Tokens and Towers, Vol. 1
Author: Harmon Cooper
Date: 2022-03-24 07:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy
Description: A tower with seven distinct realms. A barbarian and a sorcerer. The chance of sudden death at every turn. Randy Lionheart never thought he'd be portaled to a fantasy world and told to climb a tower. For most of his adult life, he wrote about these things as a fantasy writer. Yet as he chooses an axe as his primary weapon, and he is told to start slaying killer gnomes, Randy realizes that things are about to change for better or worse. Randy isn't going to be able to reach the top of the tower alone. He'll need cunning, luck, and a friend to help him along the way. Enter Clovis, a human who was
Publisher: Boycott Books, LLC

Tokens
and

Towers

(Volume One)

By Harmon Cooper

Copyright © 2022 Harmon Cooper

Copyright © 2022 Boycott Books

Art by Richard Sashigane

Font by Shawn King

Audiobook narrated by Daniel Wisniewski and Rebecca Woods

www.harmoncooper.com
writer.harmoncooper@gmail.com

Twitter: @_HarmonCooper
Harmon Cooper’s Patreon

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Prologue/Fictional Author Foreword

Chapter One: The Gnomes Must Die

Chapter Two: Axl Rose - A Perfect Name for a Perfect Axe

Chapter Three: The Chapter in Which I Discover I Am Now A Crypto Millionaire

Chapter Four: Just My Luck

Chapter Five: Clovis the Spellbook and the Mad Lad Fight a Hangry Kobold

Chapter Six: Loot or Die, There is No Try (Clovis Gets a Mustache)

Chapter Seven: Revenge of the Gnomes

Chapter Eight: Almost Bludgeoned in a Dungeon

Chapter Nine: Open Mic Night at the Ogreview Cafe and Grill

Chapter Ten: Skill Points and an Ogric Beatdown of Enematic Proportions

Chapter Eleven: We’re a Guild, Baby!

Chapter Twelve: Clovis and the Mad Lad Get Their Asses Kicked by Hemotropic Butterflies

Chapter Thirteen: The Chapter in Which We Battle the Giant Ogre

Chapter Fourteen: Flashback to Viagra Falls

Chapter Fifteen: A Snooze and a Revelation on the First Floor

Chapter Sixteen: Deathmatch

Chapter Seventeen: I Should Be Dead Right Now (But I’m Not)

Chapter Eighteen: Fighting Meerkats in the Endless Desert

Chapter Nineteen: Dung Beetles and Scorpions - Time For Some Pest Control!

Chapter Twenty: Pyramid and Rune

Chapter Twenty-One: Mamas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Ascendants

Chapter Twenty-Two: Hamsterdam Is One Hell of A Place

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Hamfather; or, Why Clovis and I Shouldn’t Take Quests from the Hamster Mafia

Chapter Twenty-Four: I’m Not Even Going to Try to Describe What Happens in This Chapter

Chapter Twenty-Five: Hop, the Teenage Drug-Dealing Hamster

Chapter Twenty-Six: One Act Slay

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Shop ‘Til We Drop

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Fighting Murder Hornets Isn’t What it Used to Be

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Burning Books with Vampires

Chapter Thirty: Capture the Swag

Chapter Thirty-One: Against All Odds

Chapter Thirty-Two: Barbarian with A Heart of Gold

Chapter Thirty-Three: Angel Farts, Wolf Tamer

Chapter Thirty-Four: Keep on Grinding in the Free World

Chapter Thirty-Five: Fortress of Dwarves

Back of the Book

Prologue/Fictional Author Foreword

This story might not be for everyone, but if you’ve made it this far, it’s probably for you.

Too soon? I’ve been saving that intro line forever, and now I’m feeling like I botched the opening line already, which is generally considered the most important sentence in a book.

In that case, I’ll just get straight to the point.

My name is Randy Lionheart and I’m a fantasy writer. With that in mind, I promise that you will be thoroughly entertained by the crazy story to follow, a story which would be way less crazy if it weren’t for the fact it actually happened to me, and is still happening to me (I’m still trapped in this fantasy world known as Genera as we speak).

If you’ve never read a LitRPG before, strap in. If you have, sit back, enjoy the ride.

Congratulations, you will laugh your ass off!

At me.

That’s right, I’m the guy who fell asleep (or maybe died) in a sensory deprivation tank and woke up in a world populated by all sorts of chicanerous creatures, from rogue halflings to an assortment of elves, sketchy wizards, treacherous gnomes, and ravenous trolls; the same fantasy writer who also spent his last book advance on crypto, leaving me completely broke.

But more on that second part later…

For some reason, you’re still here and wondering when this story is actually going to start, and what this Mad Lad of a writer (aka me) has in store for you.

We’re almost there, reader, but before we kick this one into high gear, before we portal to another world and start the tutorial so we can reach the tower and get working on those floors, I need to clear up a few more things:

THERE WILL BE CURSING.

But there won’t be sex.

And there will be pop culture references galore that are totally going to date this story. I am also forced to seduce a dungeon core at one point in the first act; take quests in a floor populated by bipedal hamsters known as Hamsterdam; and fight everything from raging murder hornets to Japanese goblins, among other wacky situations. So expect violence and shenanigans.

I swear to you that as soon as chapter one starts, this story will kick into super high gear with a metric crapton of action, batty challenges, a smattering of stats, unhinged tournaments, fun characters, and clever enough banter as I slay my way toward the tower.

Because that’s what Tokens and Towers is all about, and I wouldn’t have it any other way even if it is indulgent.

It’s safe to say that I’m just as excited as you are to kick this one off, dear reader, itching to grab the nearest weapon and start grinding and looting like my life depends on it while dealing with a powerful yet misguided flying spellbook named Clovis.

Congrats to both of us!

We, you and I, are about to embark on an epic journey, the epic-est of journeys, one that has never been told before. With that in mind, I’m going to exit stage left and let this story shine before you figure out a better way to spend your time.

My name is Randy Lionheart.

Let’s get wild.

Chapter One: The Gnomes Must Die

—Steps to Using the Float System—

1.) Once you have taken off all of your clothing, put your earplugs in and shower to remove any excess oils in your skin. Do not use the conditioner (don’t worry, you can condition afterwards) but do use the shampoo and bodywash, all of which are hypoallergenic.

2.) Enter the float tank. Controls for the music volume and the light are on your left. You may close the door to the tank or keep it open. The outer lights will turn off automatically.

3.) Your session will begin. Just float. Concentrate on your breath as you do so.

4.) After ninety minutes, the float system will tell you that your session has ended.

5.) Once your session has ended, carefully get out of the float tank and take another shower. Your skin will feel soft from the Epsom salt. You may now use conditioner.

6.) After you have toweled off and dressed, please—

I stopped reading the instructions at this point. I got the gist, and had already watched the instructional video the wellness center had emailed me.

Coming here was supposed to be my Hail Mary. A friend of mine had let me use his gift card with several ‘floats’ on it, which was what this place called being suspended in a sensory deprivation tank for ninety minutes for restorative purposes and to enhance creativity. This was supposed to be an experience that would spark something for me. Yet here I was, naked as the day I was born, showering in a bathroom a thousand times nicer than any bathroom I’d ever had, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how they had rechristened the sensory deprivation tank to ‘float tank.’

That was probably the fantasy writer in me thinking.

I guess ‘float tank’ does sound a bit nicer, but I think I’ll call you Tanky the Tank…

I turned off the shower, and as water dripped from my skin, I finally opened the hatch. It truly was a hatch, to the point that it almost resembled a cremation oven, the inner surfaces of the tank smooth, white, and oh-so-plastic. The interior of the tank was about eight feet across, and five feet high. As soon as I was in, an indigo light flicked on and a light soundtrack started up, the music somewhere between ambient piano and white noise.

“Weird…”

I lowered into the ninety-four-degree water that was standing at about ten inches high, the bottom surface of the tank quite slick.

You’ve got this. You need this, I reminded myself as I relaxed onto my back, the water laced with Epsom salt aiding in my buoyancy.

Reaching my hand over my head allowed me to close the hatch door behind me, a tinge of claustrophobia coming to me as I tried to adjust to my little wellness oasis. I tried to get comfortable as the music carried through the water and into my plugged ears.

You’re not going to die in here. Tanky the Tank isn’t going to kill you…

Once I was nice and floaty, I pressed my thumb against a button that turned off the light.

My heart jumped at the sudden darkness. I actively stopped myself from turning the light back on. I needed this. I needed to be alone with my thoughts, to work through some shit.

The hint of fear slowly filtered away.

Soon, I was floating comfortably, relaxing even further into the water once it was clear I couldn’t drown.

Just float…

I was here, everything was in its right place, and I would come out of this float session with an idea that would rebuild my literary career.

At least that was the plan…

****

<Welcome, Randall Lionheart. Choose a species. Once you have chosen a species, you may proceed to kill the gnomes.>

What? I thought, coming out of my meditative, float tank reverie. Did someone just speak to me? And was she British?

<Welcome, Randall Lionheart. Choose a species. Once you have chosen a species, you may proceed to kill the gnomes.>

Why am I hearing voices? And what is this about gnomes? Focus, Randy…

I was in this float tank for a reason. I needed a novel idea, something that would keep the royalties coming in and the fantasy writing ship afloat until I stumbled across my next concept, or at least until the crypto I had dumped my savings into would moon, making me rich enough to afford a one-way ticket to outer space.

I quieted my breath yet again, waiting for my muse to finally appear, that clever beauty who had most graciously blessed me with The Mana in the White Castle, War Beast, Mage of Rage, and Kung Fu Fable, my bestselling cultivation series with gaming elements. It was the same dastardly muse who had also shat the bed with my experimental Oh, Great, I Fell in Love with a Demon Mimic and Now I’m Going to Hell to Become a Dungeoncore Farmer, which was some cringe-worthy GameLit erotica I wrote under my pen name Angel Farts that had sold all of seven ebook copies (and one was returned, but I still count it as seven).

Come on, Randy, think…

Forget about your pen name… forget about Angel Farts…

But thinking about thinking had a way of making me feel like I was overthinking. In that case...

Focus on your breath…

Come on, man, focus!

<Welcome, Randall Lionheart. Choose a species. Once you have chosen a species, you may proceed to kill the gnomes.>

There it was again, my thoughts interrupted by a British lady, a voice I couldn’t quite place.

It should have been easy to blink my eyes open, find the light switch in the float tank, and climb out. After all, I wasn’t suspended in that much water, and the support staff had told me what to do if I started to feel claustrophobic. There was even an intercom system. Yet I brazenly resisted the urge, wondering if this woman was indeed my muse, that she had finally come to me in a dream state and had decided to take a British voice just to shake things up a bit.

< Welcome, Randall Lionheart...>

“—Please, call me Randy, the noun not the adjective…” I told her, which was my go-to introduction that I found funny but usually didn’t get the laugh I wanted.

<Choose a species.>

“Is this a loaded question?” I asked aloud.

There was an echo to my voice now, darkness still enveloping me.

<Choose a species.>

“Sure, um, human,” I said, just ready to get on with it. “Is that what you wanted me to say?”

<Species confirmed. You are now Randy Lionheart, a human. You cannot change your race selection at this time. You may proceed to kill the gnomes.>

Wait… what?

Vortex, vacuum, spiraling down the drain, being uploaded, watching the movie Frozen on shrooms, what it must feel like to be lubed up and sucked through a giant straw, Havana syndrome, taking both the red and blue pill at the same time, being waterboarded—all would describe what happened next as I was portaled to another world, my senses on fire and my head spinning.

Suddenly, I was no longer in a darkened float tank alone with my thoughts. I was now in a forest straight out of Narnia, crisp, pine needles beneath my feet, a slight breeze and a bit of birdsong in the air.

Even worse, I wasn’t alone.

A group of what I would describe as ‘tough guy gnomes’ stood across from me, most of the pint-sized bruisers muscled up and wearing dark, skintight leather and tunics, oozing aggression, some with oiled forearms and biceps.

I thought of the old cartoon Hargrim the Gnome, and how nice those gnomes had been in that show. Surely this troupe would be friendly. Surely they would help a bewildered guy who had magically appeared before them.

After all, they weren’t goblins…

“Fellas,” I said, showing them my hands. “Fellas…”

This has to be a dream… I thought as the lead gnome hawked a giant loogie in my direction, one that was yellow enough to lead me to believe that he might actually have an underlying medical condition.

I tried to will myself awake and failed.

“Fellas…”

They all took a collective step closer to me. If this was a nightmare, one that involved a murder of gnomes, I damn sure wasn’t going to let these short little bastards treat me like a communal Fleshlight, not after all the bullshit I’d been through recently.

For once in my life, it was time to kick some serious ass.

It was time to introduce these shifty gnomes to the Mad Lad.

Chapter Two: Axl Rose - A Perfect Name for a Perfect Axe

A glint of something caught my eye. I went for it, the axe easily coming loose from the nearest tree trunk.

<Congratulations, Randy. You have selected an axe as your primary weapon.>

The British lady’s voice startled me once again, but the mention of a primary weapon also caused me to take a quick look around, where I saw that there were other weapon options, from a sword to a spear, even a gnarly-looking dominatrix whip, all within reaching distance. There was even a spellbook…

<Congratulations, Randy. You are now mildly proficient with an axe. Kill the gnomes to gain your first level.>

“Come again?” I asked aloud, wanting to confirm the inevitable.

<You are now mildly proficient with an axe. Kill the gnomes to gain your first level.>

Is this… is this some kind of game tutorial?

Goddamn if I didn’t want to slam my thumb on an invisible ‘pause’ button and try to get my bearings. If this was a dream, and in my dream there were game elements, then that was utterly the most badass dream I could have asked for because, as it turned out…

Wait for it…

Wait…

For…

It…

You guessed it, I was (and still am!) a LitRPG writer.

Not only that, I was an avid gamer, and had read enough reader comments across the internet and through book reviews to hear just about every opinion there was on what the reader would do if they were portaled into a game world. Stats, buffs, debuffs, just get buff, min-max, farming XP, grow a dick, grow some tits, farm some shit (I still have yet to figure out why that’s part of the genre), no stupid main character, no Debbie Downers, no Mary Sues, if you’re a mimic don’t be too gropey, keep politics out of it—all were things I was versed in.

This was literally my element, and I intended to act on the directions.

<Kill the gnomes to gain your first level.>

“Things are about to get really fucked up around here, fellas. I’m warning you…”

I returned my gaze to the gnomes, truly understanding in that moment what it felt like to glare someone down with murderous intent. The Mad Lad was a nickname I’d sort of given myself, and by sort of I mean that it was the name I referred to myself as when my darker side came out.

Sometimes it was necessary to let the Mad Lad out of his cage.

As much as I didn’t want to, I was about to get medieval on these gnomes.

The first cone-hatted fucker started to growl, which threw me for a momentary loop.

“You came to the wrong forest, asshole!”

The high-pitched, nuts-squeezed-between-his-legs voice that came out of his mouth almost had me barreled over in laughter.

I suddenly noticed something behind the gnomes. It was as if the trees pressed away behind him, a tower emerging from the landscape like an erection, the morningest of woods, the tower vibrant and sparkling and clearly a place a down-on-his-luck-but-pretty-good-dude writer like myself would rather be than a forest with a bunch of dickheaded gnomes.

“You aren’t going anywhere!” the lead gnome roared in his high-pitched voice as he took off in my direction.

Whack!

It was instinctual. The tip of my axe met the side of his head. Axe meet gnome, gnome meet the fucking ground!

I thought my initial response to doming the gnome (also potential slang for a sex act, I don’t know, let’s workshop it) would leave me feeling remorseful, or sick to my stomach, the bit cracking into the side of his skull, his stupid red cone hat flying the opposite direction, blood trailing in the air as I brought the axe back to the ready.

But I felt nothing in my actions.

I’d been waiting all my entire life to take down an asshole the old-fashioned way. If this was what being portaled to a fantasy world was going to be like, I was game. I was so game!

The other gnomes started to back away.

“That’s right,” I said, feeling more manly than I’d felt in ages. “Unless you all want to end up like your shit-for-brains leader here…”

The pain was sudden.

I couldn’t recall the last time I had been bitten—perhaps by my ex-wife, Chelsea, who liked to nibble on my ears to some extent, at least when she cosplayed—but my God, MY GOD, did it hurt.

Sure enough, the gnome I had lobotomized had come back to life, the left side of his face practically carved out yet the bastard still had the wherewithal to take a serious bite out of my calf, which was something that could have possibly been prevented had I been wearing pants.

Did I mention I was naked?

Talk about burying the lede!

The instructions said to undress before I got into the float tank, meaning that yes, I was in a forest fighting a gaggle of contentious gnomes in my birthday suit.

<Kill the gnomes to gain your first level.>

“Gladly!” I said as I brought my axe down onto the ankle-biting gnome’s head again. This time I made sure he was dead, and not a moment too soon.

An onslaught of gnomentry descended upon me, five, six, seven, I lost count of the pointy red hats as they all came charging at me at once like a pack of piranhas.

I tried to sweep them away with my axe, but this only seemed to piss them off even further, the little bastards going for my legs, and eventually bringing me to the ground and scrambling on top of me. They smelled like piss mixed with a clinical case of halitosis, the fetid gnomes scrambling over me with their grubby little paws as they began delivering punches and scratches.

I managed to kick some of them off, the British lady’s voice coming to me again.

<Kill the gnomes to gain your first level.>

“Goddammit, lady, I’m trying!”

What the hell kind of system prompt is this? Why am I fighting gnomes? Gnomes are supposed to be good!

I avoided one of the fatter gnomes, the dumbass heading straight into a tree. I swiveled, and brought my axe down against his back, the sickening sound of his spine snapping from the weight of my weapon barely noticeable in the barrage of gnomey grunts as the others tried to corner me.

I was in the zone now, bashing gnomes, wild-eyed, Mad Lad, whipped up to the point that my top knot had come loose, brown and gray hair dancing around my shoulders as I gleefully fought them back.

My ears perked up when another called for their leader in an even higher-pitched voice: “Somebody get the boss!”

I looked quickly to the first gnome I’d domed just a few moments ago. I guess he wasn’t the actual hefe, which meant I needed to clean up shop with the gnomes still advancing on me before likely encountering their true leader.

You’ve got this, I thought as yet another disgruntled gnome jumped at me. Wait for it...

Wham!

I hit him out of the park, and managed to block the sharp teeth of the next gnome with the handle of my axe, the little bastard sinking his chompers in and losing his hat as I tried to flick him off. I gave up and resorted to fists, my knuckles breaking his nose upon impact and finally freeing up my axe.

“Going to call you Axl Rose,” I told my weapon as I swung it again, Babe Ruthing another one of the little turdmuffins straight into a tree. “Mostly because it’s a cool name, but also because the name Frank is already taken.”

It was all starting to make sense.

This couldn’t be a dream; I had been isekai’d (portaled, for those not versed in Mangalese) into some kind of fantasy world yet to be determined and even better, the serious icing on top of the cake—not only did it clearly have game elements, I’d gotten a boost in strength and stamina as well.

The only thing that was off was the gnomes, who are generally good guys. I should have known at that moment that something was off…

Not only that, the fighting had yet to wind me. By this point, I should have been feeling it. I certainly felt tension, but I wasn’t out of breath, and the bite that I’d received just a few moments ago was hurting less and less.

Kick ass!

This thought inspired me to go even harder against the bastardly band of gnomes.

I gave into the sheer power of my weapon, Axl Rose swinging ahead as if it were possessed, arcs of blood that would put even the most unrealistic anime to shame spritzing the air like the Bellagio fountain, a ballet of gnomey death, the likes of which left me feeling like Rambo once I’d finished up with the pack.

Calling it ‘bloody brilliant’ would be underselling it. I was living my best life!

After a pretty shitty couple of years, from my divorce to blowing all my money on crypto trying to moon my way to an early retirement, this was just about the most fun I’d had since DragonCon in Atlanta a few years back (a story for a later date).

I was alive again.

I was finishing off gnomes like there was no tomorrow.

And then suddenly, I wasn’t.

The gnomes were all dead, all aside from their boss, who stood before me, one foot on a tree stump as he sipped some sort of cocktail from a potion bottle. He was a head taller than the other gnomes—so the size of a sixth-grader? No idea—and he wore a tunic, or jacket, that was leathery, billeted, and sealed up at the front with a borderline BDSM vibe, his gnome hat black and matching his riveted get-up, a spiked mace in his hand.

