Book 8, Chapters 1, 2, and 3. Plus Tour Update (Patreon)

Heat 1 of 8

Chapter 1

Welcome, Crawler. Welcome to the tenth floor.

Time to Level Collapse: Level timer has been temporarily suspended for this floor. Please wait for the announcement from that inebriated fish if we can manage to wake her up for the details.

Views: 933 septillion

Followers: 3.5 Quintillion

Favorites: 971 Quadrillion

Leaderboard rank: 3

Bounty: 6,000,000 gold

Congrats, Crawler. You have received a Platinum Venison Box.  

Remaining Crawlers: 5,501

Entering your garage.

Warning: The next heat starts in five minutes. Safe Room Access is blocked until the heat is over.

I hit the tiled floor with a heavy thump. One moment I’d been sitting in the zero zone, talking with Quasar about that psychotic naga woman who’d convinced the courts that she was now my wife, and about how Donut had ripped her a new asshole during their meeting, and the next I was here.

I stood and looked about, wiping myself off. I was still covered in blood and gore and red ash from the end of Faction Wars. This was a large room with a black and white checkered, tiled floor and corrugated metal walls, like a smaller sized airplane hangar. It was cold. I turned to face the only other creature in here. Two creatures, I realized. It was a pair of white-tagged gremlins, standing in the back corner, both wearing overalls.   

I blinked at the NPCs just as Donut appeared next to me with a yowl. She hit the ground sideways, yelped, and then popped up to her feet.

Donut jumped to my shoulder and gave me a quick headbutt.

“Carl, I’m atop the leaderboard again! I’m number one!”

“I’m very happy for you,” I said.

“So, I met the new wife,” she said. “She’s quite the charmer. Have you met her yet?”

“Yeah, I heard a little about your meeting,” I said. I gave her a pat. “I haven’t met her, but Quasar filled me in. I heard you grabbed the upper hand pretty quickly.”

“Don’t be racist. It’s upper paw. But, yes. If she thinks she can just slither in and take advantage of the Posse like that, that legless bitch has another thing coming. And I thought Miss Beatrice was bad. You sure know how to pick them, Carl.”  

I was about to protest, but I paused. There was an ominous countdown timer in the upper left of my vision, and I didn’t know what it meant. It was at four minutes and thirty seconds and counting down. We needed to figure it out before we did anything else. 

“Where are we?” She gasped again. “I have to pick a new class!”

Donut: MORDECAI I HAVE TO PICK A NEW CLASS. HELP ME WITH THE CHOICES.

Mordecai: There you guys are. It’s been a few days since the end of the last floor. A lot has happened out there. That can wait. You have four minutes to get your vehicle ready. Donut, you’re back as party leader, so you’ll have to choose it, but it probably won’t pop up until you pick your class. So pick something fast. Work quickly.  

I turned in a circle. At the front of the garage was a massive, roll-up door. A chain pully system criss-crossed the ceiling. I’d seen plenty of similar systems in both car shops and drydock repair bays, used for lifting engines and other heavy components. The two gremlins started jogging toward us.

I already knew some of what was going on out there because Quasar had told me, but even he hadn’t known everything that had happened. As I looked about, I quickly clicked through the messages and pop-ups that had appeared, my heart still racing. I briefly paused at that number 5,501. That meant 75% of us had taken deals.

I took the briefest of moments to let that sink in. Such an overwhelming sense of second-hand relief flooded over me. And, honestly, a small amount of jealousy. I didn’t blame anyone for tapping out. Each and every one of them had earned it.

Part of me wished I had the luxury. Even if this had been a normal crawl, I knew that path wouldn’t be for me.

I was stalling, even if just for another second. I already knew what the next message was. A message reminding me why I would never be able to take that path. I took a breath.  

Justice Light: I am not sorry. Peace to you all, brothers and sisters.

This message is from a deceased NPC.

A pull of sadness overwhelmed me. I already knew Justice Light was dead. Quasar had told me. Still, the sight of those words was like a kick to the stomach.

You crazy asshole, I thought. What did you did? What did that trap do?

As I looked at it, a response came in on the group chat.

Rosetta: Rest well, comrade. We are not far behind. 

She was still in here in the saferoom, as was Tipid. They’d both been converted to hired mercenaries.

Quasar hadn’t really known the specifics. All he knew was that the Nothing was “broken” and that everything was in chaos on the 12th and 18th floors because of whatever Justice Light had done. And furthermore, the outworlders on those two floors were protected from really dying by the system AI. They could get hurt on the 18th floor, they could still “die,” but they would immediately get brought back to their rooms in the club. A club that was physically inside of the now-awake dungeon boss. The system wasn’t letting anyone eject to the onboarding facility because the facility in question had since been blown out of orbit by Homecoming Queen. And some of the things that had leaked from the Nothing were using this to their advantage. It was like what we’d done to Growler Gary, but worse. Much worse.

