next to me.

“His name is Chaco,” I said. “Remember when I told you about the prize carousel thing?”

“It’s when Carl picked that stupid book of goblin recipes,” Donut said.

“Ah, so that’s the guy ol’ Mordecai attacked?” Elle asked. “Didn’t he throw a chair at his head? Good thing he’s not here. Did you ever get the story out of him?”

“Not all of it,” I said. I turned to walk toward him when there was a crack of teleportation, and three new figures appeared in the room: A tall, thin soother, one of those jello-mold, blob aliens whose mouth faced upward, and a familiar, tentacle-faced Saccathian. None of them had information or tags above them.

Donut gasped. “Oh my god,” she cried. “Princess D’Nadia! Carl, look! It’s Princess D’Nadia!” She hopped up and down and then jumped off my shoulder and ran over to her, her tail waving back and forth with excitement.

The soother and blob thing moved off to inspect the stage as we approached D’Nadia. The saccathian was taller than me. She wore a glittering, purple dress covered in sparkles. The dress was curved with unnatural lumps, alluding to a body covered with additional tentacles.

“Princess,” Donut said. “I didn’t know you were going to be here!”

“Hello, Princess Donut,” D’Nadia said. “I’m judging the talent show and pet contest. And it’s no longer Princess. My father, sadly, decided to retire. My title is now Empress D’Nadia.”

“Really?” Donut asked, trying not to hide her excitement. “My sponsor is an empress?”

The saccathian waved her finger at Donut with mock sternness. “Now Donut, don’t think because I’m your sponsor I’ll show favoritism. I take my judging duties very seriously.”

“Of course! Of course!” Donut said excitedly.

Behind us, more crawlers appeared, coming through the door. Prepotente was one of them. Our eyes met from across the room.

An elf appeared on stage, pushing his way out of the curtain. “Attention, please! All guests who are participating in either the talent show or the pet contest, please join me backstage for some quick instructions!”

Most of the crawlers in the room turned and started shuffling toward the elf. Prepotente was one of them.

“I’ll be right back!” Donut said and bounded off. “Hi Prepotente!” We watched her go.

“I’m very cross with you, Carl,” D’Nadia said, coming to stand next to me. I could smell her. She smelled like sweet calamari. “Your attorney and that new corporation of yours almost ruined my buy-in bid.”

Katia: We’re here. We all teleported into hallway C3 on the map. We’re in line for security. It’s going to be a few minutes. They’re only letting us into the boudoirs five at a time.

Carl: Make sure people take the potions. And tell them about escape plan C.

Katia: Eva is here. So is Lucia Mar. Carl, I’m worried about Florin.

I reached over and touched D’Nadia’s dress. She felt solid, but with a little push, my fingers disappeared within. She wasn’t really here. This was different than in the production trailers. We could physically touch each other, but only gently. I could smell her, too.

“I heard about the buy-in bid,” I said. “I’m sorry about that. If I had known it was you, I would’ve had Donut send you a message. Are you on planet?”

“In orbit, but we’re making landfall after this evening. You’re lucky it worked out. Otherwise, I would not be so pleasant to be around.”

“I find that hard to believe,” I said. I was laying it on thick, trying my best not to let my new-found, utter contempt for her show. “Tell me, do empresses usually judge pet shows?”

D’Nadia made an amused, trumpeting noise with her tentacles. “I’m working. The judging of this contest allows me to be a part of the production, which is one of the requirements. It’s a technicality. A loophole. Something you’re quite familiar with, aren’t you?”

Katia: Eva went into the dressing room after me. She stole all the potions and is now making snide comments about it.

Carl: You have more in your inventory. Find out who didn’t get any and pass them out once the inventory gets turned on.

“I gotta tell you,” I said, returning my attention to D’Nadia. “I was surprised when Quasar told me who...” I trailed off as the door near the buffet opened, and Vrah scurried into the room. The large mantis looked around, saw me, and made a beeline in our direction.

Her crotch was no longer on fire.

Behind her, other hunters started to enter the room, much more hesitant. The bright light on the wall flashed, telling the guards the system was now fully armed and engaged. Both rooms were now in use.

Carl: Bomo, Sledge. It’s time. Sledge, tell the changelings to get their asses moving. Britney, do your thing.

“Oh, I’m looking forward to this,” Empress D’Nadia said, taking a step back.

Chapter 183

The giant mantis barreled toward me like she was going to bowl me over. She stopped just an inch away. She gnashed her mandibles right in front of my face. She smelled vaguely of burned plastic.

“Hey, Vrah,” I said cheerfully. “How was your visit with your mother?”

D’Nadia trumpeted with laughter.

“Stay out of this, Princess,” Vrah said, not turning her head.

“Empress,” D’Nadia corrected.

There was a commotion behind me, but I didn’t dare turn my back. I pretended to remain engaged with Vrah as I watched Britney sidle up to the guard with the giant spear. She said something to him and giggled. He didn’t seem amused.