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” I told him, “your guys attacked me first.”

The boss gnome tossed his adult beverage over his shoulder and tightened his hands on his spiked mace. “You think you can just stroll into this forest and start killing my people? That’s what you think?”

Do I detect a mobster-like accent? Tony Soprano the gnome clearly wasn’t playing around, his voice edged in utter hate, and disgust, but he looked so goddamn stupid that I found myself laughing again.

“Does this look like a joke to you!?”

Before I could conjure a snarky answer he bolted forward, the frothing boss gnome cracking his spiked mace against the side of my thigh.

“Shit!” I said, the pain instant to the point that it felt as if it had moved through my very core. What the hell kind of mace was that? Should I be protecting my private parts!?

“Think you’re some hotshot, that you can just show up here naked and start killing people, huh?” he asked as he approached again, something savage in his eyes now.

If you’re picturing me trying to stand with my leg shaking, axe loosely held in one hand, my dangly bits wide open for his next strike—you’d be right.

But it was also a ploy.

If this was a game world, then there would be some kind of healing to come. I could already sense it with the bite that I’d received earlier, the wound no longer red, bite marks all but faded away.

If I actually died beaten to a bloody pulp by an oversized gnome in a misty forest somewhere twenty miles west of the last known pub in Valinor, then so be it. It would make a great social media obituary, plenty of hearts, and care emojis, maybe a few tributes as well from some of my most diehard readers (of which there are six or seven, thank you, guys).

Alas, it had been a good life as a fantasy writer.

At least I hadn’t done something batshit like start a religious cult, or let the fame go to my head, or starved my loyal readers of the story they so desperately wanted for ten years. At least I hadn’t written a book on genre writing and marketing!

With this in mind, and with the fact that as far as I knew, I could die at any moment, I summoned up a deeply bottled rage as I shouted my next sentence:

“Come at me, gnome!”

I wasn’t proud of the words that tore free from my lips, but I was proud of how I put all my weight into my next swing, and how this had the added effect of springing me forward with a rush of energy not normally experienced by writers. Or anyone, not even Olympic athletes.

It was like someone had lit a magical fire under my ass, a burst of energy I gladly made use of as I lobbed the boss gnome’s head clean off—Schlick!—his enraged face spinning in the air and hitting the ground before his body fell.

I had officially killed all the gnomes.

<Congratulations, Randy. You have passed the test and have received your first level. Your health has been replenished. You will now gain access to your stats, your inventory list, and your digital wallet. You may proceed to the tower.>

Chapter Three: The Chapter in Which I Discover I Am Now A Crypto Millionaire

As quickly as I was standing there, I was suddenly lying on my back, heart thrumming, everything coming to me at once.

What… what just happened?

It took me a moment to come down from the rush I was experiencing as a burst of light poured into my body, making my limbs tingle. As I lay there on the pine needles graffitied in gnome blood, I could feel my leg continue to heal, the pain from the spiked mace dissipating, the broken skin stitching itself back up.

The British lady’s voice came to me again.

<Congratulations, Randy. You have passed the test and have received your first level. You will now gain access to your stats, your inventory list, and your digital wallet.>

I blinked my eyes open. “Is… is that what getting a level feels like?”

I wouldn’t describe it as ‘orgasmic enough to cause me to fall over,’ but I also wouldn’t not describe it as ‘orgasmic enough to cause me to fall over.’

My point is—if this was what it felt like to get a level, I wanted more.

“Wait… did you just say digital wallet?” I asked aloud.

<You may now start your journey to the tower, where you will receive further instructions. You have three days to reach the tower and start the First Realm, otherwise, your journey will come to a close. Good luck, Randy Lionheart.>

There was a lot to unpack in what the British lady had just told me, but that could wait for a moment as I tried to connect some of the dots that were more easily managed. Now that I had killed my first horde of gnomes in what was clearly a fantasy world, I was curious about the mechanics. If I was going to be forced to play a game I didn’t choose to begin with, I was going to do my damnedest to win.

“Do you have a name?” I asked, imagining the sultry British woman with a cute name like Penelope or Amelia.

Maybe a Lily?

Definitely a Lily.

Her voice came to me again.

<You may now start your journey to the tower, where you will receive further instructions. You have three days to reach the tower, otherwise, your journey will come to a close. Good luck, Randy Lionheart.>

“You don’t need to be so repetitive, readers hate that,” I told her, smirking at my own joke. Sometimes the only one laughing at me is me and I’m fine with that. I waited for her to respond and when she didn’t, I started up again: “I see how it is. I guess I’d do the same if I was in your shoes, keep things in suspense. Narrative suspense—my bread and butter. Sorry, you don’t care about my writing. Look, unless you’ve got a better suggestion, I think I’ll just call you Lily for now. We can get to the tower in a minute, but you said something about a level…”

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt like a kid at Christmas.

I was about to get access to an actual stat sheet, and hopefully there would be a way for me to mod my stats so I could build a truly amazing character. The game mechanics were inbound, and I planned to do things right. No noob shit, no mistakes, or poor choices.

Would I be able to see a 3-D model of myself and make some adjustments, perhaps give myself a big ol’ hog, or inflate muscles so I could look more like the Rock and less like a fairly fit dude who had spent way too much time wandering the woods of the Pacific Northwest? Would I be able to customize the color of my clothing and get cool bonuses? Were there hidden costumes I could unlock, like Scorpion’s uniform?

Boy, was I stoked.

“How do I access my stats? Don’t leave me hanging here, Lily!”

<To access your stats or your digital wallet, simply lift your finger into the air.>

“I should have known…”

Lifting my hand caused a new wave of prompts to appear, these ones in the form of actual words that quickly faded away, narrated by a cheesy, game show host voice.

Points!

You have gained your first level. Welcome, Fresh Meat!

You have no skill points to assign at this time, sorry!

You will receive access to skills and skill points when you reach level three.

You will be able to select your first class at Level 5.

Race: Human

Name: Randy Lionheart

Level: 1

Tier: Fresh Meat

HP: 13/13

MP: 0/0

Intelligence: 9

Perception: 7

Stamina: 6

Strength: 8

Dexterity: 11

Defense: 1

Health Regen: 10% per hour

MP Regen: 20% per hour

Skill Points: 0

Armor: N/A

Weapons: Axl Rose

Accessories: N/A

I guess this means I started at Level 0, weird, I thought as I scanned through the info again. Sadly, at this point in the game, I truly was fresh meat, and there didn’t seem to be anything I could do aside from ooh and aah at the fact I had a character sheet to begin with.

Still, if there was a Tier system…

“Lily, can you explain the Tier system?”

<Your Tier classification will change every ten levels, and once you reach these milestones you will be given additional bonuses and optional quests. Some tiers will have additional challenges that you will need to pass before advancing. From Levels 1-10, you will be ranked as ‘Fresh Meat.’ Once you reach Level 10, you will be ranked as ‘New Blood.’ Your tier will change again once you reach level 20.>

“Thanks, makes sense. All of this makes sense. And Level 20? Are we continuing along the lines of snarky Tier titles or will it change to something more traditional at that point, like ‘diamond,’ or ‘gold,’ or, ‘silver?’”

<You will need to reach Level 20 to learn about the next Tier.>

“Holding out on me, huh? Fine, fine. Also, about my race…”

<You are human.>

“Yes, I am. What did you mean when you said I couldn’t change my race at this time. Did you mean… I had other options?”

<Yes, all intakes have an option of what race they would like to be. You have chosen human.>

“Intake, huh? So there are others like me?”

<Yes, there are new intakes like you. None have chosen human.>

“I didn’t know I had other options.”

<Most intakes ask what their options are. Unfortunately, you are not able to change your race at this time.>

“So I’m the only human right now?”

<Yes, that is correct.>

“In the tower as well?”

<The tower has seven realms. To my knowledge, you are the only human. There are human hybrids on some of the levels.>

“So I’m… the only man in Genera.”

<Yes. That is correct.>

“Making me the first and last man, at least to your knowledge.”

<Also correct.>

“Last man standing…” I nodded at Lily, wherever she was. “That would be a great title for a book if it wasn’t already overused. That’s a problem in my field, you know. Nowadays, I have to head to Amazon and Google to see if someone has already used my title idea. Nine times out of ten, someone has used it in some way. Fucking IP—it’s a slippery slope. And don’t get me started on odd Japanese-English translations and western authors trying to mirror their quirky titles. I mean, I get it, I am one of those authors.” I sighed for no one in particular. “Sorry. Where were we?”

<You may now start your journey to the tower, where you will receive further instructions. You have three days to reach the tower…>

“Working on it,” I told her, recalling something that Lily had just said about a digital wallet. Did I actually have money here? I swiped my finger to the left and my digital wallet appeared.

Harmon Tokens_ _ _ _ _ 929,673

Bitcoin (BTC) _ _ _ _ _ 0

Ethereum (ETH) _ _ _ _ _ 0

Dogcoin (DOGE) _ _ _ _ _ 0

Cardano (ADA) _ _ _ _ _  0

Solana (Sol)_ _ _ _ _  0

USD Coin (USDC) _ _ _ _ _  0

LyraCoin _ _ _ _ _ 0

There it was, the nearly one million Harmon Tokens that I had wasted my last advance on based on some serious shit advice from Reddit’s WallStreetBetsCrypto page. It was supposed to rocket; the coins were supposed to increase 1,650% in value leaving me with enough money to build my own Taj Mahal somewhere out near Astoria and fill it with NFTs, sexy Tesla androids, Louis Vuitton helicopters, and vats of beluga-albino caviar.

So much caviar.

Like all things too good to be true, this turned out not to be the case, and not because I didn’t have a taste for caviar or the finer things in life, but because Harmon Tokens were the shittiest of shitcoins, the kind that all the Doge knockoffs would have laughed at. Truth be told, I probably shouldn’t have trusted the billionaire driving up the price so they could pump and dump, but I’d stupidly held, and as the walls came tumbling down, as everyone and their mom bailed, I held onto my Harmon Tokens even though I didn’t even understand the asset. I figured it would rise again—what goes up must come down, right?—and I was dead wrong.

“Where are we again?” I asked Lily. “I mean, what’s the name of this place, this world?”

<You are in Genera.>

“Is the tower called Genera or just…” I took a look around. “The land that surrounds it.”

<All is Genera. The tower has a different name, one that you will learn about when you successfully make it there.>

“And what is the currency here in Genera?”

A quick glance confirmed that I had a new coin in my digital wallet that I didn’t recognize, which I assumed was either a stablecoin, or this fantasy world’s actual currency.

<The currency is called Lyra.>

“Should I pronounce it lie-ra, like a Brit would, or lee-ra, also like a Brit would. I have no idea what I’m doing, sorry, Lily.”

<The currency is called Lyra.>

“In that case, I’ll just say it like you say it, Lee-ra it is. One last question before I get to this tower, assign my points, get my ass some clothes, etcetera: Lily, what would, say, a nice hotel cost here? Or better, a house. Yeah, a house. A couple of stories, plenty of rooms, like something you could buy in the Midwest and grow a family, maybe near a corn field, plenty of space to get weird without your neighbors seeing you. What would a house like that cost here in Genera?”

<It would depend on which realm of the Tower you settled on. The realms vary in price. A moderate home in the First or Second Realm of the Tower would cost you an average of fifteen to twenty thousand Lyra.>

I quickly checked the exchange rate by selecting LyraCoin followed by the word ‘trade.’

“So… one Harmon Token is worth 6,500 LyraCoins, which acts as a stablecoin and has the same exchange rate as actual Lyra, the actual currency here so…” My eyes went wide at about the moment I ran the numbers. “You’re saying that around three Harmon Tokens would be enough to buy a moderately sized home?”

<That is correct.>

“And I have nearly a million Harmon Tokens.”

<If that is what your digital wallet says, then yes.>

“So… I’m rich. I’m basically rich, right?” I asked her, the adrenaline returning.

<Yes, Randy, you are technically rich. You will be able to purchase items once you reach the tower. When you are ready, you may make your way to the tower, where you will receive further instructions. You have three days to reach the tower, otherwise, your journey will come to a close. You may now loot the gnomes.>

“Loot the gnomes, huh?” I said as I turned back to their bodies.

I rubbed my hands together, remembering that I was naked in that moment and how odd what I was doing would have looked had someone come across me in that moment. A naked guy standing in a forest over the bodies of dead gnomes rubbing his hands together with a greedy glaze over his eyes?

Not a good look, Randy, not a good look…

But I wasn’t here for appearances, I was here to win, even if I didn’t exactly know what the prize was, how I had gotten here, or the utter shitshow that was in store for me.

At least I was rich.

Which was better than how I had started the day.

Chapter Four: Just My Luck

The urge to take a victory lap had never been higher. Screw my life back in Portland, Oregon; to hell with my middling fantasy back catalog wasting away in the digital wasteland or yellowing on the shelves of a used bookstore; and to all the readers who had let me borrow their headspace to tell my stories, thank you and good night—I’m signing off!

It really had come to that point.

Whatever this place called Genera was, it was something new, something exciting, and if I had three days to get to the tower I could see looming in the distance, then I would be there in two.

After all, what was the worst that could happen?

<To access your digital wallet, swipe left; to access your inventory list swipe right. You may add items to your inventory list through trading, purchasing, and looting tokens.>

“Swiping left and right? Sort of like one of those dating apps, right?”

Lily never replied.

“I guess we’ll just call that one an inside joke. Now…”  I took a look at the gnome bodies, still not certain why the first enemies had been gnomes. Whoever designed this game world, or whatever, really should have picked a better set of baddies for the tutorial...

Lily’s voice came to me again, interrupting my inner monologue.

<To loot, approach the object, person, or thing you would like to loot. A window will appear. You can send the items and tokens they possess directly to your inventory list from this window, you can also examine the item, and you can wear it. Unless you have a token that expands your inventory list, you can only hold seven items at a time. This will change once you reach Level 5.>

“A token?” I asked. “Is this more crypto shit?”

<Please, approach one of the bodies.>

“Don’t mind if I do.” I stopped in front of the nearest dead gnome, and sure enough, a window appeared telling me that he had a clove of garlic (were there vampires here?), a tarnished necklace with a phallic centerpiece, listed as a Tarnished Necklace Token, and a set of basic clothing, listed as Basic Gnome Clothing. “Basic, huh?”

The gnome wore a tunic accented by leather strips of armor and black boots. It wasn’t the most appealing clothing, but it looked like it would get the job done, and it beat bashing bad guys with my member swinging about.

<If you choose this clothing, it will automatically adjust to your size and appear on your body. You may also put it in your inventory list, where it will appear as a token.>

“But I should probably be wearing something...” I shrugged. “Let’s give it a try. But before I do, does wearing something count as an item in my inventory list. You said I can only have seven, so just double-checking.”

<No, it does not.>

“What if I keep things in my pockets?”

<No, this doesn’t count as well. Please note, most of the clothing in Genera doesn’t have pockets.>

“But I could always get a manbag or something… sorry, just trying to figure out the parameters here,” and how I can game the system, I thought. “I guess if I’m going to be slaying my way toward the tower, it’d be better to do it with clothing on rather than freeballing.”

The window appeared before me:

Item name: Basic Gnome Clothing (Common)

Armor Rating: 3

Perks: None

An online reviewer had once called one of my books basic, which had annoyed me to no end. Nothing wrong with being basic, I thought as the clothing appeared on my body, magically adjusted for my size. The pointy red hat also took shape on my head, even though the gnome hadn’t been wearing it.

“Not going to need this…” I tossed the felt hat away and continued looting, stopping in front of each gnome and discovering that they truly had nothing aside from tarnished yet phallic jewelry clearly worth nothing (or so I assumed) and garlic cloves.

This got me thinking.

“I’m supposed to eat, right? Stupid question, I know. But… am I?”

Even though I wasn’t hungry at the time, it made sense that I would need food at some point.

<Yes, you will need to scavenge, purchase, or hunt food. You can store it in your inventory list. Food will not appear as a token, but you can get a token that allows you to have a separate digital food pantry.>

I ran my hand over my beard stubble and once again looked at the tower in the distance, the fall foliage creating a perfect frame of orange and red around the enormous structure. “I’ll need to figure that out. Tell me more about these tokens. I just want to make sure I understand what’s going on here,” I told Lily as I started off toward the tower.

<Tokens allow you to modify your user interface, learn new things from spells to attacks, and artificially improve certain aspects of your basic stats. Every item you have is represented by a token. For example, if you put your axe in your inventory list, it would be listed as a token. The only items that don’t exist as tokens that take up space are food, tokens that modify your user interface, and physical cash. Tokens exist on Genera’s blockchain, and they modify the very DNA of the world. Since you now exist in this world, they modify your DNA as well.>

“Weird, but… I guess that sort of makes sense.”

<Once you receive a token, it will be stored in your inventory list until you use it. They are tradable and purchasable, and if you die by the hands of an intake, the intake that kills you gets all of your tokens. As previously stated, user interface tokens, which allow you to customize your user interface and do a variety of things, won’t take up space in your inventory list once they’re active. Some tokens, especially ones that modify your weapons or certain magic spells, can only be used once.>

“So they are like cards?” I asked aloud. I tried to remember how the fourth season of the anime Hunter X Hunter worked and failed miserably. They lost me there. “Maybe not cards. I’m just envisioning them like that, cards that have certain abilities tied to them that you can keep or trade.”

<They are tokens.>

“Yes, like cards. Wait, did you say blockchain? Genera has a blockchain?”

<The tower is the root of this blockchain. You will learn more about this when you reach there. To demonstrate how a user interface token works, I will gift you a token. Please raise your hand.>

I raised my hand as if I were trying to be called upon by my incredibly bosom-y second grade teacher (shout out to Mrs. Robinson!). It was only after my hand was in the air that I interpreted that she wanted me to actually turn my palm around.

As soon as I did, a small, glowing orb appeared, the outline of a fiery dragon tracing around it. What was listed as a Luck Token appeared in my inventory list, and intuitively was added to my basic stat sheet, the token now grayed out to indicate it wasn’t actually taking up space in my list.

Luck Token - A Luck Token allows you to add Luck to your basic stat sheet. To increase your Luck, gain more levels, utilize accessories, or find other Tokens.

Race: Human

Name: Randy Lionheart

Level: 1

Tier: Fresh Meat

HP: 13/13

MP: 5/5

Intelligence: 9

Perception: 7

Stamina: 6

Strength: 8

Dexterity: 11

Defense: 4

Luck: 0

Health Regen: 10% per hour

MP Regen: 20% per hour

Skill Points: 0

Armor: Basic Gnome Wear (+3)

Weapons: Axl Rose

“Just my luck,” I said, wishing someone were around to compliment me on my wit.

<Your basic stats can change with each level. Later on, you will be able to craft tokens that can modify your basic attributes.>

“Sweetness.” I returned my gaze to the tower, feeling fresh to death without a care in the world, a million crypto bucks just burning a hole through my digital wallet. I’d done a lot of stupid shit in my life, and dumping my last advance and what I had left in a lukewarm IRA into Harmon Tokens was probably one of the stupider things.

Sure, laugh at me and the poor financial decision I’d made, but I really thought it was where things were going to go, and on one hand, I was right, crypto was a thing of the present future. But it was also the breeding ground for a lot of schemers, a crowded and barely understood market, especially for suckers like me.

But things were different now.

I had always been a bit of a Mad Lad, yet now I had the chance to do something utterly insane and be rich at the same time in a fantasy world no less. I mean, shit, I had already hacked my way through a nest of gnomes, and I had finally got my first level. I had quickly adapted to using an axe like I was related to Paul Bunyan, and I was now set to grind and loot my way to the top of a tower. From there? Who knew? I’d figure it out along the way.

All I needed now was a bit more luck, literally, and a few more answers before I started off.

“Can I die?” I asked as I turned back to where I had picked up my axe earlier. Sure enough, the weapons I had seen were now gone.

<Yes, Randy, you can die.>

Not exactly the answer I expected… I thought as I followed the pathway before me, one that looked navigable enough.

“So the gnomes could have killed me?” I asked.

<Yes, and then you would have died.>

“Where would I have died? And no need to get existential here, I’m just trying,” I ducked under a limb, “to understand the ways of the land. Would I have died here or where I’m from?”

