Chapter 75 (Patreon)

Chapter 75

The platform to traveler station #83 looked like any other subterranean subway station from before the collapse. It was a narrow, concrete platform with a small set of stairs leading up to a different area. The featureless, white-tiled walls gave off an early industrial vibe. A lone bench sat against the wall, and a faded thick yellow stripe was painted on the landing, warning travelers of the edge of the platform. 

By the time the train had eased to a stop, and the doors slid open, we still had multiple cars between us and the hordes of killer babies and hedgehog ogres. I feared they would pour out of the train, but Mordecai’s earlier assessment that the travel stations would be safe was correct. 

“Do you think the trains get more and more filled with monsters the further it goes?” Katia asked. “Surely they have to get off somewhere.” 

“That’s a good question,” I said, watching the train pull away. Drek glared at us through the windows. I flipped them off. “Go fuck yourselves, creepy babies.” 

Once the train was gone, I stepped forward to examine the track below. It looked like a regular subway path. It was a channel about five feet deep holding two regular rails. On the far end was the so called “third rail,” an electrified length of metal that provided power to the train. Normally these things had covers on them to keep people from getting electrocuted if they accidentally fell in, but there was no cover here. I didn’t know how much juice was running through the line. For all I knew the whole thing could be some ridiculous mana system. One never knew with this place. But the presence of what appeared to be ceramic insulators along the single, raised line suggested this was good ol’ DC electricity. Either way, I knew we needed to stay off the damn tracks.  

“Mongo,” I said to the dinosaur, who was poised to jump down there to go exploring. “Don’t. You’ll get zapped or squished. Probably both.” 

The pet grunted and turned away.  

My eyes caught a freestanding, rectangular sign in the center of the platform with some writing on it. I moved to examine it.

The sign simply read The Red Line. Trains approximately every 10-15 minutes and had a long, red squiggle. There was a single dot on the line, about 1/3 of the way from the bottom. It was labeled You are here. Station #83. 

I examined the sign more carefully, and I felt the haptic buzz of my Escape Plan skill activating. The map became alive. Additional words appeared. The remaining dots populated the line, starting at station 11 and ending at station 435. It appeared the trains only traveled one way, ascending up the line, which was kind of weird. If there was a second train that went from high to low, it wasn’t indicated here. The transit stations were now circled on the map. They were not at regular intervals, but there were quite a few of them. The next transit center after this would be station number 89, then station 97, then 101. In addition, every five stations had red squares over the dots, but it didn’t say what that meant. 

A box sat in the left corner of the map. It read Saferooms appear at all transfer stations. Stairwells appear at stations numbered 12, 24, 36, 48, and 72 on any colored line. I returned my gaze to the map, and none of the stairwell locations were located within transit stations. The map didn’t give any more details, nor did it give the names of the other lines at this station, though I knew from the announcement there was also a yellow line platform and a “Nightmare Express” platform somewhere around here. 

We’d emerged on the train just after station number 80, and we’d gotten off at 83. There didn’t appear to be a way to get to the lower-numbered stations with the stairwells. At least not directly. Also, I knew that there would be 9,375 stairwells hidden on this floor. If each line only had five stairwell locations, then how many damn lines were there? I hated doing math, but it sounded like this was going to be a mess.  

A timer counted down to the next train arrival, which would be in nine minutes.  

“Let’s go up the stairs. Find the saferoom,” I said.     

At the top of the short flight of stairs was a small, circular room. Two additional stairwells led down, one to the yellow line and the other to the Nightmare Express. There were three shops up here. A saferoom. A “Mace and bashing weapons guild.” And a small, general store called “Limp Richard’s Sundries.” The proprietor of the general store, Limp Richard, was a type of creature I’d never seen before. A Mole Man. He was a short, squat man that looked, well, like an anthropomorphized mole, complete with glasses. He sat in the open doorway to his shop reading a book. He looked up at our approach. 

Limp Richard – Mole Man. Level 36.  

This is a Non-Combatant NPC. 

Mole men and mole women actually just call themselves “Men” and “Women,” and quite frankly, it’s exhausting. These losers spend most of their days and nights reading. What a bunch of nerds. 

“Welcome to station 83,” Limp Richard said. He put his book down. “I have supplies for the weary travelers.” 

“We are weary. We’ll be by later, after we sleep,” I said, moving to the inn, which didn’t have a sign. 