“I have a present for you, Carl,” Vrah said. “It’s coming soon.”

“Oh, sweet,” I said. I patted her on the upper-shoulder part of her carapace. The same spot the head of Langley had bitten down onto her neck. She felt barely tangible. “Thanks, I really appreciate that. It’s not even my birthday. Actually, maybe it is? I’ve lost track. Is it April already? It hasn’t been that long, has it?”

Britney pretended to drop something, and the guard looked down. The moment he did, she reached up and pulled at a tag sewn into her jacket.

Please, please, I thought. Don’t attack.

Bautista said the Slate Butterflies weren’t violent, which was good considering the circumstances. Britney’s entire jacket was made of stuffed versions of the fuzzy creatures. We only needed one for now. She’d wanted to sew them onto her boots, but I liked the idea of having a ton of them at the ready just in case. Mordecai said the special ability on these guys wasn’t considered magic, which is why we went with them and not my slingshot idea. I prayed it would work.

Vrah bristled. “You’re not the only one who can bend the rules to your will. You and your soft-shelled friends will soon learn what it means to make an enemy of the Dark Hive.”

“Don’t you guys run an amusement park? What do you do to your enemies? Ban them from the bumper boats?”

The hand-sized butterfly flittered straight up into the air, making a line for the first light source it saw. The warning light. It reached the light and settled onto it, wrapping it with its wings. The light’s glow slowly paled, and the powered light faded away. There was some fairytale involving these things, where they ended up eating the sun on their world. A moment later, the common-rarity, summoned creature returned to a stuffed animal. I held my breath as it fell, hit the tip of the elf’s spear, and landed in Britney’s outstretched hand. The guard looked up as Britney pulled the stuffed animal behind her back. He returned to his position.

It was done.

“I am looking forward to our rematch,” Vrah was saying. “I will remove that disgusting smirk from your worthless face.”

“Wow,” I said, turning to D’Nadia, who continued to watch the exchange with an amused expression. “She is really angry, isn’t she?”

“You did give her gonorrhea, Carl.”

D’Nadia now had what looked like a champagne flute in her hand, but I hadn’t seen who’d given it to her. She dipped one of her tentacles in the glass and sucked up half of the drink. I hadn’t realized the weird, little appendages worked like elephant trunks.

An angry, chittering noise rose from Vrah. “I swear to you this, Carl. Before this night is done, I will have your decapitated head on my back. Yours and all your friends.” She turned and skittered away angrily.

“No violence, remember?” I called after her.

Carl: Good job, Britney!

Britney: I am not doing that again. My heart is in my throat.

Shouting rose from behind me. I heard the voices of Katia, Florin, and Bautista. I sighed.

I turned, expecting to see Katia holding Florin back from attacking Lucia Mar. The Lajabless was here, in her beautiful woman form, but she stood against the wall, chewing on her fingernail, eyes darting back and forth like she didn’t know where she was. In that moment, I saw her for what she was, a little kid in an adult’s body.

But I only looked upon her for a moment. A chair fell over, clattering loudly to the ground. To my surprise, it was Florin and Bautista holding Katia back, who was lunging at Eva, who leaned casually against another table. The half-nagini, half-orc remained a Nimblefoot Enforcer, and she’d risen to level 55, equal with Katia and four below my level 59.

I hadn’t seen the four-armed, snake-headed crawler since that day upon the train when Katia had accidentally killed Hekla. Eva had lost a hand in that fight—her dominant, top right hand. The hand was still gone, nothing but a square-edged stump. I knew that she had recently become armed with a poisoned, rapier-like blade that she attached to the appendage. She could pop it in and out like a switchblade. They’d made her take it off. Upon her chest she wore a jeweled, glittering breastplate that looked like something out of a museum. It shone with a high polish. Purple gemstones of various sizes dotted the elaborate armor.

The last time I’d seen Eva, she had a dozen or so player killer skulls.

She now had over 50.

She also sported four hunter-killer marks.

“Why are you like this,” Katia was shouting. “Why? These are your people, too. You’re a traitorous bitch. The moment the protection is turned off, I’m going to rip your face off.”

“Temper, temper,” Eva was saying, pretending to sound bored. “This is why Fannar couldn’t stand you anymore. With your ugly brown hair, your ugly piggy nose, and your constant whining. What kind of mother could you have possibly been?”

“Oh, just shut the hell up, Eva,” I said, coming to stand between her and Katia. Bautista had his arms wrapped around her waist. Florin also held her back.

I put my hand on Katia’s shoulder. It looked like flesh, but her arm was made of metal. She had a locker full of potions stored in there.

“Calm,” I said, looking into her eyes. “We anticipated this. It’s okay.”

Donut was suddenly there, on Katia’s other shoulder. She and the others who’d been backstage were returning. Crawlers continued to stream in from the hallway. I saw Louis and Firas enter the room, their eyes huge, followed by the Popovs, Gwen, and Tran. Britney shuffled toward them, arms out, and she hugged tightly onto Firas.