<You would have died in Genera.>

“What about Earth?”

<I’m sorry, I am not able to speak to your home of origin.>

“Ah, I get it, I get it,” I told Lily. “That’s the rub, isn’t it?”

<The rub?>

“If I die here, I die in the real world. Classic LitRPG trope, or any portal fantasy, for that matter. But it works, right?”

<I don’t know what LitRPG is, my apologies, Randy. People do not die in Genera, they become part of the synthetic reality.>

“That’s like me saying I don’t know what existing on Earth as a homosapien is. But nevermind. I was just hoping for something a bit more…?”

My next step took me off guard. I had reached an opening in the trees, one that showed signs of rain, the ground slick. What I wasn’t expecting was for my foot to instantly be sucked into the mud, the surface of the muck morphing into tendril-like fingers and tracing up my leg, grabbing at my crotch.

“Hands off!” I shouted as I tried to swat the mud hand away with the butt of my axe. By this point, the muck had overtaken my other foot, the surface bubbling and devious, crop-dusting me with a sulphur-like stench.

A muck-ridden fist shot out of the mud and slugged me in the face, hard enough that things went black for a second.

Wham!

I blinked my eyes awake again and tried to ward off another muddy fist attack, now submerged up to my waist, panic setting in as I quickly remembered what Lily said.

If I died here? Would I die in the real world? Was I already dead? Was I part of the synthetic reality that Lily had mentioned? Was there a Heaven? What if God was one of us? Just a slob like one of us? And for that matter, who would bore me more with my impending post-mortem lecture, Sartre or Nietzsche? Were those dudes even in Heaven?

“Lily!” I shouted. “Lily, I… I need your help!”

<I’m sorry, Randy. I really wish there was something I could do.>

Rather than curse Lily for watching me die, I started to kick my legs back and forth to little effect.

I was shit out of luck, the muck now climbing my happy trail, running its muddy finger inside my belly button, smoothing its way like a salacious peanut butter up my body and looking to give me a pair of titty twisters. More bubbles, more sulphuric pops, the world closing in, my next manuscript destined to never be published.

I didn’t stop fighting.

My arms tiring, my legs practically useless, I tried my damnedest to kick the quickmud’s ass, failing miserably, working myself up to a point of exhaustion when I suddenly heard a new voice.

“I can help you.”

I looked to my left to find an elven man with dark skin, black hair slicked behind his ears, creepy runes for pupils and sharp features, the makings of either a villain, an antihero, or albino drow cosplay gone terribly wrong that would create issues once the photos resurfaced.

How long had he been watching me? And why did he look so sinister? Why was he armed with a glowing rapier?

Either way, he was my only resort.

“Yes, please!” I shouted to him.

“And in exchange?” the dark elf asked, his voice cutting through the sound of boiling noxious mud as it moved higher and higher, now at the shoulder level. He had a slight European accent, one that I always wished I’d had and one that would have been perfect for a Bond villain.

“I…”

My eyes doubled in size as I glanced to Axl Rose, my weapon nearly completely submerged by this point. I searched my brain for anything tradable. I had some basic gnome clothing, but surely the dark elf didn’t want that, not in the spiffy Dunmer outfit he’d put together with form-fitting armor accented in an illuminous metal I’d never seen before.

“Luck—!” I blurted out.

“Luck?” he asked, his eyes narrowing on me.

“I have a Luck Token. Just got it. I can give you that?”

“Luck…” He crouched for a moment, the mud moving even higher, now at the point that it had reached my chin.

“It’s yours, just… just help me out of here!”

“Agreed. Transfer the token first.”

“Wh-what!?”

Some of the muck spilled into my mouth, the taste bitter and earthy.

“Transfer it,” I heard the dark elf say firmly.

It was instinctual by that point, my hand moving beneath the mud, inventory list appearing, the tab that listed my inventory suddenly open. Lily’s voice came to me as I made a gesture to select the Luck Token.

<Transfer your Luck Token to Lothan? He is an intake, just like you.>

“Yes! Yes! Transfer it, transfer it!”

Lothan the dark elf examined the token for just a moment, the orb with the fiery dragon twisting around it illuminating his pale face. “It’s always nice to make a friend.”

With that, the dark elf turned in the direction of the tower, leaving me to sink to my death.

Chapter Five: Clovis the Spellbook and the Mad Lad Fight a Hangry Kobold

The muck seeped into my nostrils, as I officially stopped squirming, awaiting my final thoughts.

I shed a single tear for the books I would never write; thought briefly of my ex-wife, Chelsea, and how things could have been different; wondered for a millisecond if I was officially dying in the isolation tank back in the real world. I thought maybe all the crazy shit that had happened up to this point had taken place in the brief moments before I expired, perhaps something triggered by the DMT my brain released upon my death; I remembered my dead parents (I’ll be joining you soon!); and wondered why Lily, my companion AI, was leaving me out to dry.

Goodbye, cruel fantasy world, I hardly knew thee…

Sad whistling should have been the last thing I heard over the bubbling muck that had nearly swallowed me up, yet it reached my ears somehow, my eyes darting left to find a book floating midair. It was open, its pages in disarray, the tomb bound in leather with gold accents on its spine and a clasp like a book you’d find in Charles Dickens’ personal library. Not only that, a turquoise energy radiated around it.

I assumed it was a spellbook.

“H… help!” I managed to shout. To do so, I had to tilt my head all the way back, the muck filling my earholes. “Help me, book!”

The floating book slowly turned in my direction.

“H-help!” I shouted. “I’m going to die and… I’m too young to die!”

The book hovered over to me, still open in the middle, and as it grew closer I saw more pages hanging out of it, some of them torn, others centimeters away from falling out.

“You’re not young,” the book said in a feeble voice. It snapped shut, nearly losing one of its papers, and started to float away.

What in the fuck? I thought, the muck rising even higher now, some of it getting into my mouth. “Please, help!”

The book stopped floating away and turned back to me. It opened once again. “I don’t know how to help you. I’m sorry.”

“You’re… you’re clearly magical. Do some magic!”

“I’m still trying to figure that part out…” The book twitched as if it were trying to think up a solution. Suddenly, it snapped shut and flew open again, a terrifying beam of turquoise energy spiraling out of it.

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAMMMMMMMMMMM!

The burst of magical power sent the spellbook twisting backward and straight up as it changed its trajectory, the energy cutting into the muck holding my hostage.

The relief came in an instant, the muck seeping away, down past my shoulders.

A hump formed on the surface of the mud, confirming something I’d already figured out. The muck was alive, hence the fist it had slugged me with earlier, perhaps the reason it had tried to drown me. Whatever the book had done to it had injured the mud to some degree.

As soon as I had my wits about me, I did what any gamer trapped in a magical world and in possession of a pretty badass axe would do. I began striking the muck with good ol’ Axl Rose. Rather than simply slip beneath the surface, the axe actually seemed to do some damage. The muck continued to retreat even after the book snapped itself shut, mostly due to the fact that I was doing my best Bam-Bam impression and pummeling the living mud to death. This included chasing after it as it tried to retreat into the woods, cursing at it, even tackling the muck, and using the wooden throat of my axe to choke it out.

The mud stopped moving, and as it did a screen appeared in front of me and listed just one item.

Instant Muck Token

Allows you to summon muck that will grow until it has a diameter of fifteen feet.

<There are numerous ways to use your token. The easiest way is to just say the token aloud, whisper it, or think it. You can also access your inventory list and equip it from there.>

Definitely something I will need to test out, I thought as I gladly took the token, not caring at that moment what it did. As soon as the token was in my inventory list, the mud dripping from my body faded away.

“That was…” I looked back at the floating book, who still seemed a bit wobbly. “That was insane! Thanks, man!”

“I don’t feel so well…”

The floating book lowered to the ground and turned onto its back. It opened up in the middle once again and lay there like a starfish for a moment, the energy radiating around it waning to some degree.

I crouched in front of the book. “You saved me.” I offered the book my hand, but then realized it wasn’t going to be able to shake it. Instead, I found one of its loose pages and stuffed it in at the front.

“That tickles…”

“You saved me,” I said for a second time as I continued to try to fix the spellbook’s pages. It kept giggling.

“I didn’t want to.”

“What? That’s not the response I was hoping for but you know what? Never mind. I’m still alive, I now have a new token, I have a new enemy—don’t worry, it’s not you—and we have a tower to get to. I’m assuming you’re one of the intakes.”

“Intakes?”

I turned quickly and asked a question into my arm. “Lily, is he an intake?”

<Yes, the spellbook is a new intake, like yourself.>

“I don’t want to climb the tower.”

“Climb, tower, climb, is my motto, book, or at least it is now. Better than the first motto that came to mind, Climbing in the Name Of, you know, based on the song.”

“I’ve never heard of that song.”

“Rage Against the Machine?” I asked.

“I don’t mind machines.”

“Touché. I’ll ignore your taste in music for now. Look, according to what I’ve learned already, if we don’t make it to the tower in three days, we’ll die. I don’t know what your companion AI has told you, but that’s what mine said. You do have one, right?”

It was a moment before the book responded. “You mean the voice that keeps talking to me?”

“That would be the one. I’ve named mine Lily. She’s British. Isn’t that right, Lily?”

<You have three days to reach the tower, Randy.>

“Did you hear her?” I asked the book.

“No. I ignore mine. It’s not a good sign to be hearing voices. I didn’t go through years of therapy to start hearing voices now.”

“Personally, I love hearing voices. I’m a fantasy writer and the more voices I hear, the better. That’s the best way to channel characters. Create them, and let them speak through you. It can be hard to control at times, but I’m a professional, and I have learned to manage it.”

“You... are a writer?”

“I sure am, Book. Heh. Writer meet book, book meet writer. I can’t make that shit up.”

“Lame. My name is Clovis.”

I ignored the ‘lame’ comment as I went with my next question: “Can I still call you book?”

“I would prefer Clovis.”

“Okay, well, to answer your question, Clovis, I am a writer. Are you a reader?”

“No, I’m a book.”

“Yeah, I can see that Clovis, I mean back on Earth. You are from Earth, right?”

“I’m from Ithaca.”

“Okay, so New York State, which is also on Earth unless we are talking some sort of multiverse situation here. Are you a reader?”

“I’m a book.”

Is he fucking with me?

“I asked you if you were a reader because I am a writer. On Earth. I am a writer.”

Clovis sighed, his pages fluttering. “I don’t know if I believe that.”

“What part about my appearance makes you think I’m not a writer?”

“You’re not overweight.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say about writers.”

“I read a lot of fantasy books and I attend conventions.”

“Fair,” I told Clovis. “What else then?”

“You’re not bald; you’re not wearing a black t-shirt; you have a beard but you don’t have a neckbeard. I could go on.”

“I just try to stay healthy and I have hair, long hair, in fact. It doesn’t make me not a writer.”

“You asked why I didn’t assume you were a writer. I’m telling you.” Clovis slapped his pages together again and shot into the air, the spellbook lowering back to the ground as if he were gingerly floating down onto a hammock. “I’m still getting used to being a spellbook.”

“Clearly. Wait, did you say you read a lot of fantasy?”

“I think I said something like that, maybe. My memory isn’t very good. I also have asthma, a fear of flying on airplanes that I’m still trying to get over, and I get motion sickness. I believe I may have alien hand disorder, but we can circle back around to that later.”

Alien hand disorder? I thought, forcing a smile. “Randy Lionheart. Ever heard of that writer?”

“Randy Lionheart… Randy Lionheart… you mean Randi Darren?”

“The harem writer? No. Not him. Lionheart. Like the heart of a lion. It’s not a pen name either. Definitely has a blueblood sort of old money East Coast feel, but it works. It was also a Van Damme movie.”

“What was a Van Damme movie?”

“Lionheart.”

“Which Van Damme?”

“How many damn Van Dammes are there?”

Clovis giggled again. “That’s a Van Damme good question.”

“It Van Damme is a damn Van Damme good question.”

We laughed together at this, Clovis finally speaking after he had wound down. “I’m sorry, Randy, I haven’t heard of your stuff. I’m not as prolific as some readers.”

It hurt, it really hurt, but I suspected as much. While I had done work for a few independent publishers and sold thousands upon thousands of books (enough to warrant an advance—I’m not a hack, dammit!), most of my stuff hadn’t truly reached mainstream outlets. The closest I had come to fantasy royalty had been the time I ran into Jim Butcher at Gen Con a few years back. Sure, it had been the restroom, and sure, we hadn’t said anything to each other, but we ended up using the same bathroom, he mumbled something about drinking too much coffee, I almost said hello, and we definitely made eye contact through the mirror at the sink.

“What books have you written?” asked Clovis.

“Ever heard of Kung Fu Fable?”

“No. Sounds like cultural appropriation.”

“That’s fair. Um… The Mana in the White Castle.”

“Pass. I hate puns and play-on-word titles.”

“Um, Mage of Rage?”

“Did you come up with these titles yourself?”

“War Beast?”

“Read one called War Priest once. Liked it enough. Hojo was the best part.”

“Uhhh...”

“What else?”

“It’s no big deal. Clearly, you haven’t heard of my stuff. I’m not going to sit here and list it all out. There’s a lot, Clovis, a lot.”

“Randy Lionheart… Randy Lionheart…” he sighed, his form drooping. “I wish I could say I read something, but I haven’t. Did you write under any other names?”

I clenched my eyes shut for a moment.

“Just the one name?”

“I have published something under Angel Farts.”

Clovis shot even higher into the air and stopped at eye level. He slowly turned to me, the book flapping open, papers nearly falling out. “You’re… you’re Angel Farts?”

“I mean, I’m Randy, the noun not the adjective, but I did write a book under that name. So yes. I’m, um, Angel Farts. It’s a stupid name, I know, but so many of these webserial guys hit it big with names that make no sense, I figured I’d give it a shot. TurtleMe? Shirtaloon? Pirateaba? Nobody103? Raven Dagger? God, there are so many. And don’t get me started on Chinese web novels, that’s a whole can of worms too when it comes to nom de plumes. Anyway. I was Angel Farts, still am, in fact.”

“I KNOW who Angel Farts is. I read Oh, Great, I Fell in Love with a Demon Mimic and Now I’m Going to Hell to Become a Dungeoncore Farmer twice. No, three times. I read it three times.”

“Why?”

Clovis did what I would later come to recognize as his version of a shrug. “I don’t know,” he said, relaxing to some degree. “I just liked it.”

“People like what they like.”

“You are such an okay writer.”

“That’s… not how that compliment is supposed to go.”

“I’ve been meaning to read it again, I try to make it an annual thing, but somehow, I ended up here.”

“Story of my life.”

“You read your own books?”

“No, I mean ending up here.” I turned to the tower in the distance, which was still glowing, still beckoning us forward. “So are we going to climb that tower or what, Clovis? Sure, we’ve got a lot to unpack, but we can do that on the way there. So, are you in?”

“Ummm…” The spellbook twitched, as if he were considering my question. “I guess. What else is there to do?”

“That’s the spirit, Clovis, let’s go!”

****

Clovis floated beside me as I walked, the spellbook occasionally shuffling his pages and grumbling to the point that I figured I’d ask him a question that had been nagging me.

“Why did you ask to become a book?”

We had just reached a meadow, one that had butterflies and other insects in it, an entirely serene scene that made me know for certain that we were going to come to something crazy soon. That’s how it always worked. Lull us into lowering our guard, and then hit us with another horde of gnomes. Bam!

At least this was what I assumed would happen.

“I don’t know if you’re supposed to ask questions like that,” Clovis finally said.

“About race?”

“I mean…” He turned to me. “Do you think it’s appropriate?”

“For fuck’s sake, Clovis. I don’t care what race you are back on Earth, really, I don’t. I just want to know why you became a book.”

“Are you sure? That sounds like something a racist would say.”

“How are we even having this conversation? Okay, that’s a loaded question considering where we are and the circumstances we’ve met under. Let me try like this: how did we go from me asking you why you are a book to talking about who we are back on Earth?”

He made a shrug-like gesture and sighed. “I guess you’re right. To answer your question, I’m a spellbook because of the NieR video game series. I’m just like Grimoire Weiss, except less grumpy. When I was asked to choose a species, I chose spellbook. And… here we are. I’m a book.”

“And I’m a human. So we both chose wrong.”

“You could have been anything and your first response was human?”

“No need to bust my balls, Clovis. I thought the voice in my head was my muse and… you know what? Never mind. I don’t need to hash out my process with you.”

“So you actually said human?”

“Do I look like a human to you? At least I didn’t say ‘spellbook.’”

Clovis nodded. “That was probably a smart thing. I wish I had chosen something cooler.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. A superhero.”

The statement caused me to grin. “We’re in a fantasy world, one with a clear medieval spin on it, which, I’ve got to say now just to get it off my chest: how cliche. Why do all fantasy worlds have a medieval spin on them?”

“They don’t. I can think of several that don’t.”

“Sorry, you’re right. I’m getting hungry, and lately I’ve been getting my ass kicked by the book industry, you know, baggage,” I told him, wishing I had a scabbard or a sling, some place to put my axe so I didn’t have to carry it. The piece was getting heavy. “So ignore me.”

“Do what?”

“Clever. When did you arrive?”

“Maybe a day ago. I don’t know. Maybe less.” Clovis snapped shut and slowly tilted so he was floating vertically.

“Did the sun set?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you kill gnomes when you first got here? I sure did.”

“Kill the gnomes? Why would I kill gnomes, Randy? Gnomes rule.”

“Not the gnomes I had to fight off. They were bastards, entitled weapons-grade fuck baskets,” I said, my statement causing him to laugh. “You like that one? I’m not going to lie, it’s a hobby of mine to scour the internet and the old noggin’ for the best string of curse words I can find. I used to keep a little book of them. Lost it in Portland. Whoever found that book has a literal goldmine of disses, true asshattery at their very fingertips. Too bad too because I was really hoping to put some of those phrases in a book. I digress. No gnomes when you got here? Weird. Did you have to fight anyone?”

“Let me think…” Clovis started to tilt up, a bit of light coming in through the foliage adding a hint of sparkle to the gold. “That’s right. I almost had to fight a dragon, but I ran away instead.”

“A real dragon? You can’t run, by the way.”

“A baby dragon. Maybe it was a kobold. I can actually run if I drop down like so…” He tilted toward the ground and landed, the book open at forty-five degrees as he hobbled on the ground. “It’s not very effective.”

“But it looks sort of cool. So… you were supposed to kill the dragon, or kobold, or whatever. You didn’t listen to your companion AI?”

“Companion AI? Do you mean the voice in my head? I’m not listening to that voice.”

“It’s helpful.”

“So if a voice in your head says, I don’t know, ‘kill the bus driver to gain your first level,’ would you kill the bus driver?”

Racking my brain for a counter argument turned up nothing. “I haven’t ridden the bus in a long time, but yeah, I guess I see your point.”

“That’s what I’m saying, Angel Farts—”

“—You are not authorized to call me that. It’s Randy, the noun, not the adjective.”

“Is that short for something?”

“Randall, and you aren’t calling me that either.”

“Anyway, as I was saying, RANDY, I’m not going to listen to a voice in my head telling me to kill things and level up. You probably shouldn’t either.”

“Is your voice a woman?”

“I’m not assigning a gender to the voice in my head that I’m not going to listen to.”

“So…” It dawned on me what was going to happen here, and likely how this relationship would play out. For some reason, I accepted it at the time, figuring I’d let future Randy get annoyed with Clovis and wish that we had parted ways directly after our first encounter. Little did I know that we were going to somehow click, that we worked well together for some odd reason. I continued my line of questioning: “So do… you know how the system works?”

“No.”

“Do… do you want to know?”

Clovis didn’t answer.

“I’m going to take that as a ‘yes.’ in that case, welcome, Clovis, you are in a fantasy world named Genera that has game elements. This means that you can actually gain levels, which I’m sure you’ll do at some point. The system isn’t so complex just yet, but I have a feeling there will be more to it as we progress. Anyway. Once you gain your first level, you will have access to your stats, where you will see your HP, MP, Intelligence, Perception, Stamina, Strength…” I pulled up my stats to make sure I wasn’t missing anything. “Dexterity, Defense…” There was no way I was going to stop the grimace that spread across my face when I remembered I’d had my Luck stat stripped from me.