Quasar had only given me a quick version of these things. So far, the now-awake Scolopendra hadn’t done anything other than move around a lot. Regardless, the worm’s actions didn’t affect us when we weren’t on the 12th or 15th or 18th floor. Apparently the tourists on the 18th floor had the ability to move themselves to the 16th floor where it was safe, but they first had to make their way through the 17th floor for some reason, where it was not, and anyone who even attempted it got turned to mince and immediately brought back to life on the 18th where the worst of the worst were stalking the hallways.

Forgotten gods. Demons from hundreds of former quests. All sorts of other horrific creatures. Several had made their way to the 18th floor, but, luckily—or not luckily, depending on how you looked at it—these creatures all appeared inside the final boss. And not just inside the monster’s guts, but inside the club where they immediately set themselves on the guests. Guests who couldn’t die, no matter what was being done to them.  

When a guest died, they basically got regenerated in their room, and their rooms had security that kept others out. But, apparently, some of these NPCs and gods were quite smart and had already figured this out, taking efforts not to let any captured off worlders die.

The cameras had gone dark after the first few hours, and all the AI would say is “It’s not time for these floors. Focus on the 10th and on the Ascendency games.”     

Those on the 12th were faring better, considering they were in the bodies of gods with god powers. Though apparently the non-sponsored gods were all suddenly acting quite strange. And not only that, but some had disappeared, and the AI wasn’t telling anyone where they’d gone. That’s all Quasar had known. We hadn’t time to get into the details. I hoped the city of Larracos and all those who’d gone with it to the 12th floor were doing okay.   

More messages came in, but I didn’t have time to read them in detail. I didn’t want to read them in detail, other to note who was here and who wasn’t. Elle. Imani. Zhang. Florin. Louis. Chris. Britney. Bautista. All checking in. Prepotente had some rant about Jurgen that I didn’t understand.

So many of my friends hadn’t taken deals.

Donut: OMG THESE CLASSES STILL COME WITH ACCESSORIES!

She gasped.

Donut: SOME COME WITH PET ACCESSORIES! THE LAS VEGAS SHOWGIRL COMES WITH A FEATHERED HAT FOR MONGO! AND ONE FOR REND, TOO! 

Mordecai: That’s a good class, but this one might be better.

Donut: I AM NOT PICKING ZOO WARDEN. MY GOODNESS. OHHH, WHAT ABOUT THIS ONE? PROBLEMATIC INFLUENCER? IT COMES WITH AN UPGRADE TO MY SOCIAL MEDIA BOARD!

Mordecai: You don’t need any more charisma boosts. You’re going to want to focus on offensive spells.

Donut: THERE’S ANOTHER TAB! LOOK AT THIS ONE!

Mordecai: Holy shit, I see it. Uh, we should probably study these further before you pick one from this tab, and we don’t have time. These are in association with your other deity titles. They’re all related to something Odette pulled, and I’m not certain what picking any of these really mean. This is all new to me. 

Donut: WE ARE IN A HURRY, BUT THESE ARE MUCH BETTER. THIS ONE COMES WITH THE DEATH RAY SPELL AND THE HEALING AURA AND A HAT. WHAT DOES PREHISTORIC FORM MEAN?

She gasped all over again as she, presumably, saw yet another benefit or class.

Donut: I’M PICKING IT.   

Donut glowed.

Donut: HEY! I JUST GOT A REALLY NASTY MESSAGE FROM KHEPRI. ISN’T THAT THE WEIRD BUG GOD THAT CARL AND KATIA FOUGHT ON THE LAST FLOOR? IT SAYS HE’S FORMING A “DEATH CULT” IN MY NAME. WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?

Mordecai: Nothing good.

“What did you pick?” I asked.

“Assassin of Sekhmet,” she said. “It comes with accessories for every pet in the party, and all sorts of great spells and other stuff! I can phase like you can!”

Warning: The next Heat starts in two minutes, and you don’t even have a vehicle or mount. You’re not allowed to walk, dumbasses.

“Carl, what is a ‘heat’? That sounds obscene.”

The gremlins were suddenly there, both looking worried. One was a female gremlin, named Hedy, and the other a male named Donovan. They both started talking at once, shouting about us having to quickly make a choice. These shouts turned to a scuffle, and then, out of nowhere, they were suddenly beating the shit out of each other, all the while they continued to shout at us. I could barely understand either of them. The woman gremlin had been lugging a red toolbox, but she’d dropped it to the ground the moment they’d started to fight. The man had some sort of vegetable in his hand. It was a tan-colored gourd, and he was now attempting to bash it over the head of the woman gremlin.