Donut butted her head against Katia, who reached up and gave her pat.

“Oh hello, Eva,” Donut said, her voice turning flat. “I thought I smelled vermin. You know, I was just thinking about you today. It reminded me that I need my litter box changed. Carl.”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

The snake woman sneered. “I’m getting a drink.”

She pushed herself off the table and moved toward the back of the room. The crawlers all mingled near the stage, and the hunters were all crowded around the buffet tables. We were separated like boys and girls at a middle school dance. As Eva approached, the hunters scattered away from her.

“You okay?” I asked Katia.

“I’m fine,” she said.

I exchanged a look with Bautista, and he gave me a nod. He was on it.

“How’s it looking back there?” I asked Donut.

She scoffed. “I’ve been to cat shows held at a two-star Holiday Inn where the cages shared the room with the free continental breakfast that were better situated than this. The theater is gorgeous, yes, but only at first glance. It was built by someone who obviously knows nothing about such things. There is no thrust. The stage is straight, like we’re in some rural high school gymnasium. There are no wings at all. None, Carl. I can’t even with that. AV is nothing but an elf with a magic microphone and no mixing board, and he simply did not understand how to work the boombox.”

“What?” I asked. “Boombox? What are you talking about?”

She ignored me. “Furthermore, the grid extends maybe five feet above the arch, and that’s only because of the curtain. There’s only a single catwalk, and they straight-up ignored my request for access. I am quite certain the lighting team isn’t going to understand my directions. I’m glad we can use light magic on stage, because lighting is everything with these things, and they don’t even care. They’re just doing it willy-nilly. You know how I feel about willy-nilly, Carl.”

“Is the catwalk going to be a problem?”

“I thought we weren’t doing that? You’re giving me whiplash, Carl.”

“We still need to be prepared. This is a very fluid situation.”

“Speaking of fluid situations, they didn’t say there weren’t bathrooms in here. It’s outrageous!”

“The catwalks,” I said. “Are they a problem?”

“No,” she said. “And it’s catwalk. There’s just one. It’s forward enough that it won’t get in the way. Edgar’s map was quite specific and accurate.” She sighed dramatically. “I knew this was going to be amateur hour, but once you see it up close, you don’t fully appreciate the level of ineptitude it required to make something look this nice yet be so functionally inefficient. You know what it’s like? It’s like a stage version of a cocker spaniel.”

Quick movement caught my eye, distracting me. “I’m sure your song will go fine.”

“This is all for Mongo’s presentation,” Donut said. “We haven’t even gotten to my talent performance yet. I presented the stage manager with the instruction booklet and rider, and can you believe he... Carl, where are you going?”

Shit. Florin was marching across the room toward Lucia. I looked for Imani and Elle, who were the designated peacekeepers, but they were both involved with other quarrels.

“Florin,” I called, running to catch up with the crocodilian. The room was getting pretty full, and he shouldered his way through crawlers as he approached the scared-looking Lucia.

“Florin, stop,” I said, putting my hand on his chest.

“Don’t touch me, Carl,” he said.

“Wait. Please,” I said. “We can’t fight in here.”

“I know that,” he snapped. “I’m not a fool. I just want to talk to her.”

“She is unpredictable. We don’t want her to break the seal, and if you say something to her, she’s probably going to attack you. Look, man. I need you.”

I wasn’t getting through to him, so I tried a different tactic.

Carl: Florin, I need you to stay focused. I can’t be babysitting your ass. We all have our roles tonight, and you said you were good.

Florin: I am good. Now get off my back.

Carl: Okay. I’m gonna trust you. Did Katia talk to you about the queen?

“I heard,” he said out loud. He continued to stare Lucia down, who looked back at him with wide eyes.

The tableau held for several moments. Florin blinked and then something softened in his small, pinprick eyes. “Something’s off with her anyway,” he said. “She ain’t acting right. I know with that bitch that don’t mean much. But something ain’t right.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, looking over my shoulder at the kid. “Let’s leave her be. Not trigger her. We gotta keep the hunters away from her, too. If I was them, she’d be the target. She’s easily the most unpredictable.”

Lucia remained frozen against the wall, watching us. She suddenly bolted, running along the wall to a spot in the corner against the stage. She huddled there, shaking. She plopped herself down on the ground and sat cross-legged, hugging herself tightly.

Just stay there, kid, I thought.

I looked about for Quan Ch, but I didn’t see him at all. That was a goddamned relief. Assuming he was still alive, he’d likely gone down the stairs.

“Carl,” a familiar voice said from behind me, startling me. Prepotente. I turned to face the goat. He looked even worse than the last time I’d seen him.

“Prepotente, when did you last sleep?”

“I know this will come as a shock to you, but I must insist that I join your party.”

I just looked at him for a several seconds. At this point, nothing was going to surprise me anymore.