“Suit yourself,” he said, settling back into his spot. 

“Hey, have you seen any other crawlers yet?” Katia asked. 

“You’re the first,” he said. 

We entered the inn, and upon opening the door, we discovered the saferooms had reverted to their previous style from the first two floors. This was a red and white themed fast food restaurant called Nirula’s. Behind the counter stood a shaggy, but female, Bopca Protector named “Wendita.” 

Mordecai appeared a moment later, having been transferred here from his quarters. 

“Holy shit,” I said, laughing. The last I’d seen Mordecai, he’d been a stunningly-handsome Incubus creature. He was now about five feet tall, and he’d been transformed into a mud-colored, warty, slimy toad-looking thing, complete with hanging jowls and a throat pouch under his wide face that looked as if it could fill with air. I examined his new properties. 

Mordecai – Grulke Infantry. Level 50. 

Manager of Crawler Princess Donut

This is a Non-Combatant NPC. 

The rare Grulke were a militaristic race of toad warriors. Able to leap great distances and inflict devastating attacks with their tongues, it was said an army of Grulke could stand against any foe. Unfortunately, political intrigue and infighting has turned this once-proud people into a race of mostly mercenaries and vagrants. They are hunted ruthlessly by the tunnel trolls, who like to capture and lick them. Not because they impart any sort of hallucinogenic effect. It’s just that tunnel trolls are weird-ass fuckers. 

“A frog, huh?” I said. 

Mordecai grunted. “Don’t ever call a real Grulke a frog if you meet one. They’re mean bastards. They’re toads.” 

“I need to tell you what happened with that last quest.” 

“Oh, I already know all about it. As a manager, I no longer get the daily updates or a newsletter, but I do receive notifications of court decisions adversely effecting my client. You guys got screwed, but at least you’re alive.” 

I moved to the counter and examined the familiar three screens. 

“Shit,” I said, looking at the player counter. We had 389,441 remaining crawlers. That was several hundred thousand dead since the last time I’d looked. 

“What happened?” I asked, horrified. 

“I only know what I saw on the recap episode. There were several group quest events just like yours happening across the Over City during the last couple of days. Usually the third floor is relatively easy. They generally try to have six or seven hundred thousand make it to the fourth floor. The factions aren’t going to be happy if the crawlers are culled too much by the time the sixth floor opens. It’s also usually 20 days, and you only have ten. Expect the AI to push back with better gear and higher awards, especially after that veto. The fact you’re level 27 and Donut is 26 is both lucky and a miracle. That’s better than I could’ve hoped for, even with a regular timer. We’ll need to keep it up, but we can’t rely on luck-based power leveling.”

“Luck-based anything is not my intention,” I said. But I’d barely heard what he’d said. I felt sick. Jesus, I thought. You gotta keep your head. I took a deep breath. 

The middle screen with the top ten list simply read, Leaderboard will populate at the end of the next recap episode.

I turned my attention to the final screen. 

Welcome to the Safe Room. You are on the Fourth Level. 

Rental Rooms currently available: 10

Rental Room price: 180 gold. 

Personal locations available for purchase. See proprietor for details. 

Food is available at this location. 

“How much gold do you guys have between the three of you?” Mordecai asked. 

“Just about four grand,” I said. “But we haven’t opened our boxes yet, and we have quite a few.” 

“Okay. Open your boxes and see how much you have,” Mordecai said. “Donut, do your thing. Just like we talked about earlier.” 

Donut cleared her throat and jumped to the counter. I knew she’d been looking forward to this. 

“This is a lovely establishment you have here,” she said to Wendita the Bopca. 

“Why thank you, your majesty,” the gnome said, perking up. “I’m just so excited to have royalty visit us. You don’t know what an honor it is.” 

“I’m sure,” Donut said in her most imperious voice. “So I understand you have personal locations available to sell at this establishment.” 

Wendita’s eyes got huge. “Yes, that’s right. Fifty thousand gold, and it’s yours.” 

Mordecai and I both winced. He’d warned us that the price might’ve gone up. He said it usually started at forty grand.

Donut yawned and looked at her paw as if that price was but a pittance. “I always find talking about coins to be a low activity.” She sighed dramatically. “Surely there must be a discount for royalty?” 

Wendita shook her head vigorously. “No ma’am. Your majesty, I mean. Personal spaces aren’t something we can negotiate on.” 