Damn you, Lothan, I thought, wondering whether I’d see him again or not.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, sorry. Um. What else? Health and MP regen. You’ll also see your armor rating, and your current weapon. My weapon is this beauty,” I said, showing him my axe, “who I have christened Axl Rose.”

“Axl Rose. Axl Rose. Not a bad name for an axe. Is that some sort of celebrity?”

I got the sense that Clovis was Gen Z, but rather than shudder and try to figure out the best way to help him navigate life without offending him in some way, I simply continued on: “Yes, Axl Rose is a celebrity. A singer. Of the little band you may have heard of known as Guns and Roses.”

“I think one of their songs was in Grand Theft Auto.”

“Yes, that sounds about right. Thus far, I am, and by extension you are, too low level to really be able to figure out classes and better utilize our stats, but we can use tokens. Tokens can be looted, purchased, traded, or rewarded. Tokens are everything here, aside from food. So if you get something, you can put it in your inventory list and it appears as a token. Like…” I looked at my axe. Sure enough, it disappeared, and accessing my inventory list allowed me to see it there as Axe Token. “Didn’t know I could do that… but anyway. To recap: tokens allow you to do tons of shit, but I don’t know what kind of shit just yet because I’ve only gotten two official tokens not including my axe, and one was stolen from me.”

“Which one?”

“A Luck Token.”

“That’s not lucky.”

“No, it’s not. Anyway, that’s all the stuff my companion AI, a British woman named Lily, told me. I guess since… since you aren’t going to listen to yours, I’ll tell you what mine says.”

Clovis started floating forward again. “I’m fine with that.”

I didn’t want to question the logic of this, that Clovis would hear from the voice in my head but not the voice in his, but I couldn’t resist: “Just to be clear. You’re fine with me talking to the voice in my head about you, as long as it is not you talking to the voice in your head about you.”

“Mental health is complicated, Randy.” Clovis seemed to perk up, a few of his pages shooting out of his form, the book having to snap shut to grab them. “Something is happening up there.”

The magical book whipped to the side just as a kobold tore out of the underbrush, a wild look in the creature’s eyes. Standing at about my height (five feet eleven and some change, but who’s counting?) the kobold wore a loincloth that barely covered his lizard bits, the reptilian humanoid with thick calf muscles that showed that he rarely skipped leg day, sharp claws, tattoos tracing up his arms, and a tail that looked like it would pack a wallop.

And it did.

As soon as he saw us, the kobold threw himself at me and cracked me in the side of the head with his massive tail.

I don’t know if I was out cold, but I was definitely seeing stars. I hit the ground hard enough to rattle the pair of six-sided dice inside my head, and felt a sudden, second wind come on. I was game. I was the Mad Lad, and it was time to enter beast mode.

“Axe!” I shouted, my weapon of choice appearing in my hand.

Frothing at the lips, snarling, smoke billowing out of my ears, I exploded toward the kobold, who responded once again with his tail. Swish! My blade pressed through the kobold’s tail, his body going right and tail sailing left, the kobold absolutely shocked at what I’d done by the time the dust cleared, the two of us hunched over and seething at one another.

A pained expression traced across his face. “You… you fucking cut my tail off!”

“Clovis, you’re supposed to kill that thing to get your first level. Do it!”

“Thing? I’m a goddamn male kobold!” the reptilian shrieked, tears appearing in his eyes. “And fuck you! Fuck you and your spellbook!”

“First, this isn’t my spellbook—”

“I don’t give a McShit!”

Clovis was the first to start laughing, followed by Yours Truly, both of us momentarily oblivious to the kobold with the bloody tail and sour disposition who also happened to have a short sword. (He didn’t try to use it earlier, so I didn’t mention it.) Actually, if I’d had the opportunity to give the kobold some brief combat tips, I would have suggested not jumping into a fight like he’s trying to do a kickflip and relying solely on his tail.

But that’s just me.

“I’m saving that one to the harddrive,” I told him, feeling the Mad Lad within ready to fight yet again. “McShit. I like it!”

“That’s my line!” The kobold swung his sword at me, and I somehow managed to block it. We did the thing where both our weapons were pressed into one another for a moment, the two of us growling, the kobold with breath just about as bad as the gnomes and jankier teeth to boot.

“Clovis… kill… the… kobold! This… is… your… kill…”

“We could just be friends with him,” Clovis suggested, the book now floating off to the left, watching the kobold and me continue to put pressure on one another.

“I don’t want to be your friend. You cut off my tail!”

“Don’t kobolds grow their tails back?” Clovis asked. “You’re pretty much a lizard.”

The kobold ground his teeth as he sent a death glare in Clovis’ direction. “I’m not a lizard!”

Someone had to do it.

Sure, we could have gone back and forth with the kobold for the next few hours doing the old dick measuring contest, but what good would that do? There was a tower that needed climbing, a deadline, and a ton of answers that needed answering.

So I went for a cheap shot.

As the kobold bitched at Clovis, who continued to be, well, Clovis, I used the distraction to my advantage by throwing my shoulder forward and knocking the kobold to the ground. My move would have likely been harder to pull off had the kobold had its tail, but fate was on my side as I used my leverage to bring my axe down onto the kobold.

Several times.

Wham! Wham! Wham!

This eventually killed the kobold, but not without getting both my gnome clothing and my face pretty bloodied up.

It was a dirty deed, but someone had to do it.

****

Clovis floated over to me, and leaned forward with concern as he took in the bludgeoned kobold. “Jesus Christ, Randy.”

“Mad Lad,” I told Clovis as I caught my breath, strands of my long hair now my face. “That’s what I want you to call me when I’m forced to go into beast mode like that. I’ll explain later. Shit!”

The energy that struck me next was as if a supernova had been downloaded into my body. There was something almost cinematic about it, my arms out wide, the power pouring into my body as if I was suddenly possessed. I felt my muscles tightening, a subtle change coming over me, everything seeming brighter for a moment.

Clovis floated a few paces back. “Did you just shit your pants?”

“No, I… I just… I just got another level.”

“Is it like having an orgasm? Because that’s what it looks like.”

“Actually… yeah,” I told him as I exhaled audibly. “You could call it that. And this would have been your level had you killed the kobold.”

“I’m still on the fence about killing things…”

“For fuck’s sake, Clovis. Just… give me a second. Let me see what kind of goodies I got this time around.”

The prompts started up, the announcer’s voice reading them in my head.

Points!

You have gained a level. Welcome, Fresh Meat!

You have no skill points to assign at this time, sorry!

You will receive access to skills when you reach level three.

You will be able to select your first class at Level 5.

Race: Human

Name: Randy Lionheart

Level: 2

Tier: Fresh Meat

HP: 14/14

MP: 0/0

Intelligence: 9

Perception: 7

Stamina: 6

Strength: 9

Dexterity: 12

Defense: 4

Health Regen: 10% per hour

MP Regen: 20% per hour

Skill Points: 0

Armor: Basic Gnome Wear

Weapons: Axl Rose

“Did you hear that voice?” I asked Clovis. “Sort of like a game show host, not Steve Harvey, someone way more generic than that but definitely appropriate for a long career on the Game Show Network.”

“So… you’re hearing two voices now?”

“No, it’s not like that. You need to start listening to the voice in your head, it’s your AI, I promise you. I named mine Lily.”

“I’m pretty sure hearing more than one voice and naming them is a sign of further mental decay, but I could be wrong.” Clovis hovered over to the kobold, as if he wanted to prod him. “Can I… keep his sword?”

“It’ll register in your inventory list as a Sword Token. Wait. How are you going to use his sword? You don’t have hands.”

“That doesn’t make you any better than me.”

“I didn’t imply that.”

The sword disappeared. “Hey, I have an inventory list!”

“Yeah, I already told you that…”

“Oh, great. And now a voice is explaining how to use it.” A wave of turquoise energy rolled from Clovis’ outer spine to his inner pages.

I nearly reached out for him. “Are… are you okay?”

“I think. I was trying to ignore the voice and instead I did some magic. I think that was magic.”

“Looked like magic to me.” I wiped some of the blood from my face onto my sleeve. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. And I really would like to clean this blood off.” I looked to the tree line and noticed something I hadn’t seen before. There were a few pillars of smoke rising above the foliage, and they looked to be less than half a mile away. “Let’s see what that smoke is all about. Maybe it’s a village and if that’s the case,” I winked at Clovis, “it’s time for the two of us to do some shopping.”

“You have actual money?”

I laughed like the Monopoly man or Jeff Bezos when he checks his bank account. “Do I have money? Just you wait, Clovis, just you wait.”

“What about the blood on your face? It does make you look pretty tough, I’ll admit.”

“I should probably clean more of it off.”

Clovis turned back to the kobold and tilted down toward it. “You could use his underwear.”

I took one look at the kobold’s loincloth. “I’m one step ahead of you. This goes without saying, but don’t tell anyone about this.”

Clovis shifted back toward me. “About killing the kobold, or using his loincloth to wipe the blood away?”

“Both. I’m going to say both.”

Chapter Six: Loot or Die, There is No Try (Clovis Gets a Mustache)

The village ahead seemed promising, and it would give us a chance to get a lay of the land before we continued toward the tower, our shared destiny.

Retail therapy was on the agenda now that I had enough Coin to buy Mercer Island and clone a crapload of beefed up Conor McGregors in thick Richard Mille watches to run security on it; date, and be able to afford the high-end designer clothing, trips to islands I’d never heard of, and surgical procedures just in case I felt like changing my identity on a whim (manbun surgery, here we go); and have enough left over to pick up some Berkshire Class A stock just to thumb my nose at investors who still say crypto investing is dodgy.

(Spoiler alert: all investing is dodgy but what the hell else is there to do with money once you reach a certain point?)

(Spoiler alert #2: I was not at that certain point when I went all in on Harmon Tokens.)

What can I say? I am an okay writer according to Clovis, and never was great with math, but I knew enough about exchange rates to know I was up, way up. And the exchange rate of Harmon to LyraCoin had me chomping at the bit as I thought about how I could spend some of my LyraCoin once we reached the village.

For one, I would get rid of this super basic gnome clothing.

Ugh, so basic. I’d go all in, something glamorously cool, with a ton of perks, perhaps some spikes like Spawn had on his shoulder piece, or the single bulky steampunk-adjacent shoulder piece like Cloud Strife rocked, or maybe I’d see if I couldn’t find something that looked like Targaryen armor, swirled crimson dragons and whatnot.

The point was, I had the funds to do it and I was damn sure willing to trade up from my basic gnome clothing.

I would also see what the town blacksmith could do for Axl Rose, not that my axe wasn’t performing, I just had this itching feeling that enemies were going to get harder as we progressed. Could it be sharper? More grimdark? Perhaps I could get ‘Mad Lad’ hand-engraved into the bit? Did it need a tassel, or perhaps some rare fox tail that would give it a magical boost? I mean, just picture yourself in my shoes at this point, breaking even for years (yes, mostly my fault but also the overall career I’d chosen), and then suddenly sent to Genera with more fundage than a Saudi prince.

Looking at Clovis and how disheveled the book was, it was clear that he could benefit from the gentle hand of a conservator as well. I’d certainly fund that, get him cleaned up, or whatever it is someone does to restore a book.

Then there was the token side of the equation. The user interface tokens interested me to no end. What else would they be able to do? What cool features would I be able to unlock? Once we got to the village, I planned to really dig deep into the user interface tokens.

“Stick with me, kid, we’re going places,” I said in my best 1950s gangster movie voice, or maybe the gangster from Home Alone voice. It was trash.

“Do… what?”

“Sorry, trying something out. Look. Once we get to the village, mark my word, Clovis, shit is about to change for the two of us.”

“Oh?”

“By the time I’m done dropping cash, we’ll be ready for the Met Gala. Upgraded axe; new badass knight armor, or maybe something more Call of Duty appropriate, I don’t know; we’ll get your leathery bits nice and oiled, get those pages you keep fumbling around glued back in; hell, I may get a bit of a beard trim.”

“Okay…”

“We’ll have a nice meal,” I told him, feeling my stomach grumble, “and if there are ladies, we’ll wine and dine them too. We’ve earned it. Trust me. I have this feeling that you and I need to unwind.”

“I see. What would… what would a lady, as you put it, do with a book like me?”

I stopped and offered Clovis a calculated nod. “Rule 34, Clovis. It’s a thing.”

“Heh. That voice in your head: have you asked it why we’re here? I keep meaning to ask mine, but I also refuse to respond to the voice.”

I thought back to the conversations I’d already had with Lily. None of them had really centered on why I was here, only what I needed to do in a three-day time limit. A frown formed on my face. My reason for existing and my sudden appearance in Genera should have been the first thing I discussed after doming the gnomes. “Actually, I don’t know why we’re here. Fuck, I feel like an idiot.”

“It’s okay. I don’t know why we’re here either. Sort of the same on Earth, right? If you think about it.”

“Yikes, Clovis, you’re getting way too deep for a silly fantasy adventure like this. All Lily told me was to be at the tower in three days, and that’s what I’m doing. This is a tutorial; and based on other game tutorials I’ve gone through, we’re likely supposed to learn the system and level up as much as we can before we reach there.”

“It’s good to know that you’ll do whatever the voice in your head tells you to do. Way to conform, Randy.”

“At least I listen to the voice in my head,” I told him, which was not really a rabbithole I was prepared to go down. Luckily, he didn’t press my statement. “You know what, I’ll make this simple. I’ll just ask her directly, you’ll see. Lily, why are we here, and what is the point of us being here?”

<All intakes are here for a variety of reasons. The point is to reach the top of the tower.>

“That’s vague…”

“What did she say?”

“That we are here for a variety of reasons and that the point is to reach the top of the tower.” I swept my hand toward the structure, which beckoned us from the distance.

“See? Are you sure that someone else is telling you that and not just the voices speaking? Personally, I feel like I should be more shocked about coming here. I’m not.”

“I’m not either,” I told him. “Weird, right? It’s… maybe it is something we needed. I don’t know. Shit, it’s too early in our story to be looking back and reflecting on the real world. Fuck the real world; let’s just see what Genera has in store for us, get to the top, that’s what… that’s how we push the plot along. Sorry, Clovis, sometimes I think of life in terms of how a novel should be progressing. Anyway, all that to say I’m not as surprised as I thought I would be after being transported to another world. I can’t believe I’m saying this...”

“I think one reason I’m not so shocked to be here is that my life kind of sucked. I’ve said it before, but it’s the truth. So maybe that’s why this place doesn’t bother me so much aside from the ‘getting used to being a spellbook’ part.”

“If we’re being honest, Mine wasn’t so hot either. At least at the moment I was portaled here. Things were looking bleak,” I said, not mentioning the divorce, or just how dire my situation had become.

“What were you doing when you were transported here?” he asked, floating ahead of me, still with the turquoise energy radiating around him, a hanging page or two. I really had the urge to grab him, sit down for a moment, and flip through the pages and figure out what the spellbook he had chosen was about. But I’d also seen what he could do when he unleashed his power and I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that.

Not until I better understood it.

“I was in a sensory deprivation tank. I named it Tanky the Tank. Or maybe it was Tanky McTankface. Either way, I named it.”

“A what?” Clovis asked.

“A sensory deprivation tank, although the staff at the wellness center called it a float tank. I sort of like ‘sensory deprivation tank’ better. It has a cyberpunk ring to it. It’s way more dystopian-sounding than it needs to be. It’s sort of like a futuristic sarcophagus, but for neo-hippies and tech gurus, of which I am not. You get in the tank and float in salt for over an hour, just alone with your thoughts, no distractions. I was in there trying to figure out what I should write next, hoping for that next million-dollar idea, or at least enough to pay some bills for a couple of months. Extreme, I know, but my ideas just haven’t been hitting, not quite writer’s block, but equally as bad. I wanted to get out of my element, and hopefully spark something that could put me back on track. That’s the thing about the kind of art I do. Anyone, really, in the creative field deals with the same thing: we’re only as valuable as our last idea. It’s the most rewarding job in the world when it works, but when it doesn’t… ever heard the term feast or famine?”

“Is that from the Bible?”

“Not that I know of.”

“So you were in this float tank, and then you woke up here.”

“I did.”

“So you succeeded in getting out of your element.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “Maybe? What about you? What were you doing?”

“I was at Cornell.”

“You’re a college student?”

“You know Cornell? It’s the university where Andy went to in The Office.”

“Is that… your only point of reference? It’s an Ivy League school. Everyone knows what it is.”

“Ratan Tata went there.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. My parents just told me that. They’re professors there. I think Kurt Vonnegut went there and the lady who wrote Devil Wears Prada did too. That’s the Cornell I’m talking about.”

“I know what Cornell University is, Clovis.”

“My parents work there.”

“You told me.”

“And I was there because they got me a job there.”

“Doing what?”

“It’s not glamorous.”

“Most jobs aren’t.”

“It was a research study for an investigative medicine. Actually, they didn’t get me the job. I got myself the job. I volunteered. They needed someone for a clinical study on the effect of liraglutide on neural responses to high-fructose corn syrup for overweight individuals, or something. I can’t remember exactly what it was about.”

“It sounds like you remembered it just fine. Are you… overweight?”

“Not any more. But I volunteered anyway. I was in the waiting room awaiting their decision, playing the NieR gacha game on my phone, when I appeared here. As a spellbook.”

“I have… so many questions,” I told Clovis as I spotted an elven man ahead of us. He had a huge bag hoisted on his back and a covering that shielded his body from the sun. The man was in baggy pants and had on a pair of crude leather shoes. He reminded me of that gleeful traveling merchant from Breath of the Wild.

My spirits instantly lifted. It was time to do some shopping.

“Hey!” I called ahead, ignoring Clovis for a moment as I pressed ahead.

The elven merchant slowly started to turn, the scowl on his face flipping once he recognized a potential customer. “Why… hello!” He plopped down to the ground, and as he did the covering over his head magically appeared before him as a carpet, various items already laid out including new clothing, glowing tokens, and other talismans. “Please, take a look, intake!”

Intake? There was that word again.

“Are we shopping?” Clovis asked as he stopped next to me, hovering at about shoulder height.

“We sure as hell are. Let me do the talking,” I said as I returned my focus to the merchant. “I guess we should just get right down to it. I’m looking for some new clothing, and I’d love to know more about your tokens. Also, the amulet, it looks interesting,” I said as I went for the first shiny piece I could find, which featured a bit of jade attached to a black strip of leather, text appearing before me.

Item name: Jade Necklace (Rare)

Armor Rating: 1

Perks: Grants an additional 5 Strength Points

Five strength points? I thought, remembering that I didn’t even have ten points at the moment. Wearing this amulet would definitely make swinging Axl Rose like a true Mad Lad that much easier.

“Holy shitballs, Clovis, this necklace is the tits. Do you think it would look good on me?”

“What?” the merchant asked, Clovis already laughing at the phrase I’d manage to cobble together on a whim.

“I mean, I’ll take it. I can get LyraCoin; just let me know what the necklace costs, and how to transfer it to you.”

“LyraCoin?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Yeah, you know, the money you people use here.”

“You people?” His lips started to curl.

“Wait, not, shit, not like that! I mean, the people of Genera, elves, and whatnot. LyraCoin, you know.” I accessed my digital wallet and saw all those beautiful Harmon Tokens, nearly a million.

Harmon Tokens _ _ _ _ _ 929,673

Bitcoin (BTC) _ _ _ _ _ 0

Ethereum (ETH) _ _ _ _ _ 0

Dogcoin (DOGE) _ _ _ _ _ 0

Cardano (ADA) _ _ _ _ _  0

Solana (Sol)_ _ _ _ _  0

USD Coin (USDC) _ _ _ _ _  0

LyraCoin _ _ _ _ _ 0

An icon appeared, letting me know I could easily swap them for LyraCoin. Even better, there were no fees to do so. “Lyra, LyraCoin. Same difference, but the little lyra I do have doesn’t register in my digital wallet. I’m guessing this next statement doesn’t make sense, but it is like actual US Dollars and USD Coins. It’s a straight swap, if that makes sense.”

The merchant ground his teeth for a moment, his disposition continuing to sour. “I don’t think you heard me. I take Lyra; there is no such thing as LyraCoin.”

I summoned my digital wallet yet again just to confirm I wasn’t crazy. There it was, LyraCoin. “It’s a stablecoin. It exists.”

“That kind of money isn’t welcome here,” he said.