“No,” I said after a moment. “Talk to Katia. She might be willing, but you’re level 70, and you’ll end up the party leader of whatever party you join, and most established parties won’t like that. Better yet, find some of those displaced Eva crawlers, if any are still alive. You can start your own party, and you can join the guild.”

“It would only be for the remainder of this floor. It’s so we travel together to the start of the next. I’ve been collecting the clues, and after speaking with Katia, she informed me about Donut’s magical hammer and stick.”

“Attention. Attention everyone,” a voice boomed. It came from the stage. Prepotente screamed in response. Right in my ear.

“We’re bookmarking this,” I said. “We need to get through the party first. Maybe talk to Donut. Did you take the dinosaur repellant?” I looked about for the cat, and she was on the shoulder of Bautista talking to a crowd of crawlers, making karate kick motions and pointing at Lucia Mar in the corner.

Goddamnit, Donut, I thought.

“Welcome to the Butcher’s Masquerade!” the voice called. He paused, as if waiting for applause.

This was Theobold, the same elf footman who’d given me the instructions during the caravan. He’d changed into one of those white dress tuxedos with the gold lining. It looked disturbingly like the dinner dress white jackets naval officers wore to one of their countless parties.

“We still have some guests filtering in. That’s okay. For the next several hours, we will be enjoying an evening together of fun and talent. There is plenty of food and refreshment, all perfectly curated to your personal dietary needs. Those of you in Ballroom A may use any gold-colored tray, and the black trays are for our honored guests in Ballroom B. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to ask one of the servants who will do their best to accommodate you. After the performances, we will have dancing. Queen Imogen herself plans on visiting soon. Those of you who have collected hunter hands or crawler scalps may now visit the prize booth to turn them in. Please remember, this party is a celebration of Apito’s love for all her children. Violence is blasphemy. We are here this evening to have a good time. Apito wishes for us to mingle with our enemies. Do not waste this opportunity. Those of you participating in the pet program, please proceed to the backstage area.”

Donut did a little hop and scrambled toward the stage. Prepotente also went back. I sighed.

None of the hunters went backstage. Their group, much larger than ours, huddled sullenly near the buffet tables.

Empress D’Nadia and the other two judges moved toward a raised table just in front of the stage. It’d still be a few minutes before this started. I did a quick look around the room to make certain there weren’t any fires I needed to put out. Imani and Elle were talking to a group of crawlers who looked as if they might come to blows with another group.

We didn’t have anything special planned for the pet show itself. We just needed to get through the next hour or so without anyone getting themselves banished to the Nothing.

That didn’t mean we were idle.

During this time, the Sledge was meeting up with half the changelings and making their way to the underground, secret entrance to the castle, currently guarded by Signet’s crew. The were-castors and others would escort them all inside. The changelings, once within, were going to pretend to be elves and make their way to each of the four sentinel towers, ascend, and remove the guards within, creating a docking location for the Twister, which would bring in the remaining changelings once everything was fully engaged.

Gideon and his team was setting up in the woods outside to observe and to assault the front of the castle if needed.

Bomo was starting his looting mission.

Before everything changed, the next part of the plan had been to use Signet right when we needed the queen out of the ballroom. Using Sledge as a relay, we would’ve sent a changeling upstairs and ratted her out.

The half-naiad’s sudden appearance in the castle would’ve triggered the guards, and Imogen would be forced to react. She’d leave the party to deal with her. It was actually a similar plan to what Signet’s crew had been planning anyway, but I’d talked her into waiting so we could control the timing.

Now that we knew Queen Imogen couldn’t leave the party once she arrived, we needed to either trigger Signet’s appearance early or to save her for once the seal was broken. What we decided to do would depend wholly on when the Sledge arrived with the changelings and whether or not they could take the towers.

I sighed. It’d been a good plan, but we’d gotten screwed by the lack of proper intelligence.

Zev: Godsdamnit, Carl. I don’t know what you did, but they’re going to be pissed.

Carl: What? You’re not supposed to be mad at me for another two or three hours.

Zev: This isn’t funny. She’s not supposed to be in here. It’s going to be a logistical nightmare.

Carl: Seriously. I don’t....

I dropped the chat window the moment I saw her enter the room.

Well, shit.

Signet walked into the room, tattoos swimming across her bare chest. The guard at the door just stared, mouth agape. He turned and fled the room, shouting.

She saw me, smiled, and casually strolled up. She reached out and grabbed my hands in hers. She felt solid. Warm. She was in the same ballroom as us.

“Want to hear something funny?” she asked. “I was just sitting there, minding my own thoughts in a damp, dark dungeon, when Apito herself appeared before me and told me I was invited to a party. And suddenly, I was here.”

Carl: Hey, Zev. This wasn’t me. This one is on the AI.

Chapter 184

Imani: Carl. Why is she here? She can’t help us if she’s in the room with us.

Carl: I was worried this was going to happen the second the queen told me that Apito forms the guestlist herself. “Apito” is testing Imogen. Of course she’s going to bring in one of her biggest enemies. That’s the whole point of the spell.