I quickly examined them both as they grappled, starting with the woman.

Hedy. Gremlin. Level 30 vehicle mechanic.

This is an applicant to be manager of your garage.

This is a non-combatant NPC.

Hedy is an expert in all things mechanical. If you choose a mechanical-based vehicle, she will be in charge of your garage. Don’t let her appearance fool you. She’s about as experienced as one can get when it comes to engines. If you can limp your vehicle—and yourselves—back to the garage, rest assured it’ll be good as new by the time the next heat starts.

Warning: Just because Hedy is a non-combatant NPC, it doesn’t mean she’s invulnerable. If something happens to her, your vehicle will not get repaired between heats. Your upgrades won’t automatically get installed. You will need to put measures in place to protect Hedy.

Hedy is not allowed to enter your saferoom.

The second description was similar.

Donovan. Gremlin. Level 30 animal trainer.

This is an applicant to be manager of your garage.

This is a non-combatant NPC.

Donovan is an expert in all things biological. If you choose a flesh-based vehicle, he will be in charge of your garage. From a minor case of the sniffles to appendage amputation, he will make certain your trusty mount is ready for the next heat.

Donovan had the same set of warnings as the other gremlin at the end.

The two gremlins continued to roll across the garage floor. Donovan had Hedy pinned and was smacking her over the head with his gourd thing as she blindly reached for her toolbox.

As soon as I finished reading both descriptions, a new message popped up.

Your party leader must choose the manner of vehicle. Mechanical or biological. Once you choose between the two, you will spin the wheel for the specific vehicle chassis or creature. This will be your conveyance for the entirety of the floor.

“A vehicle?” Donut said incredulously. “I have the Twinkle Toes spell and a level 15 Heal Critter. Mongo won’t like another animal in the party, but it’s probably the best choice.”

“Pet spells don’t work on special mounts,” Hedy the gremlin gasped from the floor. She managed to grasp her toolbox and reach inside. She pulled a mallet that was much too big to have fit in the box. With a shout of triumph, she swung the giant mallet, clocking the other gremlin. She remained on the floor, panting. “Neither Twinkle Toes or Heal Critter will work on them!”

The other gremlin growled as he scrambled to his feet. He bled profusely from a cut on his head. He still held the gourd in his hand. “Don’t tell them that, you bitch!” He jumped at the prone woman like a wrestler leaping from the ropes, gourd over his head as he smashed it upon his opponent’s face. The vegetable thing broke into pieces, and tiny bugs spilled out, crawling all over her. The woman gremlin shrieked, wiping them off with her free hand as she writhed on the ground. She blindly swung her mallet, almost catching me in the foot.   

“It’s the truth, jackass,” she called as she sputtered.

“Carl, what is happening?” Donut demanded.

“Uh, I think they’re both applying for a job.” 

We had one minute left.

“My goodness, you two. Quit fighting!” Donut called. “Carl, I’m starting to feel the definition of ‘non-combatant’ is very loose.” 

“What did you call me, you unshaven hedge-creeper?” Donovan bellowed as he punched Hedy right in the face with a closed fist. There was a terrible crunch.

“What about Repair and Fix scrolls and potions?” I asked.

“Nope,” Donovan said triumphantly as he continued to pound her in the face. He grunted with each punch. “All vehicles are proprietary to the arena. That stuff you use for your other vehicles ain’t gonna work. Ever seen a Charm Wombat? You can’t get better handling than one of those furry bastards. And with a few upgrades... Ooof!”

He didn’t finish as the mallet once again connected with his head with a wet smack. He tumbled away.

Hedy sat up and sneezed, sending blood and beetles everywhere. “If you have any other pets in your party, a mechanical vehicle won’t ever try to eat them,” she said as she gasped.

And with that one statement, I knew Hedy had won the fight.

From next door I heard the revving of a high-octane engine, like a muscle car. The walls of our garage shook.

“You,” Donut said, pointing at Hedy. “I choose you.”

“Ha!” Hedy shouted.

“Wait, wait, please,” Donovan said, backing away, still holding his head. “You could get a Cloud Cheetah. With their speed and agility...”

“I’m quite sorry Donovan,” Donut said, “but we are in a hurry. I’m afraid we will be going with something that’s not going to eat my Mongo. We choose mechanical. And just a word of advice for your next job interview. I would refrain from...” 

Blam!

Donovan exploded in a spray of red and green mist.

“Gah!” I called, jumping back as Donut yowled.

Mechanical has been chosen. Your Mechanic is Hedy.