“Isn’t welcome? So you do know what it is then.”

“I don’t know what it is,” Clovis chimed in. “If that helps.”

“Give me just a second.” I turned around, hoping to buy myself a moment to speak to my companion AI. “Lily, I thought you said I was rich.”

<Hello, Randy. I never said you were rich.>

“But I have all these Harmon Tokens, and I can exchange them for LyraCoin. The exchange rate is 1 Harmon Token to 6,500 LyraCoins. So…?”

<That is correct.>

“It hasn’t fluctuated then, weird. That’s definitely not like real crypto, but I digress. That’s what the people here use, right?”

<LyraCoin isn’t used outside of the tower, and it doesn’t fluctuate in value here. Many outsiders are actively against the adoption of a cryptocurrency.>

The revelation hit me.

“So… I’m technically penniless?”

And then the next revelation hit me.

Again?

<You have Harmon Tokens, so you aren’t penniless. But your Harmon Tokens aren’t worth anything here, I’m sorry. Earlier, after you fought the gnomes, you could have taken items from them to exchange with this merchant, but you decided not to.>

“Shit… shit…” I mumbled. If ever there was a reason to get to the tower, and start climbing floors, this was it.

“What is it?” Clovis asked. “Is the voice in your head yelling at you? Is this about crypto? You know, I had an uncle who paid for a pizza with like ten thousand Bitcoins.”

“No you didn’t. That’s someone else’s story.”

“Wait. You know that story?”

“Everyone does.”

“My uncle must have been lying to me!”

“Not now, Clovis,” I said as I turned back to the elven merchant.

My stomach knotted up, a feeling I was all too familiar with when it came to being broke. It wasn’t as much from hunger, although it always could tilt that way, but more from fear of not having money in the future. There had been several times in my life when I had been flat broke, but I had always bounced back. I hated how these periods came with this feeling of worthlessness, as if the lack of money made me any less of a person.

I turned back to the elven merchant and lowered my head to some degree. “It looks like I don’t have any money, unless you take LyraCoin.”

“You… you made me set all my things up.”

“It seemed pretty easy for you to do…”

“You don’t know that!” He snapped at me. “This is why I hate it every time intakes come around.”

“Hate is a strong word,” Clovis said in a disinterested voice. “Do you have anything that’s free? We’ll take something for free.”

A grin cracked across my face. The best part about what Clovis had just said was that he actually meant it. He really was that bad at reading people.

“Free? You’re lucky I don’t use your pages for toilet paper!” The merchant got to his feet, and as he did the carpet and all his wares magically disappeared, the man flaming mad by the time his gear was on his back again. “You’ve wasted my time.”

“I can…” I remembered the Instant Muck Token I had in my inventory list. “I can trade my Instant Muck Token for something.”

“Instant Muck Token?” The merchant shouldered past me. “Curse you! Wasting my bloody time. I hope you choke on that muck in your sleep, intake.”

Clovis and I watched him storm off, the elven merchant nearly tripping over a root and then kicking a stump.

“He’s an angry elf,” I said, hoping Clovis had picked up on the famous Christmas movie line.

Clovis shrugged his pages. “I wonder what he was so angry about.”

****

The bramble grew thicker as Clovis and I continued toward the lines of smoke. Figuring it would be good for both of us to get a little more info, I quizzed Lily along the way, starting with what I felt was a pretty common sense question.

“Lily, are we trapped here in Genera?”

<No, you are not technically trapped.>

“What did she say?” asked Clovis.

“At least let me get some answers before you start jumping in with questions. You could always ask your own companion AI…” I returned my focus to Lily. “So we aren’t trapped, but we… can’t log out? Because, I’ve got to be honest, as a writer, I find that way too tropey.”

“As a fantasy reader, I do too.”

“And as a book you probably should as well. Well? Lily?”

<There are tokens that allow you to access a logout button. You are also given the option to logout if you climb all of the floors and reach the top of the tower. I cannot comment on your chosen profession.>

“What’s at the top of the tower exactly, do you know?”

<I’m not given that information, Randy, but I do know that if you make it through all seven realms, and their various floors, that you will be presented with several options. One of those options will be to leave Genera.>

“Seven realms, various floors? How many floors are we talking per realm?”

Clovis tilted up as if he were thinking. “Wait a minute, is this like Tower of God?”

<The first realm has five floors. More details about the Second Realm will become available once you make it through the first.>

“Right, I figured you’d say something like that,” I told her. “Who will give me these options if and when we reach the top? I mean, is there a game master here, or something of the sort?”

<Satoshi will give you those options.>

I stopped walking and turned to Clovis as if he’d heard Lily’s revelation. “Did you say Satoshi?”

“Who’s Satoshi?”

“He’s… it’s… look, the history is a bit convoluted, but Satoshi is rumored to be a Japanese person, or a collection of people, that created Bitcoin and the first blockchain. No one knows if he exists, who he is, that sort of thing. He could also be Australian. Who knows?”

“Crypto is a risky investment. I meant to tell you that back there with that elfy merchant.”

“So I’ve been told, and I agree for the most part. You asked who Satoshi was, and that’s who he, or she or they are. Lily just told me that Satoshi awaits us at the top of the tower.”

<Satoshi awaits only one of you.>

Once the bramble grew even thicker, I used Axl Rose to continue hacking a clear path toward the village. As I did so, I processed what Lily had just relayed to me. Did this mean that we couldn’t team up? I hadn’t known Clovis for very long at this point, but he was already starting to grow on me, like a mushroom, or perhaps a cancer, but he was certainly benign.

“What do you mean by only one of us?” I asked Lily as we started up a forested hill. “You’re not implying one of us is destined or anything, are you? Because that’s sort of what it sounds like, but maybe I write and read too much fiction.”

<Only one ascendant can accept the reward.>

“Ascendant? I thought I was an intake.”

<You are an intake until you reach the First Realm. Then you become an ascendant.>

“What do you mean by intake, exactly? Been meaning to hash that out as well.” Truth be told, I continued to have more and more questions come to me faster than I could get them out. I suppose that sort of comes with the territory where you’re constantly having to deal with new challenges.

<You have already encountered two people from your intake, Clovis and Lothan.>

“And these are the people who I’m competing against?”

<You aren’t competing against them at the moment. Oftentimes, new intakes team up and work together to reach the higher realms. To make this more efficient, you should seek to acquire a Guild Token. I’m afraid this is all I can say about this at the moment.>

I didn’t like it. What had just moments ago seemed like a perfect comedy adventure for the ages—Clovis and Yours Truly and whoever else we ended up meeting along the way—had morphed into something that could ultimately end in a tragedy.

As we reached the top of the hill, I looked down to see that the village was on fire, all of the thatched roofs ablaze, and a single white llama heading in our direction.

“It’s like Peru,” Clovis said as he floated up next to me and examined the burning village below.

“Why the hell would you say that?”

“Because of the llama, like in Dungeon Crawler Carl. Maybe you’ll get to stomp something with your bare feet.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Did you ever see the movie Llamageddon?”

“Clovis, not now.”

Honestly, I would have ignored the shabby llama had it not insisted on moving in my direction as I rushed down to the village. I wasn’t a Boy Scout, dammit, I was a Mad Lad, but if there were villagers in those homes, or some other way I could help, especially with my trusty axe, I was going to do my damnedest to be of assistance.

And then the llama spat at me.

Not only that, I had managed to circle around it yet the spit hit me in the face, which told me this was no ordinary llama. I turned back to it, and as I did smoke began to pour out of its ears and its ass, the llama forming into what I would classify as a disheveled wizard, beardy, unkempt, with a mischievous look on his face, his eyes a pale blue.

“It’s a homeless man, Randy.” Clovis was by my side once again, a page dangerously close to falling out of his body. Rather than let it fall, I grabbed the page, noticed that it was blank, and stuffed it back into Clovis. “Hey!”

“Hello new intakes!” said the wizard in a stereotypical medieval accent. Gandalf-living-in-a-van-down-by-the-river coughed into his hand and offered me a phlegmy handshake.

I eyed it warily.

I wouldn’t have minded shaking the hand of an unkempt wizard a few years back, I mean, I’d been to DragonCon late at night plus a few too many trippy Portland Halloween parties. But this was all happening post-2020 and yeah, I had my suspicions.

“Nice to meet you,” I told him, going for the fistbump instead. The wizard didn’t seem to mind. “The name is Randy—the noun not the adjective—and the book is Clovis.”

“I’m Clovis.”

“Randy and Clovis, eh? I know exactly who you are! The challenge begins!”

“The challenge?”

“Weren’t you just a llama?” Clovis asked the wizard, who had eyebrows that were so bushy that I could barely see his beady little eyes.

“Indeed I was! The name is Drozard, and I’m here to offer you your first challenge.”

Challenge!

I was practically tossed sideways by the gameshow host voice.

Lily’s spoke next:

<Complete Drozard’s challenge to gain a level and continue toward the tower.>

“Is this part of the tutorial?” I asked under my breath.

<Yes, that is correct.>

“What… what the hell happened here?” I pointed my axe at Drozard. “You didn’t burn this village down did you?”

He started to laugh, his teeth yellow and crooked. Eventually, Clovis started laughing with him as well. (Fucking Clovis, I swear…)

“Of course, I burned down this village! I do it for each new intake. Then, I make the village whole again. It’s a loot challenge, my boy! Surely by now you have come to understand why you are here.”

“Not in the least bit.”

“We are supposed to get to the tower and climb it, but I don’t know why,” said Clovis, tilting toward me. “He was supposed to tell me, but he hasn’t explained the rules yet.”

Drozard continued as if Clovis hadn’t interrupted him. “Nevermind that. There are bodies all over the village, homunculi that I have summoned. Most should be dead, don’t worry there! Your goal is to loot as many as you can in the next two minutes and twenty-two seconds. Twenty-one seconds…”

“Were we supposed to be looting this entire time?”

“Twenty seconds…”

“Let’s move, Clovis!” Taking my own advice, I took off toward the village, unaware of what the point of the challenge was. Luckily, Drozard caught up with me on the left, floating, the ends of his tattered robe trailing behind him.

“I will reward you based on what you loot. Good luck! And don’t get burned or die. Sadly, people have died before. Where…?” He stopped floating and I did the same, both of us looking back to see Clovis, who remained stationary. “Ah, there’s your companion.”

“Clovis, get your ass over here, we got to loot some shit!”

Is he really that fast? I thought as Clovis flashed in front of me, as if he’d been there all along.

“Wait… how did I do that?”

“We’re wasting precious time, Clovis, come on!”

I shouldered into the first burning house to find a dead homunculus. A box appeared before me telling me that he didn’t have any loot. Come on, come on, I thought as I pressed into another room, fire crackling around me, a joist above already starting to split.

Another lootable body caught my attention. As I approached it, the homunculus came awake, laughed, and then died.

Fucking Drozard, I thought as the floating box appeared, letting me know this one didn’t have any loot.

Crack!

The floor gave way, the ceiling caving in, and several flaming boards nearly sending me to an early grave.

It should have happened right then and there. My death should have been swift and entirely stupid considering I’d rushed into a house looking for loot on a challenge given to me by a crackhead wizard.

But instead of instant death, I landed in the basement with an oomph!, then sub-basement, then sub-sub-basement, then the ground itself gave way and I was falling toward a pit of lava. By sheer luck, and perhaps a nod to my twelve points in Dexterity thank-you-very-much, I managed to grab hold of a board that had been pinned down by a fiery support beam.

“Holy shit!”

The lava popped and boiled below, and I was pretty sure I’d seen something move beneath its surface. Whatever this place was, a reservoir of lava, an underground pit of hell, Texas during the summer, my antics seemed to please Drozard to no end. The wizard appeared next to me, the tips of his beard on fire.

“You have under two minutes left, Randy...”

“What the fuck!? Seriously, help me, help! Clovis!” I shouted, even if I was nearly one hundred percent certain that he would be useless in a situation like this. “Don’t just watch me dangle here, help!”

“If you die, you won’t win this challenge, Randy. Good luck!” And with that shitbird of a statement, Drozard vanished.

It took me a second to get my bearings, but something about not wanting to die just yet forced a plan into action. I managed to swing myself forward with one hand. As I sailed through the air, I drove Axl Rose into a hanging stone.

Of course, this didn’t work, but I hit it so hard that I managed to send myself toward the outer wall of the hole’s opening, and this time I was able to scramble onto a ledge and keep myself from plummeting to my death.

Not only could I feel the heat, not only did it feel like every single nerve in my body was firing at once, there was also the smoke, which was starting to make me feel dizzy.

Climb, Randy, climb…

Had I not had stats, my Dex and Strength, I most certainly would have met the fate of an ancient citizen of Pompeii. It would have been a fast death, sudden too. Yet there I was, climbing up through the hole I’d fallen through just moments ago. I reached the sub sub basement, where I was able to squat for just a moment, blink a few times, and take another look at my surroundings.

Is that... a treasure chest? There were several boards crossed behind me, but I could have sworn I saw the glint of something back there, and it looked like there was just enough room for me to crawl beneath one of the boards and reach it.

So I went for it. I’d almost been baked in a tandoori oven just moments ago and I was feeling bold, Axl Rose still in my hand as I crawled forward on my belly.

Boy, had I been lucky, and not just for the fact that I’d managed to climb to safety using ledges, but because of my background. Remember earlier when I said I was sort of a nature guy? I think I said that. If not, here’s me saying it. I’d actually gone climbing before, and I’d even been spelunking, which made what I was doing now a cinch.

I would say now would be a good time to remind people that it is important to lead an active lifestyle and challenge yourself every now and then even if most people don’t find themselves isekai’d to a place where these sorts of skills actually come in handy. Generally, you’ll never have to Tom Cruise your way up the side of a building, nor would a rejected thrift store llama morph into a half-baked wizard and offer you a challenge that left you dangling above a pit of lava.

But without those skills, you also wouldn’t find yourself crouched in front of a treasure box with a sick-looking skull carved in the metal latch.

“Hello, hello, hello…” I said as I popped the chest open, a token floating out. A golden flame sparked around the sphere, morphing into a dragon as it twisted around the token.

Logout Token (Legendary)

Allows you to add a single-use Logout button to your user interface.

“Isn’t this the token you were telling me about?”

<A Logout Token will allow you to leave Genera if you so wish.>

“Nice!”

Amped up by my find, I dropped back to my belly and crawled under the boards yet again. I continued up to the sub-basement from there, and then the basement, and finally the ground level. My exit was clear, and I was just about to kick through a shoddy wall and get a true breath of fresh air when a flaming homunculus lunged for me.

“Not today, motherfucker!” I swung at the homunculus, cutting off a piece of its head, which also continued to burn once it hit the ground. It was like fighting a Hollywood stunt double who had lit himself on fire, the flames coming off in waves, super cinematic, and also painful as I got burned twice in the time it took me to land another hit.

The homunculus, who was now missing an arm and a portion of its head, lunged for me yet again.

“Aye!” I screamed like a Nicaraguan schoolgirl and kicked at the flaming homunculus, the creature gnashing what was sort of its jaw as it tried to overpower me. I managed to scoot far enough away from it that I could get back to my feet and finish what I had started.

Whack!

The homunculus fell backward, a burst of fire leaving its face as it settled on the ground. Upon approaching it, mostly to make sure I had killed the bastard, I was greeted by a window letting me know that I’d received another token.

“Flight Token?” I asked. “Does that mean what I think it means, Lily?”

<Yes, with this token you will be able to fly.>

Flight Token (Ultra Rare)

Using this token will allow you to fly without the usage of mana or learning the Flight skill.

Maybe Drozard isn’t so bad, I thought as I stepped outside and spotted the wizard in the center of the village. Clovis was already floating in front of him, apparently done with the loot-a-thon. I tore off in their direction, but then I noticed another lifeless homunculus sticking out of a toppled wheelbarrow as if someone had shoved it in. Since time hadn’t been called yet, I wound my way toward it, yet another loot window appearing.

“Seriously?” I asked as I read the token’s description. “LyraCoin to Lyra Token?”

LyraCoin to Lyra Instant Swap Token (Legendary)

Add the ability to instantly convert LyraCoin to Lyra Token within your digital wallet.

I pumped my fist in the air. Cash money inbound. I could finally afford the gold chains, the presidential suites, private helicopters, business-class trips, and more importantly—all jokes aside, most importantly—I could just write whatever I wanted to write without having to worry about making a living at it.

All I had to do now was deal with the wizard.

****

“Clovis, Drozard,” I said once I reached the two of them, tilting a hat I wasn’t wearing in both their directions. “Hey guys!”

“Hey, Angel Farts.”

“And… time!” Drozard clapped his hands together, glitter raining down from the sky as a horn sounded off somewhere.

Points!

You have gained a level.

You now have skill points.

You will be able to select your first class at Level 5. You are now able to learn what stat points you have received.

+2 Stamina!

+1 Strength!

+1 Dexterity!

+2 Skill Points!

Race: Human

Name: Randy Lionheart

Level: 3

Tier: Fresh Meat

HP: 16/16

MP: 5/5

Intelligence: 9

Perception: 8

Stamina:8

Strength:10

Dexterity:13

Defense: 4

Health Regen: 10% per hour

MP Regen: 20% per hour

Skill Points: 2

Armor: Basic Gnome Wear

Weapons:Axl Rose

The information fizzled away once Drozard extended his arms wide. He rose into the air, all of the burning homes, homunculus, and the cavernous lava pit below warping into the sleeves of his robes. “Good work, both of you!”

Clovis spiraled, as if he were dizzy. “So many voices…”

“Clovis, did you gain a level?”

“I think…?”

“Nice! You really need to listen to the voice in your head! That’s important info, and also, the name is Randy, not—”

“—Ahem!” The bearded wizard leaned forward and gestured toward himself, beckoning our attention.

“Sorry about that,” I told him. “So… these tokens. I guess I should just come right out and ask it: do I get to keep them? And if not, please?”

“You looted tokens?”

I turned to Clovis. “You didn’t?”

“I got a garter belt, a clove of garlic, an old boot, and a mustache.”

“You… didn’t get any tokens? That’s literally all I got, sick ones too. Wait, did you say you got a mustache?”

“Yes, but not a Hitler one.”

I gave Clovis a funny look. “What makes you think I thought you got a Hitler mustache? Relatedly, do you remember when Michael Jordan tried to pull that look off?”

“The actor from Black Panther?”

“What? No, not… nevermind, Clovis. You seriously didn’t get any tokens?”

“I told you what I got.”

“Gentlemen, please! We can debate the merits of our looting and what having a mustache means about us as individuals at a later date.” Drozard lowered until he was just about one inch off the ground. “You’ve done well, intakes! For one, you didn’t die,” he said, looking at me. “And you didn’t put yourself in a situation where you could have died,” he told Clovis, “which is also admirable. You’d be surprised how many new intakes die at this point, before they can even think of reaching the tower and climbing its floors. Now, as for your rewards…”

“I’m good with keeping the tokens.”

“I’m sure, Randy, and you’ve managed to find very good ones. I know… I have just the thing for you!” Drozard turned his palm around, and with a poof of unnecessarily colorful smoke, a belt and a scabbard appeared. “For your axe. You can’t just go around everywhere holding it in your hand like a buffoon, and keeping it in your inventory list will take up space.”

I took the belt and scabbard from him. “But I get to keep the tokens I looted, right?”

He grinned at me. “Nope, they’re already gone from your inventory list. Thank you for retrieving them, however. Heh. I’ve been looking for those ones.”

“No…” Sure enough, accessing my inventory list left me with a sinking feeling in my chest. The three tokens were gone, but I still had the Instant Muck Token.

Agitation bloomed within me. “What the hell, man?”

“Not happy?” Drozard asked, his lips forming into a pout. “Very well, I’ll give you a token in exchange for the three, one that will prove useful to a clever intake such as yourself.”

Enemy Analyzer Token (Common)

Allows you to see the levels of your enemies and their health bars. You must be challenged or challenge an enemy before this data is made available. This data is not available for intakes or other ascendants.

<Would you like to assign the token to your user interface?>

“Yes,” I told Lily, “and why didn’t you ask me that about the others?”

<I’m sorry, Randy, that wasn’t an option for those tokens.>

Clovis suddenly seemed dejected. “Do I at least get to keep the mustache, Mr. Wizard?”

“I’m afraid not, Clovis, but I do have something very special for you.” Drozard procured a ribbon marker.