Imani: She was our outside distraction.

Carl: This is better. With her in the room with us, she’ll be Imogen’s first target. It’ll give us a few extra seconds to escape if someone breaks the seal.

Imani: Everything is going off the rails. People are depending on us, Carl.

Carl: I know. We’re doing our best.

“Hello,” I said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until later.”

“My sister isn’t here yet?” Signet asked, looking about the room. “You know, when I learned of this event, I didn’t realize this party was a real Butcher’s Masquerade. People have them, yes. But real ones are rare. I wouldn’t have believed it unless Apito herself came to me. I’m glad I’m here. I prefer it this way. Like I told you before, I’m quite tired of running. I just wish I’d known I was coming directly. I would’ve worn something a little more appropriate.”

Multiple guards appeared at the entrance, including a handful of the black-clad, queen’s guards. They watched Signet from across the room. They all slinked back to the hallway.

“It is quite delicious,” Signet said. “I’m here, and they can’t touch me without breaking the seal. My lovely sister is at my mercy.”

“Do you know what boon she’ll receive from Apito at the end of the party?” I asked.

“Imogen doesn’t even know. The story is it’s some sort of immortality, but it’s never happened.” Signet laughed. “Not once. Clerics cast the spell, have their party, and before the night is done, the Nothing is fed, the cleric is either dead or shamed, and Apito awards no boons. Her thirst for power is so great, she’s willing to risk it all for it.”

Her gaze moved across the room, landing on the hunters, then moving to Chaco, then to the three judges at the table. “Who are they?” Signet asked. “Their auras are... strange.”

As we looked at the three judges, an ethereal hand appeared, floating in front of Empress D’Nadia, handing her a drink. She took the offered glass, and the hand disappeared.

“They’re the people I was telling you about before,” I said, jumping on the opportunity. “Look at them. They’re not even really here. They’re from the outside world that controls all of this, even you, and they’re watching this for entertainment.”

“Interesting,” Signet said, her voice trailing off. On her chest, all the tattoos were also looking in the direction of the three judges. “I think I’d like to have a conversation with these off-worlders while I wait for my sister.” She moved off toward them.

Zev: Godsdamnit, Carl.

I laughed out loud.

Chapter 185

I turned my attention to the back of the room.

Chaco the Bard remained behind his prize counter. The muscular, wolf-headed man saw me coming, and he straightened his back, as if getting ready for a fight. His bat-like wings flapped once and settled nervously.

He didn’t wear the ridiculous, 1970’s, gameshow host outfit anymore, but form-fitting, metallic armor that made him seem even more intimidating. He’d been a part of Mordecai’s party when something happened near the end of their crawl. Something to make Mordecai want to murder him. This guy had been born as a skyfowl, which was a little hard to get my head around.

The curtain was now off the prize counter, and a few hunters perused the large, glass case. Two draconians slinked away at my approach, leaving only one person, a hunter closely inspecting something behind the glass. His name was Zabit, and he was a level 66 Beastmaster. He was an odd, unfamiliar alien race called an Atoll. Tall and thin with four arms and only three fingers on each hand. He had a thin, shovel-like face with high-set eyes, all set into wrinkly, dark, ape-like skin. A thick, wide leather belt hung loosely around his waist. Little, empty chains hung off it. I actually recognized what that was. It was a trap module bandolier. I received the same thing in a box once. I’d ended up selling it because my inventory was better and safer.

The hunter turned to face me, his belt jingling like little bells as he moved. He didn’t appear to have a mouth. Just a weird head, about a dozen nostril holes, and that was it, all surrounded by wrinkles and random, thick whiskers.

“Hello, Carl,” Zabit said. He made a sort of sign language motion with his hands, and the words projected out through something hidden in his clothes. His words sounded oddly robotic and emotionless. “I applaud you for almost angering Vrah to the point of breaking the peace seal. I do not know what would happen if one of us was banished to the Nothing, but I suspect it would not be pleasant. Who is the elite who just entered the room?”

“Oh, yeah. I know who you are,” I said, leaning on the counter. Chaco hovered nervously nearby. He took a step back, as if afraid of what would happen next. “When I first got to this floor, I was attacked by a bunch of night weasel mobs. Those were yours.”

“Yes,” he signed. “I thought to catch the top prey early, but you and your companions ended up killing my pets and ruining my chances at making any money this season. Still, I managed to collect a few scalps. Only twenty-five. The prizes are of quality, though are mostly useless at this point. It’s become quite impossible to sell our items.”

Twenty-five. This guy had killed 25 crawlers. I seethed. Then I thought of Eva, who’d managed to kill twice as many. Had they given her scalps? I hadn’t even thought about it.

Don’t engage, I thought. Don’t do this. It’s just going to make you angry.

“Why do you do it?” I asked.

He cocked his head. He was just a bit taller than me.

“Why do I do what?”

“Hunt crawlers. Travel across the universe to hunt and kill someone who is scared and doesn’t want to be here. Someone weaker than you. Does it make you feel tough? Powerful?”