Donut leaned in. “Oh, Sweetie. Let me tell you a secret. Everything is negotiable.” 

Wendita swallowed. 

According to Mordecai, the price for a personal saferoom would be “fixed” in that the location managers would tell the Bopcas how much to sell them for. But the truth was there was usually about 25% wiggle room on the price. The system wouldn’t allow them to sell it for less than that. The proprietors were incentivized to sell the magical spaces with rewards, not money. The rewards being things such as earlier location selection for the next floor, a larger food budget, etcetera. So as far as the Bopcas were concerned, it didn’t matter how much they sold the spaces for. 

Unfortunately, the gnomes had a miserly streak to them, and it went against their better nature to discount anything, even if they weren’t the ones reaping the benefit. It was something I’d never understand. But Mordecai was convinced that Donut would be able to talk them down, and if she succeeded, she’d surely train up her negotiation skills. Apparently one received extra skill experience if they could talk a Bopca down. Even if we didn’t have enough money to purchase right now, this was an important skill to train as much as possible.

“I might be able to let it go for 45,000.” 

Donut scoffed. “I suppose we don’t really need a personal space today anyway.” She stood and turned her back to Wendita, showing her cat butt to the gnome. 

“Forty-four thousand?” Wendita said. 

“Is that a question?” Donut asked, looking over her shoulder.

I sighed and turned away from the negotiations. I had 24 stat points to distribute, but Mordecai had taught me to open my boxes and weigh any possible loot upgrades first. I had multiple boxes already, but I pulled up my unread achievements first to see if I had any more. I had ten achievements I hadn’t yet opened, most of them explosion-based. I was surprised to find a few interesting ones. 

New Achievement! They like me! They really like me! 

You are one of the first five crawlers to have achieved 500 trillion followers! People sure love a good train wreck. Wink.  

Reward: You have received a Platinum Fan Box! 

Note: Voting is now enabled on this box’s prize. Box will become available in 30 hours. 

New Achievement! The early bird gets to squirm! 

You went down a set of stairs more than six hours prior to the level’s collapse.   

Reward: Doing this is kind of like leaving a party much too early. It makes you look like a dick. No reward for you. 

****<Error> Reward and achievement removed by Syndicate Court Order. 

New Achievement! Cuck Aquaman! 

You got fucked by a fish. You’ve done something so spectacularly controversial, courts and lawyers had to get involved. The end result was *my* decision being overturned. 

Reward: You’ve received a Platinum It’s Not My Fault You Fish-Headed Assholes Don’t Properly Program Your Quests Box. 

“Uh, Mordecai?” I said. 

I described that last achievement using our chat feature. I’d recently discovered I could mentally copy items in my notifications and paste them into chat. 

He laughed out loud. His throat pouch inflated and dispersed air with glee. The sight was disconcerting. 

Mordecai: the AI is given the discretionary ability to award certain types of superfluous achievements and awards up to Platinum. Don’t think the system is getting soft on you. This is not too unusual. The AI running the game almost always obtains a bit of a personality and an attitude, especially near the end. When their decisions get countermanded by the court, it tends to break something in their virtual minds. They usually act out by doing something like this. But normally the veto comes much later in the game. I don’t know what sort of effect this is going to have. Just open the box, accept the prize, and don’t mention it again out loud. I’m sure Borant expected this when they issued that veto, and they won’t hold it against you. I just looked and Donut got the same prize. I’m guessing everyone who got shafted by the decision received it. 

We’d gotten robbed of a Celestial quest box, but Donut and I still had two silver quest boxes from the prostitute quest and from that Cockblock achievement. At the same time I had received a Platinum Tyrant’s Box plus a Bronze Assassin’s box, which I’d gotten for becoming the town’s new magistrate. Plus I had that Bronze Boss box from killing Quill and a mess of other loot packs, mostly bronze and silver adventurer’s boxes.  

Looking at the list, I no longer felt as if we’d been screwed over. Almost all of these prizes were a result of that quest. 

“I’m going in,” I said. The next table over, Katia was digging into her own loot. 

The adventurer’s boxes didn’t hold anything new or exciting. Potions, potions, bandages—which I never used, random clothing items and unenchanted weapons that we would sell. A couple hundred coins. 

The bronze assassin box contained a pair of Quiet Slippers, which I wouldn’t be able to wear plus a mess of antidote potions I didn’t need unless I wasn’t wearing my Nightgaunt Cloak. 