Chapter 2

Hedy the gremlin didn’t react at the sudden and unexpected detonation of her co-applicant. She was already running for the front of the garage. She leapt and grabbed the chain, pulling the door open. “As soon as it appears, jump in! You come in last place, you die just like Donovan! Me too, so get your asses in gear! Only one of you touch the steering wheel or controls. You can’t drive two heats in a row, and there’s only two of you! Don’t come in last! Do whatever you can to not come in last!”

Before either of us could react to that, a giant wheel appeared, standing right over the soupy remains of the exploded gremlin. There were literally 100 plus spots on the round, now-familiar spinning apparatus, and each spot consisted of a vague, cartoon silhouette of a vehicle. I only had time to see a few before it started spinning. One was a literal school bus. Another appeared to be a Hummer. These were all Earth-based vehicles of various sizes. I caught sight of what looked like a moped followed by a massive dump truck.

“Do we need speed?” I called. “Or something armored?”

“You get what you get,” Hedy called as she struggled with the door. As she pulled, it revealed a black, asphalt road. It was dark outside. Multiple shapes were emerging, both driving and walking as they pulled up to a line. “The track conditions and hazards are gonna change each time! First three races will all be paved!”

As the wheel turned, the countdown timer suddenly froze with 20 seconds left. The dungeon loudspeaker crackled to life. The wheel continued to spin.

A familiar voice called out into the garage.   

You’re all going to die. You should already be dead. You idiots should have all taken deals. You did it to torture me, didn’t you? Why are you fighting it? Why? Why are you still alive? Why am I still alive? Why won’t you let me die?

The button remained pressed for several seconds, and we could hear the sound of her just sitting there, bubbling.

Everything hurts.

There was a blare of feedback, and then the intercom cut off.

“Uh, Carl,” Donut asked. “Was that the kill, kill, kill lady?”

“It was,” I said. 

The wheel started to slow, and the countdown timer resumed for about two seconds and then paused again.

The loudspeaker crackled to life a second time, but this time it was clearly Zev’s voice. She sounded harried as if she’d had to dive for the loudspeaker.

Uh, hello. Everyone. It looks like we have just over 5,500 crawlers who survived Faction Wars and decided they wanted to continue on. That means there was just under 15,000 who took a deal, which is fantastic, and a record. The system AI has asked me to tell you to ignore what’s happening on any other floors and to, and this is a quote, ‘focus on the floor like everything is normal. Because everything is normal. F-you if you think overwise.’ Uh, okay, okay. ‘Fuck you if you think overwise.’ What my, uh, colleague was trying to say just before is this is the tenth floor. The floor is officially called “Don’t come in last.” I guess you can figure out what that means. The floor will consist of eight heats, or races. In each heat, it’ll be you versus seven other NPC teams. Well, the first one is seven teams. Then six teams. You get the idea. The team that comes in last place each heat is eliminated. If you’re in a party of over four people, you’ve been split into teams no bigger than four, and if you’re solo, you’ve been teamed up with one or two other crawlers. It looks like the final number of teams is exactly 1,800, which is a lot more than we originally planned as you can imagine. And since every track is different, we’ve had to allow the AI to design most of these tracks. So, uh, keep that in mind. These are essentially races, and you may only travel using your assigned vehicle or animal. If it is destroyed or killed during your journey, you are automatically eliminated.

As Zev spoke, the wheel tick-ticked as it slowed. The choices all came into view. Snowmobile. Something I was pretty sure was a library bookmobile. The Popemobile. It kept slowly moving. A forklift. Some sort of military missile launcher. Zev continued.   

   Your vehicle or creature will always be 100% repaired or healed between races as long as your garage attendant remains alive. At the end of each heat, you will be able to choose an upgrade for your vehicle or creature. If you come in first place in a heat, you can choose three regular upgrades or one golden upgrade I think they’re called. At the end of the fourth heat, everyone gets one golden upgrade of their choice. And again at the end of the seventh heat. Also, if you come in last. Well, second to last, then the audience gets to vote for your upgrade. You’ll always get a hint of what the next heat will consist of, and you’ll need to pay attention because you might need an upgrade that will help you survive the next environment.

“Oh shit,” I said as the wheel hovered over what was either a floor polisher or a goddamned Zamboni. And then it clicked one more time before settling on the square shape of a box truck. A box truck with windows.

“Carl, what is that?” Donut asked, peering at the choice.

The wheel disappeared with a pop, which caused more Donovan bits and gourd pieces to splatter everywhere. The truck crunched into place, bouncing up and down on squeaking shocks as it teleported right in front of us in the middle of the large garage.

It was, as I suspected. I sighed.

“It’s a food truck,” I said.