“I hunt for the survival of the Atoll. My people may not be strong or many, but we are proud. I hunt and collect the money and bring it back home. And with that money, I am able to pay for the upkeep on our habitat. We are not considered citizens, so oxygen and land is not a right. Employment options are limited. Without this opportunity, we would be forced to sign a protection agreement with another system and live under indenture. My failure this season will make it difficult for my people to survive until the next. It is the risk I take. As for the rest of your question. No, it doesn’t make me feel tough or powerful. Some of us do revel in the killing. For others, it is a means of survival. I understand your objection. I would object, too, were the situations reversed.”

I had no real response to that. Then after a moment, I said, “It seems in a universe so large, one shouldn’t have to live somewhere inhospitable. It seems like it would be easy to find a place to live in peace.”

“It does seem like it should be that way, doesn’t it?”

He returned his attention to Chaco.

“I will take the drop shield for twenty scalps. The invisibility pack for three.”

Chaco took a hesitant step back toward the counter. “That leaves you with two.”

“I will take what I have ordered.”

“Suit yourself,” Chaco said. He reached behind the counter and dropped a round, poker chip-like device on the counter plus what looked like a case of 12, jingling potion bottles. I recognized them as invisibility potions. The items disappeared in a poof of smoke. “The items are added to your inventory, so you can’t use them in here.”

“My inventory is full already,” Zabit said. “We do not have unlimited storage like the crawlers.”

“I am aware. The items will appear in your box inventory,” he said. “Make certain you open the box before the floor ends, or you won’t be able to take it with you.”

“Wait,” I said, looking between the hunter and Chaco. “What happens when the floor collapses? Do you get to keep everything?”

“Just what’s in our inventory,” Zabit said. “And we are unable to sell it. We are given credit to gold exchange value.”

“How much is that?” I asked.

“Practically nothing.” He turned to move off.

Behind me, Theobold was back on the stage talking. He stuttered and stopped at the sight of Signet proudly sitting there in the front row, but then composed himself. The pet show was about to begin.

“Why does Mordecai hate you so much?” I asked Chaco.

The wolf man shook his fearsome head. “Hello to you, too, Carl. I’m still not allowed to say. Last time we spoke, I asked you to tell him I am sorry about what happened. I regret it every day. But if we hadn’t done it, we’d all be dead, including him and his brother. That’s all there is to say about it.” He paused uncertainly and then added, “They do that. If you survive long enough in this place, they’ll eventually make you turn on your own party. It happens every time. You’ll regret making it as far as you have, no matter who is helping you. No matter how close you are, we’re all alone in the end. Alone and broken with the choices we’ve had to make.” He jerked as if shocked. He reached up and wiped his face, taking a deep breath.

“You currently have 66 hunter hands in your inventory. Wow. Really? Huh, that’s a lot. Well, take a look at the prize counter and pick out what you like. Unlike last time, you can examine the names of everything, though not all descriptions will be present. Anything you purchase will be added to your inventory as a prize box, so you won’t have access right away. If you purchase an upgrade, those will be installed immediately.”

I looked down through the glass and started examining everything. I desperately tried to ignore what he’d said. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard someone say that. There were a few heartbreaking stories in the cookbook. Ones I tried not to think about, yet I found myself reading over and over. I shook my head, clearing out the noise.

The items turned on a vertical carousel, and they were represented by miniature holograms, allowing them to shove a ton of crap in the case. There was a lot of stuff. The left side of the case with the lower-hand cost items was mostly potions. For a single hand, one could get a 25-pack of good healing or mana potions. For two hands, there were upgrades, but you were limited to one from anything in that row. One could purchase plus ten percent to their lowest stat or plus five percent to their highest stat. Or plus two to a random combat skill or spell.

I gave Mordecai a running commentary of everything as I went over the prizes. I wasn’t planning on telling him who was overseeing the prize counter, but he already knew.

Mordecai: See if you can find out if that fuck tit is in the same room as you, and if he is, I would consider it a personal favor if you shoved a dynamite stick up his ass once the protection seal is broken.

Carl: Donut?

Mordecai: Yes. She told me. Now keep reading the prizes.

For the three and five hand prizes, there were literally dozens of potion choices. Everything from the invisibility potions that Zabit had picked to a few of those Size Up potions I’d taken from Miriam Dom to Feather Fall and several protection potions. There were also numerous scroll choices.

Mordecai: How many hands did Donut end up with? Eight?

Carl: Correct. I’m thinking we should either get the constitution boost or the plus two to a skill for her. It’s too bad she can’t get both. There’s a random spell book prize at five hands. Most of these potions are things I can get easily or you can make. There’s a few scrolls, too. A scroll of mapping. A scroll called Paw Patrol. Isn’t that a kid’s show? One called the Milk of Lamashtu. I don’t know what any of these do.

Mordecai: Those potions are all a waste. I agree with you. She should get the plus five percent to her lowest base stat and then the random spell book.