“Is that a choker necklace? I don’t have a neck.”

“No, it’s a bookmark, my boy!”

“I believe that is called a ribbon marker,” I told Clovis, but I could be wrong. I was seething by this point, and it was leading me down the dark path of pedantry. It was clear that the wizard had taken advantage of us.

“You are a floating spellbook, are you not?”

“I am,” Clovis told Drozard.

“Then perhaps this will be of some use to you.” The wizard sent the ribbon marker over to Clovis, who snapped shut, the bookmark disappearing. “Gentlemen,” he said, bowing toward both of us, “it has been quite the honor. We will meet again, and rest assured, you will also meet my counterpart at some point as well. Her name is Drizzy, and she will be most excited to meet two new intakes such as yourself. Until then, I wish you both luck!” Drozard began to fade away.

“What happened to his llama?” Clovis asked after the wizard had officially disappeared.

I kicked at a stone, noticed then that I was gripping my axe so tightly that my knuckles were white. “Fuck that wizard.”

“He wasn’t so bad. He gave me a ribbon marker.” Clovis proceeded to look around for a moment, his pager shuffling. “I think I may have already lost it.”

“Let’s… let’s just continue on to the tower. We’ve got to reach it so we can begin scaling the floors. Hopefully, we’ll come across some food along the way.”

“Maybe we’ll even see Drozard again.”

“God, I hope not.” I turned to the book. “I seriously had three rare tokens, not one, three, Clovis. I would have been so OP. All this would have been so much easier. Even just one of them would have been helpful, like the one that allowed me to fly.”

“I can already fly.”

“Another would have allowed me to logout.”

“Is that something you want to do?”

“Undecided. I’m enjoying myself, but it’s always nice to have that option, and I don’t want to spend my time in a fantasy world roaming around getting scammed by wizards, berated by gnomes, and tricked by dark elves. Besides, we don’t yet know what is in store for us at the tower. It could be some serious Squid Game shit.”

“Or Hunger Games.”

My belly rumbled in response. “This guy gets it.”

“What would the third token have done?”

“The third token would have allowed me to exchange my LyraCoin for actual money,” I told him, not getting into a discussion how I would first have to convert Harmon Tokens into LyraCoin.

“US Dollars?”

“No, Lyra. What good would dollars do us here in Genera?”

“Is that the name of this place?” Clovis shifted, taking a look around. As if it were mocking us, the tower loomed in the distance, its crown well above the top of the treeline. What would happen once we reached it? Would this wretched tutorial ever end? All jokes aside, how difficult would the floors be?

“Yes, Clovis, we’re in Genera.”

“Maybe Drozard will let you keep the tokens next time we see him.”

“I seriously doubt that.” I kicked another stone away. “Fine, I’m over it now. But I will say this: next time, we need to be the ones to trick Drozard, rather than the other way around. We can’t let the people, creatures, races, whatever, of Genera continue to fuck us over. I have a feeling it’s only going to get worse…”

“How are we going to do that?”

“Well, for one, in gamer parlance—thank-you-very-much—we need to git gud. We need to gain some levels and get smarter, figure out the system, get our classes, etcetera. On a side note, I wish it worked that way in real life, right? Just go out and do something and get smarter. Although, I guess it sort of works that way, but you know what I’m saying.”

“Not really.”

Fucking Clovis…

“We have to seriously improve our game, Clovis. Both of us have an intelligence stat, and the higher it goes, the easier it will be to trick Drozard next time we encounter him. Not only that, there are other stats we can get. I already got, and lost, a Luck Token.”

“Good token for Vegas, not a good token for Randy.”

“My thoughts exactly. But there may be more, something like a Charisma Token, or shit, a Deception Token, both of which would allow one of us to modify our user interface. Plus Lily says there’s a Guild Token.”

“You’d... guild up with me?” Clovis looked directly at me, and while he didn’t have a face, I felt for a moment like he did. A page started to slip out of him.

“Of course, I would. Don’t worry about that part. It doesn’t look like it’s going to be easy once we start climbing the floors of the tower. Better to have a companion,” I said, not mentioning the part that Lily told me, that only one person could reach the top. We could address that later. “As for now, I need to find something to eat. I’m starving. I know you don’t have a mouth, but things are going to get dire if I don’t get some fuel. But before we do that, I need to figure out what I can do with these two skill points...”

Chapter Seven: Revenge of the Gnomes

When you boil it down, everything in life, and apparently in Genera, is some sort of bait-and-switch. Case in point: while hungry, I was stoked as hell to be able to do something with the whopping two skill points I’d received from completing Drozard’s half-baked challenge. Sure, it was only two measly points, but I should have been able to get something, and it would take my focus off the hunger pangs I was experiencing.

Great, right?

Not the case.

<Skills start at three points and work their way up from there. More skills will be available to you once you are able to select your first class.>

“For fuck’s sake, Lily,” I mumbled, even if this wasn’t her fault. “Can you at least explain the classification system?”

<Your classification is related to the weapon that you chose upon arriving in Genera. Since you have chosen an axe as your primary weapon, you will be granted one of the various combat classifications. There are two to choose from once you reach Level 5. They are Barbarian and Fighter.>

“How original. Isn’t a barbarian essentially a fighter?”

“Are these loaded questions?” asked Clovis, who floated alongside me, only hearing one side of the conversation.

“I’m trying to figure out what the hell is going on here, Clovis. Someone has to. I’ll key you in later.”

“Sounds good to me!”

<A Fighter isn’t as strong as a Barbarian, but fighters are able to use multiple weapons. At Level 15, you will be able to take on an additional classification, but your abilities for this second classification will be limited.>

“Multiclass at Level 15, huh? Then I could be, I don’t know, a spellsword?”

“You mean spellaxe, right?” asked Clovis.

“Sure.”

<Yes, you could have your first classification as Barbarian and your second classification related to one of the spell classes.>

“So…” It dawned on me how this would work, at least in a way. “At least multiclassing is possible. And do I get a third classification?”

<Yes, the next classification is obtained at Level 45.>

“Quite the jump…” We came to a bubbling brook, the water fresh enough that I actually bent down and drank from it. It was good, but it did little to satiate my hunger. “We’ve got to find us some food, Clovis.”

“I’m fine.”

“How would you eat anyway?”

“I have a gluten allergy, so that could make things complicated.”

“In that case, maybe becoming a book was a good choice for you. A Level One spellbook, I should add. Still ignoring the voice?”

He nodded as only a floating spellbook can, Clovis nearly losing a page.

“But you have stats now, right?”

“Yeah, they said something about that.”

“Your AI isn’t a British lady?”

Clovis shrugged. “I’m not assigning a gender at the moment.”

“Suit yourself. So, I’m going to go out on a limb and say you have quite a bit of mana, you know, MP. Dang, I wish I could see what you’re working with.”

“More MP than HP, yes.”

“So you’re definitely magical.”

“Not only that, I clearly have alien hand syndrome.”

I paused to look up at him, a bit of water dripping from my beard. “You never explained what that was.”

“Alien hand syndrome is a phenomenon in which one hand is not under the control of the mind. My uncle had it after his stroke.”

“Holy shit, Clovis, you shouldn’t say you have something like that without a clinical diagnosis. That sounds like some serious shit.”

“How else would I randomly be emitting laser beams?” he asked, referring to how he had freed me from the muck not so long ago. It felt like ages ago, but it couldn’t have been more than an hour or two.

No wonder I was hungry. It had been a rough afternoon.

“Yeah, I guess you have a point…”

“I’m just going to call it alien hand syndrome for now until I can get a proper diagnosis.”

Your issue may have something to do with all the pages that are sticking out of your body… I thought. I had a feeling that I would do well to get to know Clovis better before making a suggestion to tuck in his pages. Hell, if I could just get him to trust his AI companion, I’d be happy.

“Token, tokens, tokens,” I said, changing the subject. “That should be our number one goal, aside from getting to the tower and starting our climb.”

“So number two?”

“Who does number two work for?” I asked, hoping to elicit a laugh from Clovis through my late 90s movie reference. Once he didn’t laugh, I cleared my throat and continued: “Like I was saying, tokens, tokens, and more tokens. They’re crazier than I originally thought. They can modify our basic stats, grant us all sorts of powers not associated with our classifications, plus we can buy, sell, and trade them.”

“You have a classification?”

I quickly launched into an explanation of everything I’d learned up until this point, and was nearly done regurgitating what little I knew when I noticed a rustling in the brush around us.

“Clovis—!”

I lunged for the book just as a small horde of camoed gnomes exploded out of the forest. They quickly surrounded us. Clovis floated behind me, confused as always as I withdrew my axe from its breakaway sheath and began swatting at the gnomes. “Get back, assholes! Back!”

<Kill the gnomes and proceed to the tower.>

The adrenaline raced through me as I counted seven gnomes, these ones much bulkier than their counterparts from earlier. They were all taller, and if the ones before had hit the gym on occasion, these guys were supplement-pounding beefcakes, several of them carrying clubs, the group dressed in head-to-toe black, including their cone-shaped hats, paint smeared across their faces as if they were about to hunt the Predator.

This was a straight-up hit squad.

“Are these your friends from earlier?” Clovis asked, oblivious to the threat. He was apparently terrible with body language, the spellbook floating there as if we’d just arrived at the company picnic and these were his workmates.

“Friends?” I ran Axl Rose through the air, nearly grazing a gnome who had gotten too close. All of them growled in high-pitch voices, a few frothing at the mouth, their actions at odds with the fact that gnomes are supposed to be friendly, closer to angels than Hell’s Angels.

Not this bunch.

“You’re going to pay for what you did earlier!” said a gnome who was grinding his teeth as if he were coming down from an all-night meth binge, his nostrils red like the Wolf of Wall Street, his eyes bloodshot, brow so furrowed that it resembled a ski slope.

I should have known there would be more of them.

Several gnomes flew out of the trees and slammed into me. My face met the ground, and I nearly bit my tongue off as I struggled to knee and elbow my way to safety. A couple of the gnomes pinned my axe arm, but they forgot to pin down my other arm, allowing me to get a few solid punches in before they started stomping me.

“Clovis!”

Struggling to fight the bunch off was no use, their bodies covering me, the gnomes using every dirty trick in the book, from scratching to biting me, tickling, kicking at me, and trying to get a grip on my proof of manhood.

(I still don’t know which gnome had taken it upon himself to grab my balls, squeeze and twist, but if I ever find him…)

Wham!

One of the gnomes tried to strike me in the head with his club and ended up clipping my shoulder and chest. The pain was unlike anything I’d ever experienced, and thinking about it produced a quick flash of my HP.

I had already dropped seven points, from sixteen points to nine…

Shit!

Something else became apparent as I continued to struggle.

The drop in my HP came coupled with reduced energy, my muscles screaming as I kicked and tried to elbow my way out of the pile of gnomes, everything on the periphery starting to blur.

This was what it was truly like to have my ass handed to me.

I’d written dozens of fight scenes. I’d read books on writing believable fight scenes, been in a few scuffs myself, and I’d watched enough backyard swordsmen on YouTube to have a second career at any Renaissance Faire in America if the writing thing didn’t pan out (which it currently wasn’t).

Nothing had prepared me for what I was experiencing now, the overwhelming nature of it all, the pounding, the pain. But I had to survive this. There was no way in hell I was going down in a gnome dogpile. If I had to fight a dragon later on, sure, that would be a way to die, especially for a down-on-his-luck fantasy writer, but fuck these gnomes.

I call upon the powers of the Mad Lad!

No, I didn’t scream this aloud, but I did think it, and as stupid as it was, it helped to some degree. I began squirming my way out of the pile of gnomes, blasted with nasty smells and hot stanky breaths as I finally pushed free. I saw Clovis panicking, his pages fluttering as he tried to conjure his power.

“Clovis!” I shouted, reaching out for him. “Just… help!”

For once, we were on the same wavelength.

Clovis swooped down to my hands and snapped shut. I launched myself in his direction and grabbed hold of the spellbook. As soon as I did, he yanked me out of the pile of gnomes, sending several of them scattering.

Even with my added weight, Clovis managed to get several feet in the air before one of the taller gnomes latched onto my leg. I kicked at him, Clovis moving higher and higher into the air.

“Keep going, Clovis! Fly! Fly!”

“Those gnomes are not friendly!”

“No shit, Clovis… just… just keep going!”

At about fifty feet up, Clovis began to putter out like the 1983 Toyota Corolla I once owned. He lurched forward, and dipped twice before stabilizing.

“Randy… Randy!”

“Clovis, just focus, dammit, keep going! You can do it!”

“We have a problem!”

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAMMMMMMMMMMM!

Clovis flapped open and emitted a blistering burst of energy, which seared the ends of my fingertips. That wasn’t all. His lack of control over his power had a way of throwing both of us off balance, and with the tips of my fingers burning, I wasn’t able to hold onto the spellbook any longer.

Thud!

I hit the ground like a brick tossed out a window of the Empire State Building. Clovis landed somewhere around me (I think), and that was all he wrote.

There was no way in hell either of us was getting up from a fall like that.

Chapter Eight: Almost Bludgeoned in a Dungeon

Everything was dark by the time I awoke, my body aching, my head throbbing, my mouth dry. Yuck.

“Rer-ree…” I said, only then realizing that the gnomes had gagged and blindfolded me, not to mention the cold hard steel cuffing my hands behind my back. There was a smell too, one of stone and sweat, panic setting in almost immediately.

Maybe some people would be into something like this. There is a whole set of people that love to be bound and blindfolded, and there is a set of readers that would maybe like to read about those kinds of things. But I am neither of those people, and aside from the trash lit work I did as Angel Farts (regardless if Clovis says it is okay—don’t listen to him), this was by far the worst thing that had happened to me in Genera.

Yet.

And mostly because I didn’t know where I was, I was entirely restrained, and I had no idea where Axl Rose or Clovis were, my haggard, writerly ass without my weapon of choice and the misguided spellbook who was slowly becoming my ride-or-die.

“Roe-riss…” I tried to say, the gag with a salty, jockstrap taste to it that made me want to, well, gag. “Roe-riss…”

<You have two days to reach the tower. Once you reach the tower, you will join the first floor of the First Realm.>

“Roo-riss? Rer-ree? Rer-ree, relp!”

<I’m sorry, Randy. I’m not able to interfere at this time. You have two days to get to the tower.>

Two days? Had I been out that long?

“Rare ram rye?”

<The gnomes have taken you to one of their dungeons along the outer rim of the tower.>

“Roe-riss?”

<Clovis is here as well, as far as I know.>

I heard the sound of a set of keys. A door opened, followed by the sound of leather boots on stone tile.

“Time for your breakfast, intake,” came a high-pitched voice. What followed was yet another reason why I would never trust a gnome again. Some sort of lumpy lukewarm porridge was dumped on my head, which triggered the Mad Lad within.

I’d seen people do it in movies and TV shows, a handcuffed guy or lady using their head and body to take someone down, where they proceeded to go ballistic in an effort of self-perseverance. It didn’t seem realistic; hell, I had even written scenes in which someone got out of cuffs in some way, but it couldn’t be possible, could it?

I was a Mad Lad, and I was determined not to die by the grubby little paws of a horde of fuckboy gnomes. Whatever the synthetic reality was that Lily had mentioned, I wasn’t about to become part of it.

So I went for it.

Lunging forward, I slammed into the gnome. I used my legs to straddle him and began bashing my head into the front of his face. I didn’t hit it every time; once or twice I caught his chin with my forehead, but he stopped struggling after a few good hits.

Just to be sure he was out, I got to my feet and started kicking at him, only to slip on some of the porridge he’d poured onto my head, causing me to fall straight onto my ass. My struggles had a way of dislodging the blindfold and the gag, both of which were around my neck by the time I finally sat up.

The light burned my eyes for a moment but I blinked a few times, got my bearings, and started strategizing what I should do next. One look at the gnome spawned a box that allowed me to loot him. Sure enough, I got the keys to the cell and a dungeon map, which immediately synced with my User Interface. And I thought that was it. I had the keys, and I had a map, two things that were necessary to escape a gnome dungeon. But then I realized that equipping them wasn’t the same as being able to use them.

I needed another pair of hands to get the metal cuffs off.

“For… for fuck’s sake…” I sat with my back against the stone wall and lowered my head.

<Would you like me to show you where Clovis and your weapon are on the map?>

I looked up as if Lily was in the room with me, wishing in that moment that she was. What would she look like? Why did I find myself wondering that when I was literally caged in a gnome dungeon? All I really needed was an extra pair of hands; then, I could likely get the cuffs off and the door open.

<Would you like me to show you where Clovis and your weapon are on the map?>

“Sure.”

A translucent map took shape before me, indicating that Clovis and Axl Rose were just a few levels above.

“That’s great and all, Lily, but…” I stretched my shoulder back, and in doing so my knuckles grazed the wall of the cell.

“Ooo…”

The sound came from all around me, a woman’s voice echoing through the corridor.

“Did… did you hear that, Lily?”

“Lily?” the voice asked. And even though there was an echo to it, there was a sultry nature to the voice as well, not quite a Jessica Rabbit, but maybe a smoky Jessica Alba. “My name isn’t Lily…”

“Then… then what is your name?” I asked. Sure, I’d bite. I was talking to a wall. What the hell else did I have to do?

“Dungeons don’t normally have names, intake...”

So she’s… she’s the dungeon core! In my head, a dungeon fantasy author named Jonathan Brooks did a backflip.

The revelation struck me like a frying pan. The gnomes had put me in a dungeon, obviously, and this was a fantasy world, which meant that the dungeon was probably sentient. It likely had a core as well, but I wasn’t about to go down that route—I’m more of a tower climber than a dungeon crawler—not with the time limit looming over my head.

“Do… do you want a name?” I asked.

“I’ll take any name you can give me, handsome.”

The dungeon is flirting with me… This thought was followed by another one: make it work, Randy, make it work.

I was by no means a dungeoncore expert, but as Angel Farts, I had written Oh, Great, I Fell in Love with a Demon Mimic and Now I’m Going to Hell to Become a Dungeoncore Farmer, so I at least had an idea of where this could go. I cleared my throat and lightly grazed my fingers against the wall again, the dungeon giggling as I did so. “Do… do you think you could get me out of this cell?”

“What’s your name, baby?”

“Randy, the noun, not the adjective.”

“Give me a name, Randy, and I’ll help you get out of here.”

“Shit…”

“You want to call me Shit?”

“No, um, Chelsea! Yes, Chelsea, I’ll call you Chelsea.”

I felt my heart drop. Chelsea was the name of my ex-wife, and for it to be the first name to come to me… made sense.

It entirely made sense.

Look, I told you back in the fictional author foreword (if you read it) that this story doesn’t have sex and romance. And it doesn’t. At least not that I’m aware of. Don’t worry, I’m not about to figure out a way to score with the sentient dungeon core. Were there ways to hook up with a dungeon? Sure, but that’s not this kind of story. Maybe my alter ego Angel Farts could write something like that, but why would he?

So don’t get any weird ideas, because I’m certainly not getting any.

With that out of the way, you should know that there was a little heartbreak before my story began. Yes, I’m divorced, and no, we didn’t end on great terms. There’s a reason for what happened, but none of this is why I decided to call the dungeon Chelsea, and while it seemed as if I was being impulsive, or saying the first name that came to mind, this wasn’t exactly the case.

I had a feeling that being friendly with the dungeon would help me retrieve my axe and save Clovis. By giving the dungeon the name Chelsea, the things I said to it (because yes, I was about to flirt back) would be authentic, or at least I could make it sound that way.

“Yes, Chelsea, my lovely lady dungeon.”

The wall quivered. “Ooo… I like that, lovely lady dungeon. Chelsea is a good name. Like shell and sea combined, but with a sexy little ‘ch’ sound.”

“That’s right, Chelsea,” I said, enunciating the ‘ch.’ “Could you maybe open the cell door for me… baby? I’d love to get out of here so I can go outside and pick some flowers for you.”

<Would you like me to make it easier to find Clovis and your axe? There are many chambers in this dungeon and I have located the best paths to reach him.>

“Yes, Lily,” I told my companion AI. I immediately regretted this.

“Lily? I thought you wanted to call me Chelsea…” said the dungeon, and as she did so, the opening she had started to form at the front of the cell began to shrink.