The boss box contained a magical tome for a spell called Bang Bro. I set it aside to read later. 

My two silver quest boxes each contained 1,000 gold coins and a group of scrolls. One contained three Confusing Fog scrolls, which I liked much better than just smoke bombs. The scrolls had saved us multiple times, but I’d been out of them for a while. The other contained three Heal scrolls, which were also useful in healing others without having to resort to pouring potions down their throats. 

I received some more sticks of dynamite from some random boxes before we got to the good stuff. 

The first, the Platinum Tyrant’s Box contained 10,000 gold and a necklace. The necklace was a simple, silver-colored band with a small, quarter-sized charm at the end. A tiny, yellow jewel was encrusted in the necklace. I quickly examined it before I moved to the next box. 

Enchanted Necklace of the Haute Bourgeoisie

The second smallest of the chains of leadership, it is still considered a great honor to be the custodian of this burden. Each jewel encrusted upon this charm represents a settlement owned and controlled by the bearer. If one still maintains a settlement’s jewel upon the collapse of the level, the holder of this necklace will permanently receive a tax stipend every ten days from that settlement based on size and population. In addition, each gem will impart additional benefits based on the town. 

In order to upgrade this necklace, one must first conquer a Large-sized Settlement. Upgraded necklaces will also upgrade all existing gems. 

One Attached Gem: 

Poor Sapphire. Medium Skyfowl Settlement (Third Floor). 

+5 to Dexterity.
+Talon Strike (Level 5)
Taxes received: 432 Gold every 10 days. 

May you be a kind and just leader. 

“Oh wow,” I said, putting it aside. “Cool.” I guessed that explained why the others didn’t recognize me as the town’s leader. I probably had to first put the necklace on. 

The AI’s special box opened next. It was just seven slips of paper. I laughed out loud at the prizes. 

Coupon for a free Personal Space, upgraded to level three. 

Coupon for a free tier 1 environmental upgrade. (x2) 

Coupon a free tier 1 crafting table. (x2)

Coupon for a table upgrade. (x2)

Over at the counter, Donut had talked Wendita down to 38,000 gold. The two continued to dance back and forth. I saw Katia had received the same coupons. She had one in her hand, her eyes glossy, which I recognized as her talking directly in chat, probably to Hekla. I nodded at Mordecai and slid the coupons over to show him.

“Holy wow,” he said. He had to sit down. He croaked with amusement. He also had an odd look of relief on his face. 

“So these are good?” 

Mordecai: This is a bigger fuck you to the showrunners than I thought the AI could pull off. Honestly, this is probably almost as good as a celestial upgrade. A level three space is expensive but allows for each crawler to have their own room complete with their own upgrades. And if you gather a new teammate who already has a space, you’ll be able to enjoin the rooms and combine the upgrades. It also allows me to bring my own room over. No more unexpected teleporting for me to saferooms.

Carl: How is this a fuck you to the boss people? 

Mordecai: All of those upgrades are really expensive, so in addition to the loss of income from the acquisitions—they get a small cut of all dungeon purchases—it’s a tradition for your sponsors to make you buy your own safe space but to then buy you some upgrades in your first loot box. By preempting the sponsors, the AI is giving you a leg up and is saving your future sponsors a lot of money. I mean a lot, thus freeing them up to give you better stuff. 

Carl: Katia got the same coupons. I’m thinking she’s going to save them for Hekla. 

Mordecai turned his head and regarded the woman thoughtfully. 

Mordecai: The environmental upgrades are no problem. She can install them now, and they’ll travel with her if she decides to leave. But I want those table upgrades. Those are invaluable. I’ll have to talk to her.  

“But Princess Donut, it’s the lowest I can go,” Wendita pleaded. “It won’t let me go below 37,500 gold. If we go lower than that, I will have to personally pay the difference myself.” 

“Well, how much do you have saved up?” Donut asked. The cat had a wild look to her eyes. “You’ll be free to visit any time you like.” 

“Wait, really?” Wendita asked. 

Carl: Donut. Don’t make her pay from her own pocket. It’ll make you look like an ass. Just settle on the price now to get your experience.

Donut: I can get her lower, Carl. I can do it. I can feel her wavering. It is delicious. 

Carl: There’s no need. Open your boxes and you’ll see why.   