Carl: It’s too bad she didn’t get ten. There’s a single potion of level-up. That’s limited to one also. There are a few spell books. Poison Grapple. Scar Tissue. Fish Blaster. What the hell do these do?

On the stage, a crawler came out. It was the same one I’d seen earlier getting out of the second caravan. I couldn’t remember his name and couldn’t examine him from here. He was one of the Brazilian guys, I was pretty sure. I didn’t know much about his party, called Team Flamengo, but I knew this guy only put his stats into his dexterity. He had his hawk on his shoulder. A spotlight hit him, and he stood there on stage, not saying anything for several seconds.

“Uh,” he said awkwardly, his voice amplified loudly throughout the ballroom. “This is Gimli. My stone hawk. He can turn people to stone. He turned a hunter to stone yesterday, and then I kicked the statue over, and it shattered.”

Several crawlers cheered at that.

“I don’t recommend it. I couldn’t loot him.”

Elle was suddenly next to me, also looking at all the items. She’d collected a total of seven hands. “This party sucks,” she said, looking at the case. She glanced over at the hunters and suddenly perked up. “Hey, you!” she said to a hunter standing by himself nearby. It was a human with no hair or eyebrows, standing nervously and holding a drink with two hands. A Crest. He pointed to his chest questioningly.

“Yeah, you! Come here! I wanna ask you something. I saw something really fucked up earlier, and I can’t stop thinking about it.” She zipped off without picking anything from the case.

The other hunters continued to huddle near their buffet table. Vrah was shouting at a group of them, who were arguing back.

“It’s over,” someone shot back at Vrah. “Let it go. We just want to go home.”

Vrah looked at me and hissed at the others to be quiet.

On stage, the brown hawk cawed and opened his wings, revealing opalescent colors within.

“You fuckers are lucky,” the guy said from the stage, pointing at the hunters, as if he was gaining confidence. “Gimli would’ve fucked you up if we found you.”

Donut: DO YOU SEE THIS. HE WASN’T EVEN PREPARED. I HAVE THIS IN THE BAG.

I turned my attention back to the case. I looked at the 20-hand items. There were more spellbooks and magic wands and individual, magical oddities, like that token thing Zabit had picked.

Carl: What’s a drop shield?

Mordecai: Disposable item. Like your protective shell, but it lasts for about an hour or it can get killed by a lot of damage. You can turn it on and off, but once the battery is dead, it’s dead. It’s a great prize, but it only works if it’s rooted in place, so you can’t clip it to your belt and run with it. It doesn’t stop magic. Will stop explosions, but one of yours will probably be enough to break it and kill you.

Carl: There’s a shrink wand like Zhang had before. Ten charges.

Mordecai: That’s also a good choice. Is there any sheet music?

Carl: Yes. There’s a few at ten hands, but I didn’t go over them.

Mordecai: Ask Chaco if there’s anything like his escape spell.

“Uh,” I said. “Mordecai wants to know if there’s any sheet music like your escape spell.”

He looked up at me, eyes registering surprise. “You have a bard in your party?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Donut sings now.”

“How is she? Can she hold pitch?”

“Uh,” I said. “She’s getting better. She has a vocal coach in our safe room.”

He nodded. “That one,” he said, pointing at a sheet of music. “Ten hands. A song of Skedaddle. Not quite as good as Wings of the Pyxie, which is what he’s talking about, but she wouldn’t be able to sing that one for a while anyway. What does she know now?”

“She has a party heal spell, an illusion spell, an ice spell that she still can’t cast very well, a psionic attack that makes her nose bleed and does nothing else to mobs, and a new song she’s been working on. She got the sheet music for it, and she sang it perfectly on her second or third try.”

“Really?” he asked. “That’s pretty impressive.”

“That’s what she keeps telling me,” I said.

Sheet music was something between a scroll and a magic book, and it was exclusive to bards. One could use it more than once, and it allowed a bard to sing a song they normally couldn’t. The system helped them perform if they had the music in front of them, making it easier to pull off. But it still wasn’t a sure thing. If the song was performed well and in key, it cast. If not, the page tore just a little bit. Too many tears, and it was ruined. If you managed to sing it perfectly all the way through with perfect pitch, the song was added to your bard spellbook, called your repertoire. The sheet music didn’t go away in that case, either, so you could save it for duets or to sell later.

The song Donut was going to sing this evening was easy for her because it was a song she’d been hearing her entire life. There was a bit of a mystery there, a chicken and the egg thing, but I had too much to deal with to wonder on it for long. I returned my attention back to the case.

At a price of thirty hands, there were only two items, both called Future Floor Boons. One was a little checkered flag and was called Seventh Floor Pole Position (Sold Out), and the next was called Eighth Floor Book of Lore – Random. There was a sign under both that said, “Limited to one each.”

“Who bought that seventh floor upgrade?”