“Wait, it’s not like that, baby! It’s just, Lily and Chelsea, where I’m from anyway, are… um… nicknames. Yes, Lily is a nickname for Chelsea.”

“That makes sense. I… I like that we’re close enough now for you to give me a nickname. Hold tight, baby.” Chelsea produced an opening at the front of the cell, the bars melting back. I slipped through it, wrists still cuffed behind my back. I was free! My next stop was a door at the other side of the room, which was also locked. “Do you think you could help me with these cuffs?”

Chelsea laughed in a shy way. “You’re so naughty, Randy!”

“I try,” I told her. “Think… think you can open this one?”

The stone wall near the door began to quake, a face of a woman taking shape. “Are you really going to leave me?”

“No, of course not. A beautiful, um, wall like you? I’d never leave you, not even for a second. Chelsea, you are my heart,” I said, which was something I’d definitely told my ex-wife before. Ugh, this was rough.

“I’m… your heart?”

“You sure are, my little button, my little sweet thing.” I turned my back to the wall, showing her my cuffs. “Think you can help me with these.”

The dungeon made a sound as if she was going to sob. “I don’t have hands. Do… do you still like me even though I don’t have hands?”

“Of course! Fuck a pair of hands—wait, that came out wrong—I just need my hands to…” I grinned at the wall. “Do you like being tickled?”

“Yes…”

“I need hands to tickle you properly.”

“Randy, you wouldn’t!”

“I would if you could somehow get these cuffs off me.”

“You are such a bad boy. I would if I could, baby, Baby Randy.”

“I prefer Mad Lad, but that will do too.” I motioned my chin to the door. “Think you can pop it open for me?”

“There are more of those nasty gnomes on the other side…”

I took a deep breath in and prepared my neck for more headbutts. “That’s fine. Just let me take a few steps back so I can get a running start…”

****

If you are imagining me bursting into a narrow corridor guarded by a pair of burly Level Two gnomes in gnarly black armor like a blithering Mad Lad frothing at the mouth and shouldering into the first gnome trying desperately to headbutt him to death, you wouldn’t be far off.

It was a vibe, and by this point I truly had nothing left to lose.

Wham!

The first gnome hit the ground, my head smashed into his chin, my next headbutt actually connected, and I was about to get him again when I was struck by a club across the back by the second guard.

Christ, did it hurt. It was like all the wind and the good sense were knocked out of me in one go. The gnome likely would have beaten me to death had it not been for the ground shifting, the gnome falling into a hole, Chelsea crushing him seconds later.

“Holy hell, Chels!”

“Did I do good, Baby Mad Lad Randy?” asked the dungeon, her voice ricocheting off the narrow corners of the corridor.

“You… you bitch!” The gnome that was still alive pointed a finger at the wall, aware the dungeon itself had changed sides. His nose was bleeding now, his black cone-shaped hat somewhere on the stone floor across from us.

“Don’t you call her that!” I positioned myself on top of him again and like some sort of demented dolphin, I bucked up and down, delivering a few more deadly headbutts.

And yes, they hurt me as well, my HP flashing.

The gnome guard expired, or at least I thought it was his last breath out. I rolled onto my back, my assailant releasing a cloud of post-mortem gas that had me gagging in an instant, my back still hurting from the clubbing I’d received, my forehead on fire from all the headbutts.

“What’s next… Lily?”

<There are two doors up ahead. One door leads to the barracks, which is where you will encounter more gnomes. The second door leads to an obstacle.>

“Baby Mad Lad Randy, you called me Lily again,” said the dungeon. “Do you have another nickname I can call you?”

I almost said Angel Farts but that had never been a nickname, it had been a poor attempt to be clever.

“No, no, nickname for me, aside from Mad Lad. Now, what do you mean by obstacles, Lily?” I said under my breath.

<This is a dungeon, and most dungeons have obstacles to prevent people from both entering and escaping.>

“So… unless I want to try to dress up as a gnome, or fight my way through a horde of them in the barracks, I should take the obstacle path?”

<Correct. I have highlighted it on your map token.>

Mere mention of this map token spawned a translucent map in front of me, indicating the direction I should go.

“All right, let’s do this,” I said as I charged ahead, still with my hands behind my back.

I took the door on the left, which opened on its own due to Chelsea’s assistance. It wasn’t going to be easy. Trailing up the room were a series of stone platforms, and it looked like I was supposed to jump from platform to platform. The only problem was the field of spikes below, which would spell instant death. Not only that, the platforms were moving.

I was going to have to jump from floating platform to floating platform.

“Chels…”

“Yes, Baby Mad Lad Randy?”

“Um, how much do you like me?” I asked as I examined the hovering stone platforms.

“I don’t know how to answer that. I’m still getting to know you. What do you do for a living?”

“I write fantasy books.”

“People read fantasy books?”

“Some people, yes.”

“The gnomes never read.”

“I’m sure they’ve found other ways to pass the time, like wanking each other off and flicking boogers. Or maybe they’ve all reached Zen-like states in which they don’t need to read fantasy as a form of escape. I digress, can you… control the platforms?”

“Maybe…”

“Normally, I’d be all for the challenge, but not having usage of my hands is making me second guess this little obstacle here.”

“I can make it a bigger obstacle if you want,” she said, her voice dipping into something sultry. “You like them big, right?”

“Jesus, Chelsea, let’s save something for our…” Don’t say wedding night, Randy, I reminded myself, but it was too late. The words had already left my lips. I really needed to get a handle on the things I say. “Let’s save something for our wedding night.”

<You intend to marry this dungeon?>

Lily’s voice took me off guard. She had yet to really comment on the bonkers situations I continued to find myself in. Strange to see what finally triggered her.

“No, Lily, I don’t intend to marry…” I smiled at the wall. “Shit.”

“So… so you lied to me?”

“No, of course not,” I told the female face that was starting to appear.

“Baby Mad Lad Randy, I thought… I thought we had something special.” Water began to drip from the ceiling.

I glanced up at it, horror painting across my face. “Are… are you crying?”

“It’s been a rough week for me!”

“Chelsea, Lily, Chels, shit—all the names I’ve already given you—look, it’s all good, it’s me, please, let’s just get through this together.”

“...Together?’

“Um…” I watched as the water dripping from the ceiling started to slow. Is this how she orgasms as well? I thought, not quite sure of the bodily functions of a dungeon. There were writers who sat around thinking about these sorts of things, or at least I hoped there were, but as I promised you in the beginning, this is not that kind of story! More importantly, someone needed to save Clovis before these grubby gnomes used his loose pages as toilet paper.

“Sure, together, just… just relax, and let me get to the next room. Clovis is in the next room, right, Lily?” I said under my breath.

Please tell me Clovis is in the next room… I thought as Lily took her sweet time to answer me.

<As you can see on the map, after this room, there is a short hallway that leads to where the gnomes keep their treasures. Clovis is there.>

“Clovis is a treasure?” I asked her.

<According to the gnomes, yes.>

I smirked. “He’s a national treasure in my book.”

<I’m sorry, I don’t understand the reference.>

Clovis would appreciate that compliment, I thought as I moved onto my next question, which was asked through gritted teeth as I tried to conceal my voice from the lady dungeon. I could still see her face, the dungeon watching me with pupil-less eyes and occasionally tilting her head to the right and left, as if she were being coy and hoping to use her shoulder to entice me.

“Are there guards?”

<There is one guard.>

“Awesome, I’ve got a few more headbutts in me. Chelsea, can you…?” I stopped, realizing I’d made a cardinal sin in not looting the gnome from earlier. I turned back to him, a box appearing before me and letting me know what was lootable.

Oh, hell yeah…

The gnome had actual lyra, and I’m not talking about LyraCoin, this one had cold hard cash. DeFi be damned, I was back in the money. A quick, intuitive swipe from one of my cuffed hands added this to my inventory list.

“Ten lyra, thank-you-very-much,” I told Lily, Chelsea, and whoever else was listening.

“I like a wealthy man,” said Chelsea.

I almost bragged about the Harmon Token I had and how this translated into LyraCoin but stopped just in time. Best not to go around fanning myself with crypto lest I find me a gold digger.

“Chels, can you stop the platforms?” I asked as I prepared to ascend the moving platforms no matter what. “Pretty please.”

“Sure.”

The nine platforms that moved up the room at an angle came to a stop. The only problem was, some of them weren’t stacked next to one another, meaning I’d still have to do a little hopping.

“Can you line them up?”

“I sort of wanted to watch you challenge yourself a little, Baby Mad Lad Randy. You have a nice tush…”

“I… I certainly do.” I patted my cuffed hands on my ass. Summoning my inner American Ninja Warrior, I launched myself in the air, moving from platform to platform. I was a natural, and had this been the actual TV show, I would have certainly made it through the first obstacle.

Chelsea teased me on one of the final platforms, the dungeon vibrating the platform just a little and giggling as I nearly faceplanted.

But in the end I’d made it. It was time to save Clovis.

****

The most important part about saving a friend’s life is making a grand entrance when you do so. I just happened to do that as I raced toward the door of the treasure room, Chelsea popping it open.

And not a moment too soon.

The gnome tasked with guarding the treasure, which mostly consisted of junk, had his pants down, his little gnome in his clammy hands as he took a piss right next to Clovis.

The words that came to me next would be perfect for my tombstone:

“Hey! Piss on someone your own size!”

The Level 2 gnome turned to me just as I took off toward him. Sure, I got spritzed by a bit of urine, but I also managed to slam the living hell out of Peeing Calvin the gnome. As I had done to his peers, I offered up a few epic headbutts, practically shifting into seizures as I protected Clovis from what was left of the gnome’s golden shower.

By the end of the headbutting session I had a knot on my own forehead, I reeked of piss, I was a bit breathless, and Clovis was hovering over me, drooping to some degree.

“Are… are you okay?”

“Never been better.” I rolled onto my back and did my best Undertaker impression, sitting up with gusto. “What the hell was that all about?”

“It was his idea.”

“Obviously, Clovis. I mean why was a gnome pissing on you in the first place? Why would you let him do that?”

He shrugged. “I read online that you shouldn’t play dead if a bear attacks your tent. But gnomes are smaller, so I thought playing dead would work. He was trying to shock me into waking up.”

“By pissing near you?” I didn’t wait for an answer. “Weirdly, with the gnomes of Genera. That sort of checks out.”

“What’s up with your arms?”

“What’s it look like, Clovis?” I asked him as I showed him the cuffs.

“Who is the book?”

Clovis and I turned to Chelsea, the dungeon’s face taking shape on the wall, her eyes narrowed to some degree as if she were irked that she wasn’t getting enough attention.

“He’s a friend…”

Chelsea made a pouty face. “You didn’t tell me you had a friend, Baby Mad Lad Randy.”

“Who did you think Clovis was? I kept mentioning him. At least I think I did.”

“Who is Baby Mad Lad Randy?” asked Clovis.

Chelsea sighed. “I thought Clovis was the name for whatever spicy item you may have in here, maybe a toy for us…”

“In the treasure room?” I took a look around and saw Axl Rose leaning against a drawer filled with necklaces. “Looks like we’re back in action,” I went for the best axe I’d ever owned and returned it to my breakaway sheath. I also noticed a ring of keys dangling from the dead gnome’s waist.

I can’t be this lucky… I thought as I crouched next to the gnome and took the keys. They were all the same. The gnomes were clearly idiots, and sure enough, with a little finagling, I was able to free my wrists from the cuffs.

“Success! All right, Clovis, you and I need to check for loot and then get the hell out of this…” I smiled over at Chelsea. “Love, we’re going to be leaving for a while, and I don’t want you to get too worried. If you could, perhaps, make an exit for us that leads outside, we’d really appreciate it.”

Clovis tilted a few inches to the left. “So… you’re in love with the wall?  Am I understanding this correctly? I think the term for that is objectophilia.”

“Clovis, it’s not just a wall, it’s a dungeon. And she’s a she.”

“I didn’t want to assign a gender to it without her consent.”

“Not now, Clovis. Chelsea, love, my heart, is that possible?” I nodded my head from Clovis to the loot the gnomes had stashed in the room. “Take a look around, grab anything that looks good. And no fucking mustaches this time. We don’t need a mustache.”

“That mustache would have made a great disguise. Have you ever thought about rocking a mustache, Baby Mad Lad Randy?”

“Call me Randy—noun, not adjective—Mad Lad is a nickname I’ve given myself and…” I raised my voice a little. “Only Chelsea can call me Baby Mad Lad Randy.”

Chelsea purred with delight, the room shaking. One glance up at the ceiling and I saw it was wet again.

“Hurry, Clovis, or we’re going to need an Umbrella Token. Look for good stuff. Tokens. Look for tokens. And food. I’m starved.”

“The gnome had a questionable sandwich.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” I ducked next to the gnome and transferred the questionable sandwich to my inventory list. As I’d been told before, food didn’t register in my inventory list as a token. The next few things I looted did, all of which had no additional perks—a Golden Necklace Token, a Silver Ring Token, which, alongside my Instant Muck Token, left me with just a few more slots in my inventory list. Once I hit Level 5, Lily said I’d get a bit more space.

“We’re looking for valuables, Clovis,” I told the book, which hovered just over my shoulder. “You know, stuff we can sell.”

“Why?”

“Remember that merchant we ran into? We didn’t have anything to sell him. Next time we see someone like him, we will.”

“Hey, I found another token,” Clovis said as he scanned a skeleton that sat in a shoddy throne.

The token floated in front of Clovis, a rim of orange fire tracing around it and forming a dragon as it dissipated.

“Let me see that…”

Flaming Weapon Token (rare)

Usage of this token allows you to ignite your weapon for two minutes. You can use it five times.

“Oh, hell yeah.”

“I don’t have a weapon anyway,” Clovis said as he moved on.

“You have a sword.”

“I don’t have a hand to use the sword.”

“Flaming swords are cool.”

“I read a book about a guy who had a flaming sword—”

Commotion in the hallway interrupted our conversation. I sensed that we needed to hurry.

“Anyway, you have a sword,” I reminded him. “Since you didn’t grab a weapon at the start, I’m guessing that’s the one you are proficient with. Did the voice tell you something like that?”

“No, and if they did I would have ignored them. I’m pretty sure because I’m a spellbook that I would have just chosen myself, which I sort of did.”

“We’ll unpack that later...”

There has to be something super lootable around here, I thought as I took another look around, but for a treasure room, everything seemed to be trash. More muffled yelling caused me to hup two. Figuring it would buy us a little more time, I pushed the throne in front of the door while Clovis continued searching through the increasingly shit loot.

“I always liked going to estate sales. There are so many Upstate.”

“That’s nice, Clovis, but we’re looking for things to sell or use. So the shinier, the better. And tokens.”

“I don’t give a McShit! Just kidding, I’ll keep looking.”

“Come on, come on...” I gave up my search once sounds outside disrupted my gleeful scavenger hunt. “Chelsea, dear…”

“Yes?” The dungeon’s face, which had been partially obscured by a tapestry, began to form, the tapestry shifting to the side. “Can you…” I looked to the opposite wall. “Is that the direction of the tower, Lily?”

Both Lily and Chelsea answered at the same time.

“Yes.”

<Yes.>

I squinted at the wall. “Can you make a hole that we can escape through and seal it up after so the gnomes can’t chase us?”

Chelsea’s stony throat quivered. “I… I have a confession.”

The banging on the door grew even louder; the skeleton in the throne seat slowly started to shift forward in a creepy way.

“I’ve been seeing someone else, Baby Mad Lad Randy. There, I said it!”

“You… you have?” I pretended to be shocked.

“Yes, while I was having fun with you, there’s… there’s this gnome, Thorgrim Maltwhirl. He’s really well-endowed. You’d like him.”

The gnomes started to hack at the door with their blades.

“He doesn’t know about you…”

“—And he doesn’t need to know. Please, Chelsea, love, dearest, an exit.” I made a frame with my fingers to show her what I meant. “Right there will do.” There was now a gaping hole in the door behind me, and I could see a horde of angry gnome eyes on the other side. What the hell was wrong with these gnomes?

“Please, Chelsea, an exit! I’m happy for you and the gnome. I want it to work out between the two of you, between you and Thorgrim, really, I do.”

The ceiling started to drip again.

“You… you do?”

“Please, Chelsea, an exit! Please, Chels, baby, my little button. We’re so close!”

“If you want a real relationship with Thorgrim the gnome, it’s important that you’re honest,” Clovis began.

“Please, an exit!”

“Yes, yes, right away, Baby Mad Lad Randy. And… and I’ll confess to the gnome in my own time. Thank you, Book.”

“No problem, Dungeon Goddess. Did you read the book Dungeon Goddess?” Clovis asked me as the wall began to shake, a chute of sorts taking shape courtesy of Chelsea. “I wish that author would write another one.”

Light poured into the room as the hole opened up.

I motioned for Chelsea to make the hole larger. “Where… where is this dungeon exactly?”

<Are you asking me or the dungeon?>

“Anyone who has an answer—I’d greatly appreciate it.” A breeze started to blow in, the door behind us mere seconds away from bursting open. Lily’s voice came to me.

<The dungeon is built into the side of a cliff.>

“I… see…” I sucked in a deep breath through my teeth. “Clovis?”

“Angel Farts?”

“Let’s go!” I grabbed the book and charged toward the opening. The door burst open behind me, bits of splintered wood hitting the air as gnomes piled in.

“Whee!” Clovis shouted as I leaped into the chute that Chelsea had created for us. The portion behind us quickly sealed. We picked up momentum, both of us screaming like school girls as we were deposited out the other end.

“Holy… holy shit!” I cried, my cursing less for the sudden expansive drop, and more for the absolutely enormous ogre I now saw in the distance, the creature easily four or five stories tall, an angry look on his face.

“I’ve got you!”

Just as we hit the air, Clovis opened up down the middle, spreading wide as I gripped his pages tightly. I ignored the buzzing in my stomach as Clovis lowered us into a forested area defined by orange and red leaves. We reached the ground, the sense of alarm slightly settling in my gut as I took my first step on solid land.

“Did… did you see the ogre?” I asked Clovis, wide eyed now. The ogre was clearly guarding advancement to the tower, meaning that unless we had another plan, we were likely going to have to fight it.

“You never answered my question.” Clovis fluttered before me like a disheveled bird, his pages in disarray.

“What question exactly?”

“Did you read Dungeon Goddess? I can’t remember the author’s name.”

“What? No? There’s a lot I haven’t read. Why are you asking me that right now? We literally just shot out of the side of a cliff and… whoo! That was crazy, right?”

“But you’re a writer.”

“And you think writers read every single book as soon as it comes out? We’re way too selfish for that, Clovis. Maybe some hate-reading, you know, see what the competition is up to. Then there are your favorites, of course, but there’s simply not enough time to read everything that’s out there.”

Clovis turned away from me, the floating book examining a sign that had been staked to one of the trees. “Ogreview Cafe and Grill, huh?”

“Maybe we should check it out. I’m still hungry.”

“You have a sandwich,” he reminded me.

“That’s right…” I turned in the direction of the sign, feeling good about the time we were making. We were close to the tower. Soon, the tutorial would finish. “I’ll eat it on the way. Hopefully we, or at least I, can get a proper meal and maybe a bit of information. I hope you’re ready to fight an ogre.”

“Maybe not fight him, but I’m certainly ready to view the ogre. I’ve never seen one before, you know.”

I started to laugh but stopped myself. “Yeah, I know. Come on, Clovis, try to keep up with me.”

Chapter Nine: Open Mic Night at the Ogreview Cafe and Grill

The walk to the Ogreview Cafe turned out to be way longer than I would have expected. Along the way, I munched down on the questionable sandwich I’d lifted off the gnome, which became something I immediately regretted once it hit my belly.

I had a friend who had spent time as a journalist in Myanmar before the government went off the rails yet again. Upon returning Stateside, he told me he had endured something known locally as the ‘Burmese Dragon,’ which was explosive diarrhea and vomiting at the same time. He likened it to shaking up a three-liter bottle of Coke and popping the cap at the same time someone punctured the bottom. He was very vivid in his description.

I’ll spare you the details, but that would explain what happened after I ate the gnome’s sandwich, which left me pretty weak by the time we finally reached the cafe.

“Fuck, Clovis,” I said, leaning with my hand against a tree, my brow covered in sweat, knees a bit wobbly. “Double fuck.”

“I told you that sandwich was questionable.”