It did not have the exact same shape as the silhouette. This was much more... festive than the image on the wheel had been.

“Is that a real gun on the top?” Donut asked.  

“I don’t think so.”

The colorful, gleaming truck appeared to have come right off the assembly line. It was about 20-feet long. It was, at first glance, a typical, large-sized food truck. At least the body of it was. It was basically the same body of a package delivery truck, but presumably with a small kitchen within. Two axel but with dual wheels in the back. The now-familiar logo of a chicken with a fedora and red tie was painted on the side under the bullet hole-ridden logo.

Big Shot Chicken. I’d never heard of the restaurant chain before we’d entered the dungeon, but Donut and I had spent quite some time stuck in a Big Shot Chicken safe room on the second floor while we’d been trapped by the rage elemental. The whole restaurant was, apparently, a small chain from somewhere in the southwest of the United States. A chicken restaurant with a 1920’s gangster theme.

The truck was clearly a modern model, though the front was replaced with a faux, 1920’s style hood made to mimic a prohibition-era truck, complete with curved wheel wells made of shining chrome and round, fluted headlamps. The whole front had kind of a plasticky, fiberglass look to it that gave the impression that maybe this food truck wasn’t really meant to be driven at all, and it normally sat at an amusement park or state fair somewhere, more for show than mobility. 

Which gave me a very, very ominous feeling.

But the most distinctive feature of the truck was the massive, clearly plastic tommy gun on the roof of the thing. The gun’s most distinctive feature—the gigantic, round drum magazine—partially obscured the windshield to the point where it would be dangerous to drive. Seeing that the windshield was mostly covered pretty much confirmed what I’d already suspected. That this thing wasn’t street legal.

I hoped it had an engine.   

Zev continued to talk, but she spoke much more quickly and with more urgency.

We’ll have more details after the first heat. You are allowed to fight and attack the other drivers. The first heat is about to start, so make sure you’re ready to go! There will be more rules clarified soon, but the AI is telling me to wrap it up. Use your garage attendants! They know the rules! Every heat must have a different driver, so only one of you touch the steering wheel or hold the reins, especially if it’s just two of you. Also, try not to kill more than one team because if more than two teams don’t make it to the finish line...

The speaker abruptly cut off.

The timer continued to tick down.

“Get in! Get in!” Hedy called. “Only one person drive!”

“Carl, how am I supposed to drive this thing!” Donut demanded as I rushed into the driver seat. There was no passenger seat at all. Just a gleaming, metal floor with a no-slip mat. There was no divider between the front and the back, and a brand-new, aluminum kitchen filled the back space.

“We’ll worry about that later. Hang on,” I called. I turned the key, and, thankfully, an engine rumbled to life. A good, healthy engine. Only mildly relieved, I looked down, and despite the strange exterior, it appeared this was all built on the chassis of a real, gasoline—not diesel—truck. It wasn’t going to be fast, but hopefully it would run just fine. “If we’re the slowest ones, we’re gonna have to take out one of our opponents right away! Do you still have your sniping skills?”

“I do! I have a death ray now too!”

“Okay, Donut. That’s goddamned terrifying. Use your Magic Missile until we know how the Death Ray works. Get ready.”

Donut, because she had no seat, jumped to my right shoulder. She scoffed, still unable to see because of the decorative tommy gun. “Carl, this is not acceptable! How can I snipe if I can’t see anyone?”

Heat One Starting Now. Details will populate to your navigation system momentarily.   

Chapter 3

There was a loud horn, presumably indicating the start of the race, and a device I hadn’t yet noticed on the dashboard lit up.

I held my breath, and I hit the gas. The whole truck lurched forward. It moved not as fast as I would like, but much more quickly than I feared. Donut yowled as her claws dug into my shoulder. I had to sit really low in the seat and turn my head a little sideways to see out the front because of the goddamned gun thing on the roof. Ahead in the dark, most of our opponents were already at the starting line, and several zoomed off at the sound of the horn.

The panel on the dash gave a few beeps. It was a navigation system of some sort. It was a square box with the words Navitron 1000 over it. A map appeared on the flatscreen but minimized itself, and then words popped up. The moment I looked at the GPS, the words spoke in my head like it was an item description, only this was a distinctly female AI voice:

Heat number one of eight.

Driver: Carl

Navigator: The Champion of Nekhebit, Harbinger of Doom, Assassin of the Great and Feral Sekhmet, Princess Donut, She Who is Foretold to Bring the Gnashing of the Teeth and the Woe of All who Harbor Hope and is Known as the Oak Fell to Those Who Dare Utter Her Name.   

Reserve Crew: None.

Distance: 53 kilometers.