Donut sighed dramatically. “Oh, we needn’t go lower than 37,500 gold, I suppose.” 

“Really?” Wendita said. “So it’s a deal?” 

“I’ll have to think on it,” Donut said. She jumped from the counter and moved to the table as the Bopca just stared at her incredulously. Donut started going through her achievements as I returned my attention to my loot. 

I put on the necklace, receiving the plus five to my dexterity. I tucked it in under my shirt. We didn’t wear dog tags in the Coast Guard, so I wasn’t used to having something around my neck. It felt heavy against my skin, heavier than it should. I examined Talon Strike, which ended up being a skill, not a spell. 

Talon Strike 

Birds have ugly feet. Disgusting feet, really. But there’s something sensual about the sight of a hawk swooping down upon its prey, talons out, and slashing. It’s so sudden, so unexpected, so explosively violent. 

Such violence. Sweet, sweet violence.  

Turns the side of your bare foot into a fast-moving slashing weapon, increasing the damage against opponents by up to (Level of skill) times your regular kicking damage for (Level of skill) seconds. Each kick using this skill has a 2% chance to cast the instakill spell Eviscerate. This melee skill has a cooldown of five minutes. Higher levels of this skill increase damage, duration, and chance of casting Eviscerate. A level 15 of this skill will result in Talon being permanently active.  

That was an excellent upgrade. Anything that could increase my damage was a welcome addition, especially if it didn’t cost anything to activate. I couldn’t wait to try it out.   

I picked up the spell tome. 

Bang Bro

Cost: 5 Mana
Target: Temporarily Enchant Equipped Item
Duration: 5 minutes + 1 minute per level of spell. Requires 5-minute cooldown. 

Adds both fire and electrical damage to any currently-equipped item. May not be cast on flesh. Well, actually it can be cast on (your own) flesh, but I really wouldn’t recommend it. May inflict Burn and Shock on targets. 

Can also be used to cook hotdogs and other items. 

I called Mordecai over, who was helping Donut with her items. I showed him the book. 

“Will this work on my gauntlet?” 

“Yeah,” he said. “Definitely. I wouldn’t try it on your xistera, not with the way you load it. You could probably do it to your foot, also, as long as your invulnerable buff is active. But I would probably avoid doing that. It’s a good spell, and it’s in your mana price range.” 

I nodded and read the tome, adding the spell to my list. I would have to add a few points to my intelligence. Between that, Heal, and my Wisp Armor, I now had a few mana-costing spells.  

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I love it! I love it so much!” Donut cried. “This plus a fan box? I can’t wait!”

She’d gotten the same coupons as me which meant all of us who won that quest probably got the same thing. She’d also received the fan box. But other than that, she hadn’t gotten as many boxes as I had. Most notably, she hadn’t received the Tyrant box nor the Assassin box. But she did have the boss box and the quest boxes. It looked as if she’d received a bunch of random scrolls and some useless items we’d have to sell, But in one of those, I wasn’t sure which, she’d also received a new tiara. 

It poofed onto her head. It looked similar to her last one. The jewels on this one were white instead of purple. I quickly examined it. It wasn’t as good as the one she’d lost, but it did come with some good benefits. 

Enchanted Tiara of Mana Genita

A crystal tiara fit for royalty. Made in honor of all the lost children of the world. Because nothing helps sooth the tears of grieving parents like watching someone else dress up all fancy. 

+3 Intelligence

Increased ability to detect mobs on the map. 

Removes automatic hostility by worshippers of Mana Genita.  

“Who’s Mana Genita?” I asked. 

“She’s a goddess,” Mordecai said. “A pretty obscure one. I don’t think I’ve ever run across her. She was big on spells, I think. I don’t remember. There’s thousands of them. Gods, I mean. Only a few are dungeon regulars. Most of them never leave the 12th floor.” 

I remembered what Odette had said. He has a lot of experience in the subject, unfortunately. 

“Yeah, I’m supposed to ask you about gods,” I said. 

“That can wait. It’s a long conversation. We need to get our space set up. And then sleep. So distribute your points.”   

“Wait, that reminds me,” Donut said, jumping from the table. She rushed to the corner of the restaurant. Standing there, hidden in the shadows was a mailbox. I’d forgotten about that. She had a spellbook coming to her. She leaped to the top of the box and opened it up. A moment later, she grunted with annoyance. 