“The goat. He had 33 hands. He was my first customer. Bought that, the skill upgrade, and a case of mana potions. He didn’t even ask about it. Just walked up, pointed at it, and took it.”

At fifty hands there were multiple full sets of armor and weapons, none of which would be good for me. There were also more spellbooks, including War Lord and Gore Golem. Both were 100 mana spells and not worth it for 50 hands according to Mordecai.

At the end of the case was a little, glowing gem. From the hologram it looked like it was maybe the size of a grape and had no color at all, but even in hologram form, it glittered as it moved. At first I thought it was a soul crystal. Those were without value once they were installed as a power source, unless used as an explosive. Unused ones were supposedly rare and treasured.

However, upon closer inspection, I saw this was not actually listed as a soul crystal.

Carl: What’s a memorial crystal?

Mordecai: Forget everything else. Get that.

Carl: I can’t. It’s 100 hands. The most expensive thing in there. What is it?

Prepotente was now on stage with Bianca. He literally said nothing. He just screamed once, and the massive, sizzling, black-fire goat thing hissed. They got off the stage, which smoldered and then caught on fire. Elves appeared from nowhere and started stamping out the flames.

Mordecai: Long story. Soul crystals, the ones that elves use to power their stuff, are mined from Scolopendra’s lair. They’re created when certain types of people die, and their souls get filtered through the worm’s body. Memorial crystals are similar, but they’re created by fallen gods and demi-gods. They’re filled with information, usually god-tier-level spells and knowledge. One can get the information out of them by charging it up. You charge them up by installing it on a weapon or your armor or just wearing it like jewelry and killing stuff. There’s lots of storylines about these things, usually on the 10th and 11th floor.

Carl: Well, it’s out of reach unless I can kill 34 more of these guys and collect the hands before the end of the night. Too bad they don’t let us pool our money.

Mordecai: See if that murdering prick knows what god it came from.

“Hey, Chaco. What god made that memorial crystal?”

“A dead one,” he said.

“No shit. You don’t know?”

He shrugged. “All the description says is that it was discovered during a mining exhibition by the high elves. The queen normally wears it around her neck. She’ll get it back if nobody buys it.”

I remembered the queen’s necklace. I’d assumed it was a soul crystal.

“Mordecai says these things store information. You have no idea what’s on it?”

“None. I do know it’s the queen’s most prized-possession. It’s a part of this whole butcher spell. They have to offer their most valuable item as a prize.”

I felt that same anticipatory tingle I’d felt as soon as I’d heard about the Gate of the Feral Gods. “If I happen to collect a few more hands before the evening is over, but they’re still in their prize boxes, can I use them?”

Chaco smiled, revealing his wolf teeth. “Nope. You’ll have to get to a saferoom first to open them up. There ain’t no saferooms in the castle. And you ain’t collecting hands, anyway. The second the seal is broken, I teleport out of here.”

I sighed. Behind me on the stage, a pair of elves were spraying something on the wood where Bianca had just left.

I sighed. “I’ll take the shrink wand, the eighth floor lore book thing, that music sheet of Skedaddle, and that case of 24 Feather Fall potions, and a case of healing potions.”

~

After a parade of other pets, it was time for Mongo to appear. I made my way back to the stage. Signet remained talking to the judges. Katia had joined them for a few minutes. No further guards came into the room or did anything about her presence. Elle had moved off into a corner and was in a deep conversation with the hairless, human hunter. The dude looked like he was crying. She said something to him angrily and zipped away, coming back toward our side of the room. I turned my attention to the stage.

Donut had been preparing for this while I was either in the training room or the crafting studio. While I knew exactly how her talent show performance later was supposed to go, I hadn’t been involved in any of the arrangements for this.

“We need to keep it low-key,” I’d said once she started preparing. “Just bring Mongo out, have him shriek a few times, and get off the stage. We don’t want to tip our hand that your talent show production is going to be a little... You know.”

“Extra?” she’d asked.

“Yeah. Extra.”

“But...” Donut had protested.

“Low key.”

The lights in the entire ballroom dimmed. A red glow emanated on stage. A small billow of smoke appeared.

“Ladies and gentleman. Crawlers and hunters alike, prepare yourselves,” came Louis’s voice over the loudspeaker. He was hidden somewhere backstage.

“Oh fuck,” I muttered.

~~

Hey everyone. I am pretty much done. There are still several chapters to post, but they’re going to get shorter and zippier to help counteract the lengthy setup. This whole scene is meant to be like a roller coaster pushing its way up and up until it goes over the bend, and then it’s going to be just gonzo nutso until the very end.  I’m in the process of reworking the last chapter and still need to do the epilogue, which might be a little lengthy. I still haven’t decided what to stick in this book and what to add to the front of the next. I’m also planning on writing a (very) short story that may end up as the prologue in the next one.  

I’ll start spamming over on royal road in a few days too.

I’ll probably have several minor retcon edits, mostly timeline edits and removal of hooks that don’t get paid off because I keep changing how the ending lands. Thanks for all your support