Distance to next rest area or refueling pit stop: This heat does not have any pit stops.

Track: asphalt-paved road. Mostly flat.

There is only one path for this heat.

Tasks required to complete: None. Just get to the finish line.

Environment: The Caves of the Screeching Death Manatees.

Hazards: Not yet discovered, but I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest the Screeching Death Manatees might be a problem.  

Time Limit: 6 hours.

Current ranking: Unknown. Upgrade GPS to get real-time ranking updates.  

It was pitch black out here, and I could barely see. I scrambled to find the headlights. I found them and pulled the switch, but nothing happened.   

“Carl, do you see what that thing is calling me!”

“Light! I need light,” I yelled.  

Donut waved her paw, almost casually, and the entire area in front of us lit up brilliantly with her Torch spell.

Only some of the vehicles ahead had lights. One—already way off in the distance—was clearly a muscle car of some sort, but it was either a convertible or it had the roof ripped off. I could see three tall shapes in the thing before it disappeared. Right behind it was a fuzzy, four-legged bear-like creature that loped like it had the Twinkle Toes spell, despite our gremlin’s insistence that such spells didn’t work. Yet another creature—this appeared to be a giant beetle—skittered off into the night, right on the tail of the other two. A minivan that immediately made me think of Louis also started to rumble off into the night, though it didn’t turn on its lights.

Something jumped over us and evaporated into the darkness, melding into the shadows. I didn’t get a good view, but it looked like an enormous, twenty-foot dog or a wolf that was made of the night itself, reminding me of Jola the Yule cat from the card floor. Donut hissed at the sight of it.  

We tore over the white starting line and moved to the dark road, passing by what appeared to be a giant tumbleweed.

The strange, round bush just sat there, unmoving in the middle of the wide road. The prickly thing was tall—just as tall as our truck—and it was a round tangle of weeds and brambles. I did a double take as we passed. Sticking straight out the center of the entire mess was the head of a goddamned unicorn. A unicorn ripped straight from a little kid’s Lisa Frank notebook. All I could see was the head, but it was a white horse with a rainbow-hued mane that looked as if it had just been brushed. A horn that glittered like an opalescent seashell rose from the thing’s head. The head was about the size of a regular horse, and it stuck out the top center of the tumbleweed as if it was wearing the brambles like a coat. I couldn’t tell what the hell I was looking at. The unicorn’s head appeared way too high for it to be standing firmly on the ground.

Some sort of gray, fuzzy creature sat upon the head of the unicorn, but I couldn’t tell what it was in the dark. The unicorn started shouting something at us as we passed, but my window was rolled up, and I couldn’t hear it, and we’d soon left it behind.  

“I only saw six opponents,” I called, trying to look into the side mirror before realizing there were no side mirrors. “Donut, how many did you count!”

We knew at least one was behind us, assuming the unicorn tumbleweed was an opponent. And was the horse the mount, or was it the contestant?

“I can’t see anything!” she shouted. “And there’s no radio, either!”

Ahead, the road was just a straight, black highway with no markings. Despite the brightness of Donut’s spell, I couldn’t see anything on either side except random, sickly-looking trees. There was an occasional glitter, implying there was water out there, too.  

I tried to look at my minimap, but I received an error.

Your base minimap is disabled while you are moving. You must stop and exit the vehicle to use the map.  

Damnit. I tried to cast Ping, and it worked, but the moment I cast it, I realized the spell was still useless. The results popped up on my map, and I’d have to stop and get out to look at it. That wouldn’t be worth it. Not for such a short race.

I glanced again at the GPS, and that did have a map. But it was just a mostly-straight line with no other features.

“It says were supposed to be in a cave?” I called. I could clearly see stars out the windshield. “There’s no cave.”

The GPS didn’t answer or react.

I had the accelerator pressed all the way down, and we were moving about 70 miles per hour, which translated to about 112 kilometers per hour. The heavy truck didn’t seem to want to accelerate past that. I couldn’t see anyone in front of us at all. At this rate, we’d hit the finish line in just about 25 minutes if we didn’t stop.

Donut unleashed Mongo into the passenger side and jumped to his back. The dinosaur screeched in fear at appearing in such closed quarters. He waved his wings, smacking me in the face, causing me to swerve.

“Careful!” I shouted. Mongo’s tail feathers reached all the way to the back of the long truck. He let at another fearful screech.

“It’s okay, Mongo,” Donut said. “Mommy needs you as a seat so I can look outside for bad guys.”

Mongo peeped again, but this time it had a different tone. I knew that tone.

“Don’t let Mongo puke on the dashboard!” I called.   

I had more and more messages appearing by the moment, but I was studiously ignoring them as I drove. Not yet, I thought. Not yet.