“When am I going to get a good spell?” she asked. “The flames from Magic Missile aren’t doing it for me anymore. I want something with some kick. Like Fireball.” 

The idea of Donut shooting fireballs was terrifying.  

The cat scrunched up her face. “What do you think, Mordecai? Should I read it? Or maybe we can sell it?” 

“Read it,” he said. 

She glowed. 

“What was it?” I asked. Normally, she’d apply the book without even reading the description first. I was moderately impressed that she’d first asked Mordecai’s opinion. But thinking on it, I was starting to suspect she was getting addicted to the idea of selling things more than actually using them.  

“It’s a spell called Hole,” Mordecai said. “It does exactly what it sounds like. It makes a temporary hole on a surface of her choosing. She’ll need to level it up before it’s too helpful, as a level one isn’t thick enough to get through most doors, but it’s a useful spell. Especially if you’re creative with it.” 

That actually sounded pretty awesome. I could already think of a half dozen uses for it. Tomorrow we would have to go out and experiment. I turned to Katia.

“What about you? Did you get anything good?” 

She nodded, lifting her left arm. There was nothing there except the arm of her blue tracksuit. Any equipped gear would be invisible on her, but it would increase her mass. 

“It’s an arm bracer that I can turn into a shield,” she said. “Check it out.” 

She flicked her wrist, and her arm changed shape, forming into what looked like a buckler-sized glob of blue polyester. 

“That’s really weird,” I said. 

“Yeah, the shield is supposed to be metal, I think, but when I activate it, it just looks like the surrounding area.” She reached down and rapped on the shield with her knuckles, and it gave a metallic ring. “If I practice, I might be able to make it look like anything. Mordecai says I can change its shape too.” 

Mordecai leaned forward to examine the round protuberance on her arm. “That shield has a Shatter enchantment. Use it in conjunction with your Rush ability.” 

The shield disappeared, and her arm reshaped itself.

“You can be like that liquid metal Terminator guy,” Donut said. “That’d be really cool.” 

“I never saw that movie,” replied Katia. “I don’t like violence.”

“You’re in the wrong job then, honey.”

“Wait,” I said. “I guess I hadn’t really realized what exactly you can do with that race. So if you’re wearing a helmet that’s made out of metal, and you reshape yourself to look like a normal human wearing a bikini, you’ll be able to make any part of your body metal?” 

Mordecai answered. “That’s right. If she’s 90% flesh and 10% metal, she can make herself to look like a regular, unarmored human, but what you perceive as her bikini, or her feet, or her hands, can really be the material from the helmet. As long as it’s 10%, and it’s continuous. You can’t break up the item. Also, there’s some elasticity issues with certain enchanted materials, plus certain limits still exist, like she’s not allowed to grow four arms so she can wear forty rings, but you get the idea.” 

“Well, shit. We need to get as much armor on you as possible.” 

“That’s the plan,” Mordecai said. “And she’s going to train up her strength a bit, too.”  

I distributed my 24 stat points. I put 10 in strength, nine in constitution, and five in intelligence. I knew I needed to add some to dexterity next, but since this floor was going to presumably focus more on close-quarters fighting, plus the boost I’d already received from the necklace, I decided to bolster my main stats. So after I was done, I ended up with: 

Strength: 41 +3 (When Gauntlet Formed)
Intelligence: 15
Constitution: 34
Dexterity: 23
Charisma: 25

“A strength over 40 is good for the fourth floor,” Mordecai said when I showed him my updated stats. “It’s not anything to write home about, but you’ve already made up the ground you lost when you picked the Primal race. We still have a lot of work to do. We need to get your unenhanced strength to 100 as soon as we can. In a few levels, Donut is going to hit 100 in Charisma, and that’s going to change a lot of things. She’s at 94 now.”

“Oh I can’t wait.” I said. 

“In the meantime,” Mordecai said, turning to Donut, “There’s one last thing to do before you three can get to sleep. Get your coupons out.”

~

“Katia, you too,” Mordecai said. “Take out all your coupons.” 

“Actually, guys, I’m really sorry,” Katia said. “I was talking to Hekla, and I kind of promised her I would…” 

Mordecai waved his hand. “Yes, yes. We’ve already figured that out. Don’t worry. You can cash in the coupons now, and you won’t lose them. The personal space and the environmental upgrades will travel with you, so you might as well use them now. The same with the tables you’re going to buy. The tables upgrade on their own every time you go down a floor, so it’s important to do it now. You can save the two table upgrade coupons. If you leave and rejoin another party, everything you’re about to do will travel with you.”  