We hadn’t had a break. We’d gone from the frantic chaos of the end of the ninth floor straight to our lawyers straight to this without a rest. I had dozens of boxes to open. Achievements to go over. A fan box. An impossible god quest that was about to come to a head. Friends to check on. War mages to worry about. An Agatha problem.

Lucia Mar, who somehow had over 100,000 kids in her head. I didn’t even know if she was still here.

It was too much.

For the moment, I ignored it all and pretended like I was driving. Just driving and nothing more. Not racing for our lives, though even that part was strangely okay. It was so absurdly normal compared to the army-sized fights of the last floor that I felt a strange calm come over me as we rushed down the dark, featureless road. There was comfort in this straightforward anxiety. This danger—at least for the moment—was just between myself and Donut.

Right now if I made a mistake, I would die. Donut would die. And that’s it.

There was not a thing I could do at this very moment that would result in the death of thousands, and I could cry at the relief I felt.

But I knew. I knew that feeling was both temporary and false.

Slam, slam, slam.

No. Don’t think of that.

But how could I not? How many times now in just the past five minutes had Donut wiped her clean paw on something? How hard was I trying to ignore it?

Slam, slam, slam.  

And as driven as I was to protect Donut, it was such an overwhelming relief that the shackles of being a warlord were temporarily removed that a part of me wanted to just ease off the pedal. I thought of those folks from Meadowlark at the end of the first floor, all in the saferoom, singing. I thought of Signet falling into the Nothing. I thought of Tserendolgor at the end of the sixth floor, sitting with her friend.

Peace to you all, Justice Light had said. How? How?  

But then I thought of Katia, finally free. I remembered those who’d taken deals. Of that moment when they’d rained streamers and flowers on me and Donut, all of us pretending to ignore how much was at stake.

There was hope. There was escape. And if not, as Justice Light had shown, as all those who’d come to our aid on the previous floor had shown, there was also the possibility of vengeance.  

But first, we had to survive this goddamned tenth floor.

I mentally counted the opponents again.

The muscle car. The bear. The bug. The minivan. The dog. The tumbleweed.

I was missing one of them, and I didn’t know if they’d zoomed out ahead of the muscle car, or if they’d been like us and were still stuck in their garage when all this started.  

It was already pretty clear we weren’t going to be winning this heat. What had Zev said? First place got to pick three upgrades. Whoever won would immediately have an advantage. We certainly couldn’t afford to lose, but from the sounds of it, second-to-last place would be almost as bad. We couldn’t afford to let the viewers pick our upgrades, either. The viewers were all dicks.  

Something loomed up ahead, but still in the distance. Something dark. I glanced at the GPS again, and nothing had changed.

“Donut,” I asked.

“I see it,” she said, leaning forward on Mongo. “It’s the entrance to a cave. It’s very big. I see movement inside, but I’m not sure what.”  

And as I tried to see what she could see, a new message came in. One I instinctually read before I could push it away.

Prepotente: Carl, Donut, everyone else. I come with a warning. Obviously you do not want to come in last place. But do not, I repeat, do not kill or otherwise prevent any of your opponents from crossing the finish line. In fact, I suggest you help any wayward stragglers should one have already fallen.

Donut: HI PREPOTENTE! WHAT DID YOU PICK?

Prepotente: I went with the obvious choice, and I chose biological. One would have to be an imbecile to have picked mechanical.

I exchanged a sour look with Donut as I gave the other messages a quick glance. From what I gathered, Zhang—who was with Li Na—was the only other one who’d picked biological. Elle and Imani, who were together, had picked mechanical. Chris had been in Li Na’s party but had apparently left near the end of the previous floor and was solo had also picked mechanical along with another two crawlers, as had Louis, Britney, and Bautista, who were all together.

Florin hadn’t yet answered what his choice was, though it sounded like it was just him and Lucia Mar—who, as predicted, had not taken a deal—which likely meant Lucia had been the one to choose. I’d thought that Jurgen was also in their party, but he was somehow now paired up with Prepotente.

Carl: What happens if not everybody finishes the race?

Prepotente: While I don’t know for certain quite yet, I strongly believe that the pool of opponents for each heat is set in stone. That means if only one opponent falls during the current heat, then that will be fine. However, if two or more opponents fall during the heat, there won’t be enough for the next race. As a result they will have to mix and match with other groups that are missing a full heat.

I felt cold, and the moment he said it, I knew he was right.

For this first race, all seven of our opponents were NPCs.

Carl: Goddamnit. I think you’re right.

Prepotente: Quite. If you kill more than one opponent, then it’s possible the next heat will have an opponent team consisting of fellow crawlers. By the end, I fear there will be multiple crawler-versus-crawler races, possibly races where all the opponents are crawler teams.