“Okay,” she said after a moment. 

Donut returned to the counter with Wendita, who was sitting there looking very sullen. 

“So I’ve thought about it, Wendita, dear,” Donut said. “I’ve decided we are going to buy a space, but we’re going to use this instead.” 

She dropped the coupon on the counter. 

“What is this?” The Bopca’s eyes grew huge as she examined the paper. Her hands started to tremble. “A level three space?” 

“Does she still get her bonus if we use a coupon?” I whispered. 

“Oh yeah,” Mordecai said. “She also gets rewards for each upgrade she sells. We are about to make her year.” 

I still had my own coupon for a level-3 personal space. “What should I do with mine?” I asked.

“Something very cool,” he said. “Follow.” He stepped—hopped, actually—up to the counter. 

“Wendita,” he said. “Both Carl and Katia here also have coupons for a level-3 personal space that they’d like to turn in. How much is the joining fee? For all three.” 

Wendita looked up at Mordecai as if he’d just told her that she’d been elected the new president of the universe. If the little gnome’s eyes got any bigger, I feared they would pop out of her head and roll onto the counter. 

“It’s 10 thousand,” she finally said. “Five thousand for each union, but it would only require two of them.” 

“We got that now,” he said. He turned to me. “Right?” 

I nodded. 

Mordecai slapped his webbed hands together. It made a sticky splotch noise. “Okay. So here’s what we’re doing. Make sure you get all this down. We are turning in all three of these level-threes, and then we are going to enjoin them. What will that make?” 

“Uh, it looks like it’ll be a level-five.” 

Mordecai grumbled as I exchanged a look with Donut. 

He looked over his shoulder at me. “All that means is that when you guys combine your spaces, all of them together will give the benefits of a level-five space. If Katia leaves the party, she’ll withdraw her space from the collective, and it’ll go down to a…” He looked at Wendita.

“A four.” 

“A level-four space, which is still pretty good.” 

“Okay, you three, hand me all your coupons. Don’t mix them up. The system needs to know who is buying what. Wendita. Pull up the upgrade menu, and show me the available tier one environmental upgrades.” 

The Bopka, still in a daze, waved her hand. A menu appeared floating in front of us. 

Welcome to the Upgrade Clearing House. 

The following tier-one upgrades are available. Drill down for more details.  

Bathroom Upgrades.

Bed Upgrades. 

Crafting Upgrades.  

Kitchen Upgrades. 

Kennel and Stable Upgrades

Magic Upgrades. (Empty) 

Quest and Social Upgrades.

Store Access. (Empty)  

Training Upgrades. 

“What is this,” Mordecai said. Before I barely had the chance to read the menu, he reached forward with his hand and clicked on Quest and Social Upgrades. 

“This is all new since the last time I’d had to deal with a personal space,” he mumbled. “They never really kept us apprised on this stuff since game guides don’t usually deal with anything past the third floor.” 

A new menu appeared. 

Social Upgrades: 

*Social Screen. Gives detailed, AI-curated running list of comments from your social stream. Allows for better interaction with fans. 50,000 Gold. 

Quest Upgrades: 

*Quest Screen. Gives detailed list of available quests in your current area. 90,000 Gold. 

*Adventurer’s, Inc. Employment Agency. Allows access to the general dungeon jobs-for-hire board. 100,000 Gold. 

*<Special> Naughty Boys Employment Agency. Allows for specialized quests with specialized rewards. Invite-only. 500,000 Gold. 

“Hmm, I was wondering what that was before. Your class gives you access to that Naughty Boys agency. I’ve never seen anything like this. They are always changing this stuff and not telling us.”

“Are these coupons good for any of these upgrades? Even though they have different values?” I asked. It’d be stupid to waste them on something that cost 50,000 when there were items that cost literally ten times as much.  

“Ahh, no,” Wendita said. “If you read the fine print on the coupons, it says maximum value of 250,000 gold each and two may not be combined for a single item. So if you want that last one, you’ll have to pay another 250,000 gold.” 

“Damn,” I said. 

“We’re avoiding quests this floor anyway,” Mordecai said. “Let’s find some upgrades that’ll be useful right away.”  