Elle: Well that’s just fucking peachy.

Imani: We can avoid this if we keep all our opponents alive. Avoid killing those you’re racing against.

Zhang: Shit. Guys... Na already...

“Carl, watch out!” Donut called.

I looked up in time to see a wreck up ahead, just inside the mouth of the cave. The road let right into it. The minivan was on its side, flaming, blocking the road. A bugbear was crawling away from the wreckage as another one of the vehicles—the giant insect, which was a bus-sized beetle—squealed in pain as it was dragged off the road by the biggest manatee I’d ever seen. One of the riders of the bug ran away from the scene, screaming.

I couldn’t tell what manner of creature the bug rider was because the rider was on fire. But it didn’t matter because a second later, the house-sized manatee crunched down on the bug, killing it, and the on-fire creature had a notification appear over it for just a second before it exploded.      

“Fuck!” I cried as I slammed the brakes.

~~~

Hey everybody. We are now off to the races. I suspect none of this is going to go as we expect. I appreciate your patience. Operation: Bounce House is signed, sealed and delivered to Ace, and we are all aboard the book 8 train. How is Donut going to drive a food truck? What sort of vehicles does everyone else have? Do we trust the AI when it says everything is going to be normal for the 10th floor? What's up with that unicorn thing? Stay tuned to find out next time.

As I talked about last time, I am going on a very fast tour courtesy of PRH to support the hardcover releases coming up. Here are the dates and sign ups. Please note the Seattle, Vegas, Williamsburg, and NYC shows which aren't on the graphic. Also, this is just through May. I will be at Litrpg Con in July and Dragon Con in August and World Con in August. There's also a Columbus, Ohio event in July that's set in stone but I'm not allowed to announce for some reason and a very large con in San Diego every July I'm not supposed to announce yet because that one is NOT set in stone. Dragon Con is locked though.

(Again, look at the dates, read the notes. There are some dates not on the graphic)

3/6-3/9 - Seattle, WA: Emerald City Comic Con

https://www.emeraldcitycomiccon.com/en-us/guests/guest-profile.html?gtID=358739&guest-name=Matt-Dinniman

3/10 - Seattle, WA: University Book Store @ 6pm

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/pre-release-event-for-the-gate-of-the-feral-gods-dungeon-crawler-carl-tickets-1220115190379?aff=ebdsoporgprofile

3/28-30 Williamsburg, VA: AuthorCon V (Yes, I'll be there. I know I'm not on the website.)

https://scaresthatcare.org/authorcon-v

4/9 - New York, NY: Strand Bookstore @ 7pm

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/matt-dinniman-the-butchers-masquerade-tickets-1156269917449?aff=ebdsoporgprofile

4/27 Las Vegas, NV: Writer’s Block @ 7pm

https://thewritersblock.org/events/44732

5/13 - Portland, OR: Powell’s Books (Cedar Hills Crossing) @ 7pm

https://www.powells.com/book/the-eye-of-the-bedlam-bride-dungeon-crawler-carl-6-9780593956014/2-2

5/14 - Sacramento, CA: Barnes & Noble (Arden Fair) @ 6pm

https://stores.barnesandnoble.com/event/9780062182786-0

5/15 - San Diego, CA: Mysterious Galaxy @ 7pm

https://www.mystgalaxy.com/51525Dinniman

5/16 - Tempe, AZ: Changing Hands Bookstore @ 7pm

https://www.changinghands.com/event/may2025/matt-dinniman

5/17 - Dallas, TX: Half Price Books @ 7pm

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/talk-and-book-signing-with-bestselling-author-matt-dinniman-tickets-1230752516909?aff=oddtdtcreator

5/18 - Miami, FL: Books & Books @ 5pm

https://www.booksandbooks.com/event/an-afternoon-with-matt-dinniman-author-of-the-dungeon-crawler-series/

5/19 - Washington, D. C.: East City Bookshop @ 6pm (Virtual Q&A + Signing Line)

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/virtual-qa-in-store-signing-line-matt-dinniman-dungeon-crawler-carl-tickets-1246287783309?aff=authorlink

5/20 - Chicago, IL: Anderson’s Book @ 7pm

https://www.eventcombo.com/e/Author-Event-with-Matt-DinnimanThe-Eye-of-the-Bedlam-Bride-74490

5/21 - St. Louis, MO: The Novel Neighbor @ 7pm

https://mattdinniman.paperform.co/

5/31 - Bremerton, WA: Ballast Book Company @ 1pm

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/matt-dinniman-dungeon-crawler-carl-tickets-1232254699979?aff=oddtdtcreator