Mordecai went back and clicked on Bed Upgrades. 

A long list of available types of beds populated the list. It started with a single-sized cot, and it got better from there. 

The very last item was Ultra-Stabilized, Size-adjustable, race-adjustable alleviating sleep apparatus. Allows for full rest after a period of only two hours of sleep. Imparts 30 hours of Good Rest bonus. 250,000 Gold. 

Mordecai slid one of Donut’s coupons forward. “We’ll take the Ultra-Stabilized bed.” 

“Will we all get that?” Katia asked. 

“Yes. As long as the rooms are enjoined, you all share in your upgrades.”

“So we only have to sleep for two hours now?” I asked. I was both fascinated and horrified at the idea. 

“That’s right. And that’s not even the best bed you can get. Once you hit the sixth floor, the tier two upgrades become available. I think the top available bed allows you to press a button, and you’re fully rested. The Good Rest bonus adds 10% to all of your stats and allows for 10% higher experience and skill training.” 

“Well, shit,” I said. “I hadn’t realized we would be getting upgrades like this.” 

“It gets better,” he said.   

“Click bathroom upgrades,” Donut said excitedly. “We need to get the cleaning thing like they had in that production trailer.” 

In the end, we ended up with the bed, an automatic shower that wasn’t quite as nice as the one we’d seen on the surface, and a 255,000 gold Enhanced Crafting Studio that Mordecai insisted was necessary for all sorts of reasons. The shower added another 10% bonus to our stats and lowered our “Detectability,” which meant we could sneak around better. He made me save my last coupon for the store which would supposedly become available sometime in the next few days. Katia also spent only one of her coupons on a Training Room, which would allow us to train for one hour a day on any specific non-magical-spell skill we wanted. Supposedly it would train the skill as if we were really fighting with it. The room also cost 250,000 gold. I wouldn’t be able to train anything explosives based, but Mordecai said tier-two would have something called a Bomber’s Studio which would allow me to practice blowing shit up.

There were multiple available upgrades I still wanted to get. The kitchen upgrades were expensive, but they offered up food that imparted varying degrees of buffs. The kennel upgrades did the same but for Mongo. The magical upgrades would become available later, according to Mordecai, and would offer a place to train magical spells and allow the purchase of magic-enhancing items. He said that was something else that would be a necessary purchase.     

“There’s a ton of new types of craft tables. Let’s hold off for now while I study the list,” Mordecai said. “In the meantime, let’s open up the room and get some sleep.” 

In the end, we had to pay 15,000 gold, which once again depleted much of our newly-acquired wealth. We slid the coupons and gold over to Wendita who had tears streaming down her face as she accepted them.

“You bless me, your majesty,” she said. “I knew when you talked me into paying my own money it was nothing but a test. A real princess would never do such a thing.” 

New achievement! Welcome to the neighborhood!

You have bought a home! It’s every man’s dream to some day own a place where he can fap in peace. No more filthy roommates not doing the dishes or making up excuses as to why they can’t pay the rent. No more landlord who shows up without notice and hides hidden cameras in the smoke detectors. It’s all smooth sailing from now on. 

Reward: You’re a homeowner now. That is the reward. That and taxes and having to deal with Kenneth the megalomaniac HOA president.

Every saferoom we’d been in always had a blank doorway locked into the wall and a space on the map for an inaccessible room. The moment the achievement faded away, that doorway opened up, and a small, closet-sized room appeared on the map. It was labeled Enjoined Personal Space of Team The Royal Court of Princess Donut. As I watched, the name blinked and changed to The Royal Palace of Princess Donut. 

“It lets me change the name,” Donut said excitedly as she walked toward the doorway. “Come on, Mongo. Let’s go see our new house.”   

***

Whew. These types of chapters are a bit exhausting to write. They're not as action-packed as the others, but they're important to the story's foundation and take a lot of behind-the-scenes planning and note-keeping. When I wrote Kaiju: Battlefield Surgeon, I ended up with an excel document with over 70 tabs by the time I was done, all designed to keep track of everything.  I'm not quite there yet with this story, but we'll get there soon. It was a bit of a mess, and I need to come up with something more formal and organized.

I am working on a character list (From Agatha to Zhang) and a mob list that I will eventually publish for everyone to reference. As this goes on, it becomes easy to forget who did what and when and why and where. I've never actually made or programed a wiki before, but I'm now accepting that it's necessary.