“You didn’t warn me enough.”

He tilted up, as if he were remembering one of the many draining conversations we’d had along the way. “Maybe I didn’t.”

Things blurred into focus. My mouth was dry and tasting of cold clam chowder, my stomach feeling as if I’d received a gut punch from John Cena in his prime or the jacked-up Ryan Reynolds from Free Guy. It was bad.

“Ogreview Cafe and Grill…” I read the sign again, noticing that there was also a shop next door, which was currently closed, and a hotel named, you guessed it, the Ogreview Hotel. The entire Ogreview franchise was built at the edge of the woods, and as we approached, I noticed that there were tourists—mostly elves, a few dwarves, a kobold—standing on a wooden deck watching the ogre stomp about in the distance, the monster pacing back and forth practically daring someone to try to pass it. It was too far away for me to get a proper read on its level, but the ogre looked like it would be quite the fight once it went down.

Did all the intakes have to face something similar? I had a feeling they did.

“Normally, I’d say let’s go shopping considering…” I swallowed a burp. “Ugh, I’m spent, Clovis. Sorry. As I was saying, I’d suggest we go shopping, but it looks like the store is closed. What do you say? Hotel first? Book a room, maybe wash up—me, anyway—then hit the cafe for some grub.”

“You’re seriously going to try to eat again?”

I drummed my fingers on my stomach, even though it hurt to some degree. “We’re reaching that tower tomorrow, and I need a good night’s rest and a belly of actual food to make that happen. As long as it isn’t another questionable sandwich, I think I’ll be fine.”

“You could just eat in the morning.”

“Not going to lie. I also need a beer, or an ale, or whatever adult beverage they serve here in Genera. I’d even be game for something fru-fru like a Long Island Iced Tea, anything to take the edge off.”

“I don’t think I can drink.”

I looked the book over, Clovis with a few pages sticking out as always. “Yeah, maybe not. Want me to fix your pages?”

“Sure…” Clovis floated over to me and I stuffed some of his pages back in.

“Heh! That feels so funny, like someone tickling your foot.”

I gestured toward the hotel. “Anyway. Let’s get a room, and… this goes for you and me.”

“What does?”

“Let’s try to behave. Act like we’re supposed to be here. All the NPCs—if that’s what they are—know that we’re intakes. And there are clearly other intakes doing dumbass shit, so let’s try to look classy.”

The hotel was built between several gorgeous oak trees, which added a touch of whimsicalness to the grounds, the staff consisting of well-dressed elves and halflings, all of whom seemed friendly as we approached the reception. It was certainly a step above any hotel I’d stayed at recently, and much better than the shabby studio apartment that I could no longer afford. (I still wonder what happened to the place.)

“We’ll take a room,” I told a halfling at the front counter, who stood on a wooden stool. The hotel clerk had blonde hair with a white streak down one side, his eyebrows pierced, definitely a hipster halfling if I’ve ever seen one, a perfect candidate for Southeast Portland.

“Yes, my lords,” the halfling said as he unfolded a scroll. He peered at the scroll through a pair of pince-nez that sat on the end of his nose. “We are heavily booked for the night, I’m afraid, but there is a suite available with a view of the ogre if it suits you.”

“We’ll take it,” I told the hipster halfling, not able to stop myself from giving him a thumb’s up.

“Right away, my lords. That will be five hundred lyra, which includes a continental breakfast in the morning and complimentary access to our grotto.”

Clovis floated forward. “Ooo, a grotto. I like the sound of that. What’s a grotto exactly?”

“A small, picturesque cave.”

I offered the halfling a tight smile. “You don’t, by chance, take LyraCoin?”

The clerk looked at me as if I had insulted his grandmother’s Christmas cookies. “LyraCoin? Ahem. That’s not a real currency, my lord.”

“I mean, it is sort of tied to Lyra itself, which would make it real.”

“Do…” He suddenly grew flustered. “Do we look like we’re in the tower?”

“No?”

“We’re definitely not in the tower,” Clovis chimed in. “I can see it out that window. Have you been there before?”

The clerk grunted a half-answer to Clovis’ question. “We take lyra, my lords. If you have five hundred lyra, the room is yours. That also includes breakfast.”

“And access to the grotto. Unless that’s off the table. Another question: is it a good breakfast or a crappy hotel breakfast?” Clovis asked, even though he couldn’t eat. “I have a gluten allergy, for one, and I’m tired of getting burned by hotel breakfasts.”

The halfling squinted at the misguided spellbook. “What kinds of hotels have you been staying at?”

“Personally, I try to stay in two-and-a-half-star hotels and above.”

“How about this: what kind of room will ten lyra get me?” I asked as I stepped in front of Clovis. I delivered this question with as much confidence as I could muster, hoping to hide the shame I felt in being so poor.

The halfling seemed insulted. “Surely, you are joking, my lord.”

“I’m asking from, um, one working-class guy to another—what can we get here? I’ll, I’ll wash dishes or help clean rooms,” I said, my mind instantly jumping to an image of me scrubbing a cumstain off a ceiling. Something is wrong with me.

“I’ll give massages,” Clovis offered.

“My lords. The only room we have available right now at the Ogreview Hotel is the suite, and it is five hundred lyra. Ten lyra won’t get you much of anything.” He shuffled his scroll, which didn’t look as convincing as if he had shuffled some actual papers. “Does this look like a gnome hotel to you? Look around.”

“It’s not too shabby,” I said, growing annoyed with the halfling’s tone. “But I’ve seen better places.”

“I’m sure you have.”

“Now that I have you, what’s with the gnomes here in Genera anyway?”

The halfling sighed bitterly. “That’s because they aren’t gnomes. They are goblins.”

“Goblins?” I asked, stroking my beard. That would make more sense. “Then why do they look like gnomes?”

“Will there be anything else?” the halfling asked. “I have other tasks to attend to.”

“Final question: can we at least get a meal next door? I have no idea about the cost of things around here.”

The halfling’s lips curled in disgust. “Yes, intake, ten lyra would buy you a meal next door, and a beer.”

I clapped my hands together. “Good enough for me. Come on, Clovis, we can find somewhere else to sleep tonight. Thanks for nothing.” I turned away from the hipster halfling and stormed off like a disgruntled Karen who couldn’t get her way at the customer service counter.

Clovis quickly caught up with me. “Does that mean we aren’t staying here? I think I may have overpromised on the massage part.”

“Not unless we can come across five hundred lyra.” I puffed my cheeks out and sighed. “I’m sure we’ll think of something. Otherwise, we’re roughing it for the night. Screw this place. It doesn’t look that great, anyway.”

“I wish there was internet here so I could leave a review.”

“I’m sure you’re not the first intake that has said that,” I told Clovis as he stepped out of the hotel. “And probably not the last.”

****

The Ogreview Grill and Cafe was as interesting as I figured it would be, the place filled to the brim with the denizens of Genera. In seeing the crowd, I was truly starting to understand the diversity of the population, from elven women that looked like wildlings to what I would classify as ogres if ogres were handsome. There were more wretched gnomes, who seemed off duty in their loosened black clothing, their cone hats tilted off to the side like some 90s gangsters; dwarves playing some drinking game, burly as lumberjacks and stout, their beards nearly covering their facial features; a pair of dare-I-say-sexy kobolds at the bar, their tails intertwined as they shared a large beverage with two straws; pixies hovering about shitting faery dust on everything they passed and speaking in high-pitched voices with LA accents; even a woman with fox ears and a tail that had to be some sort of kitsune. The place was packed, a bit smoky too. There was no telling what we’d discover if we did a little exploring.

“This bar has it all, Clovis.”

“Bar and grille. Sadly, I don’t see any other books.”

“You aren’t wrong there,” I told him as I took another look around. “Lily?”

<Yes, Randy?>

“Is what that asshole halfling back there said true? Are the gnomes actually goblins?”

<Yes, they are.>

“Why didn’t you tell me that to begin with?”

<Because you didn’t ask.>

“Fair enough. Another question: how many elf races are there in Genera?”

<In the tower or along the outer rim?>

“I mean, I guess we’re here right now so… outer rim.”

<There are a variety of elven classes, the most common being drows, light elves, faerun, mandras, and avariels.>

“What are the last three?” I asked as I turned to the bar. No one had greeted us yet; taking matters into my own hands felt like the right thing to do.

<Faerun are wild elves. Mandras are elves with plant-based powers.>

“Like a druid?”

<Yes, there are druids as well and they identify as different from a mandra.>

I glanced over to a table to find a very buxomly woman with auburn hair covered in flowers. Vines wrapped down her neck, dipping into her olive green robes.

Not bad…

<Avariels are winged elves.>

This statement annoyed me to some degree. “Are you telling me I could have been an elf with wings?”

<Yes, that’s correct.>

“And instead I’m a human?”

“Randy, the waitress is talking to you,” Clovis said, the book hovering just off to my side.

A dwarven waitress in what I’d describe as a lowkey Amish dress grinned, her beard expertly braided. “Evening, my lords,” she said, the woman several feet shorter than me. “The name is Manchester; what will yee be having?”

“Clovis, I hope you are ready to bust out some Shakespearian talk,” I said, wondering in that moment what the Bard of Avon would think of my little adventure thus far. He didn’t strike me as the type to be into portal fantasy with game stats, but you never know…

Poof!

A glitterbomb went off, the air filling with smoke. I recognized it almost immediately.

“My lord?” the dwarven barmaid asked as my expression soured. “What’s wrong?”

A woman stepped out of the smoke and glitter, one who could only be Drozard the wizard’s sister. She wore similar robes, threadbare, the wizardess with thick blonde dreads and jewels on her brow, her makeup elaborate, her teeth slightly crooked as she smiled. “Wonderful, Drozard said you would be here!”

“Who is Drozard?” asked Clovis.

“The wizard that gave us a looting challenge.”

Clovis tilted toward me, as if he were thinking: “Looting challenge…?”

“You got a mustache.”

“I remember that mustache! Who are you?” he asked the wizardess. “And where’s my mustache?”

“No mustache, I’m afraid. As to who I am, I’m Drizzy, and it is time for your next challenge!”

“Great, just what I fooking needed tonight.” Manchester the dwarven barmaid puffed her cheeks out and stepped away. “Just what I fooking needed...”

“What she said,” I told Drizzy. “Look, whatever this challenge is, it can wait. We’ve had a shit day. I had to seduce a dungeon just to escape from…” I glanced over to a pair of gnomes enjoying a pitcher of piss-colored ale. “Never mind that part. I have ten lyra to my name, enough Harmon tokens to buy a neighborhood if only someone would take crypto. Not to mention I have things to trade but no one to trade them with, and I ate a questionable sandwich earlier. I’m hungry.”

“I told you not to eat that questionable sandwich.”

“Live with no regrets, Clovis.”

Drizzy the wizardess smiled at us as if she hadn’t heard me air my grievances. “A challenge is in order! The challenge begins… now!”

Challenge!

The game show voice came out of nowhere, and by this point, Drizzy was ushering us through the crowd, which had started to part ways. She approached a troll with a unibrow who stepped aside, allowing her to lead us—‘lead’ is, ahem, a misleading word here. I had no choice and was being pulled by a magnetic force—up a flight of stairs and through a door that opened into a dark room.

Drizzy’s spell had taken hold, and all I could do now was focus on the curtain before us, the Ogreview Cafe’s stage beyond.

“The open mic comedy begins… now!” Drizzy threw her hands into the air, glitter falling like snowflakes around us. “Do well, intakes, and you’ll get a level. Win and you’ll get five hundred lyra and a complimentary night at the Ogreview Hotel.”

My ears perked up. “Did you say five hundred lyra and a hotel stay?” Sure, I wanted a level, especially so I could get some sweet skills, but I also wanted a good night’s rest, and five hundred lyra would be nice to have right about now.

“That’s right. Good luck! Clovis… you’re up first!” Drizzy whirled around, and as she did the curtain parted.

“How did she know my name?” Clovis asked as he was tugged forward by an invisible force. “Wait… wait… Randy! Angel Farts!”

“Break a leg, Clovis!” I told the book, feeling absolutely terrible for him yet still trying to smile. One of us needed to win, and if Clovis bombed, maybe I’d be able to swoop in and pick up the pieces.

The curtain shut, just a slit large enough now for me to see the stage, which had a single spotlight on Clovis, the room suddenly quiet.

You’ve got this, Clovis… I thought as the spellbook tried to turn back to the curtain, not able to leave due to Drizzy’s power. There was another issue. I’m sure you’re thinking by now I could have dropkicked Drizzy, stolen that five hundred lyra and the hotel voucher, tucked Clovis under my arm and bailed. You’d be right. If I could have, I would have.

But it was like one of those video games in which you can’t move past an area and you were forced to watch the scene without being able to fast forward. I was stuck in my little invisible box, gawking as Clovis summoned the courage to deliver some comedy.

“Hi…” he told the crowd, his voice suddenly amplified. “Um, hey. I’m…” Clovis cleared his throat and flapped open, in a way that made me think he was grinning at the crowd. “It doesn’t matter who I am, how are you!? Let me hear it, Ogreview Cafe and Grille! Let me hear it!”

His pages fluttered as a few fantasy denizens began to respond to his sudden transformation.

I cupped my hands around my mouth. “That-a-boy, Clovis!”

“Great, great, very good to hear, good to hear. So nice to be here tonight, such a nice night, am I right? Look out there, beautiful day, beautiful crowd. Whoo! Let’s get down to it. I’m going to perform a little observational humor, so laugh if you like it. If you don’t…” Turquoise energy radiated off Clovis’ pages. “Just kidding, I don’t know how to use my own magic.”

A few chuckles from the audience.

“So, observational humor. What about stop signs, am I right? You know, stop signs?” Clovis cleared his throat. “It’s like, why do I need a sign to tell me stop? I’m not stupid, I can figure it out.”

I felt the tinge of cringe. This is the worst episode of Seinfeld I’ve ever seen…

“And what’s with almond milk? Ever wondered how you get milk out of an almond?” Clovis moved up and down, miming what it is like to milk a cow. I think. “No? Forget about it! Almonds don’t have milk. Wait, you guys aren’t getting almond milk out here? Oatmilk? Don’t get me started on oatmilk!”

“Boooooooo…” The first boo came from a man with a deep voice, the next from what I was pretty sure was a pixie. More jeers followed.

“Speaking of boos, what’s up with ghosts? Ever thought about that? Ever wondered about ghosts? I bought a haunted doll off eBay a few years back just to see if it was really haunted. What a rip-off. And what’s with that? What’s with eBay? It’s like a garage sale for the internet, am I right? You don’t want to know what I paid for a Princess Diana Beanie Baby.”

The boos grew louder.

“Come on, Clovis…” I said as someone threw what looked like a basket of potato chips at him.

“What’s with chips? Why do British people call French fries chips? And why do French people call French fries frites? And what’s up with Freedom fries? Ever heard of those? Did they only eat those at the start of the Iraq War?”

Poof!

Clovis was suddenly next to me, his pages in disarray, glitter everywhere.

“That wasn’t too bad, was it?” Clovis said, a hint of excitement to his voice. “I always wanted to be a comedian.”

“Not bad…” I began to say as a beam pulled me forward. “Wait… I’m… I’m still working on my routine!”

The curtain shut behind me, and just before it did I noticed another presence next to Clovis. Had it been a goblin? There was no time to process it. I was now standing on a stage in front of a room full of fantasy beings, a spotlight on me, my voice amplified, sweat instantly trickling down the side of my face. There was a wooden stool next to me with a frosty mug of water on it.

“Um…” I smiled, the bright light and the blank faces overwhelming. “So…” After a quick drink from the mug of water, I glanced at the two gnomes seated at the back, who I recently learned were actually goblins that had been turned into gnomes. Or something. “How’s everyone doing tonight?”

Crickets.

“Talk about not getting a good read of the room. Ha! Hello, I’m a writer.”

More crickets.

“Let’s turn the page, shall we? No? No puns? No Dakota Krout fans? I find that hard to believe. I heard he wrote Something.”

“Boooooo…”

“Okay, okay, easy out there. I’m just getting warmed up, and you should never judge a book by its cover anyway. Ha! You know what?”

“Are you an idiot or something?” a fat dwarf shouted at me. “You’re supposed to make us laugh!”

I took a deep breath in and decided to switch gears. “Hey-yo! I’m Randy, the noun not the adjective, and I’m here to talk about explosive diarrhea.”

A few people in the crowd chuckled.

“This guy knows what I’m talking about,” I said, pointing to a man with antlers, who frowned instantly. “So I ate a gnome’s sandwich, I’ll admit that. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but it was there, I was hungry, still am, and I paid the ultimate price.”

The gnomes at the back burst out laughing, the crowd slowly coming to my side. It was then that I realized this was a pretty lowbrow audience. I mean, opening with explosive diarrhea and not getting yanked off the stage should have been a good indication. But this was it. This was my moment to shine.

“So, um, I was coming here with the book from earlier.” I motioned toward the curtain. “Let’s give Clovis a round of applause.” When no one clapped I continued: “And boom, it hit. It hit me like a gut punch from that stupid ogre out there.” I instantly felt the tension in the room; some of the people were definitely ogre-looking, but the rest of the crowd seemed to like it so I continued. “I was flying. Nearly shit my pants off, if that makes sense. Had to use a leaf to wipe myself and then I got a rash. So now I’m walking in the forest, itching my ass, stomach doing backflips, and it hits me again.” I made a fart sound, pretended to vomit, and the crowd started to laugh. “And again, and again! I couldn’t take it anymore!”

When I ran out of things to say, I fell on the ground and started doing my best breakdancing impression, the crowd laughing louder and louder as I spun around the stage.

Poof!

Glitter everywhere.

I was back behind the curtain, still on the ground, my set finished. “I… I’m so glad that’s over,” I told Clovis as a pink-haired goblin shouldered past. At least that was how I would have described her. “Where did she come from?” I asked as she took the stage.

“She was just here when I came back. But who cares about that part. You friggin’ killed it, Randy! Killed it!”

“Yeah? You think?” I got to my feet and tried to ignore the sense of elation I was feeling in my chest. It felt good to be laughed at, and while I was still hungry, I had somewhat of a second wind coming on. “Let’s just see what our competition looks like.”

The room went quiet yet again.

“Hello,” the female goblin began, a slight accent to her voice. “My name is Emiko and…”

She turned to the stool now with a fresh mug of water on it and expertly kicked the mug aside. A badass kick too, like some sort of spinning side kick. Emiko then hoisted the stool overhead and tossed it into the crowd. The goblin ended by flipping off the crowd with both hands. Rather than fight back or boo, they all started laughing, and soon, they gave her a standing ovation, Emiko offering the crowd a short bow.

“What the hell was that? Performance art?” I asked Clovis.

“I found it inspiring, a take on post-modern industrialization and its effects on the environment.”

The female goblin reappeared on our side of the curtain. She glanced over to me and gave me a curt nod. She was short, lean muscle with green skin, huge ears, and red hair that framed her face. Her armor was unlike anything I’d seen before, sort of a samurai armor vibe and a plated skirt. I wish I was better at describing armor, sorry.

“Did… did you say your name was Emiko?” I asked.

“Hai!” she said, not making eye contact with me.

“You’re Japanese?” asked Clovis. “I can speak Japanese, some German too. But not Spanish or French or any romantic languages. I’m a sub not dub guy, just in case anyone is asking. Anyone using dubs shouldn’t be watching anime.”

“Shit, Clovis, tell us how you really feel about it. And you speak Japanese?”

“Just a few words.”

“Don’t say you speak a language if you just know a few words. If that’s the case, I speak Spanish, Italian, French, English, hell, Japanese too.”

“You do?” Clovis turned to me. “You’re more traveled than I thought.”

“For Christ’s sake, Clovis, I was making a—”

Drizzy appeared on the stage to more glitter and the crowd began to clap. “Thank you, thank you! Such a lovely crowd!” She did a little dance, sparkling magic falling from the bottom of her robes. “That’s it for the open mic tonight!”

The three of us were yanked onto the stage by an invisible force. We must have looked crazy. There was Clovis floating like the dumbest spellbook you’ve ever seen with pages hanging out; my writerly ass in gnome armor, slightly pale from lack of food, and with an axe sheathed at my side; and Emiko, the Japanese goblin mean-mugging the crowd in her samurai lite armor, her red hair at odds with her green skin.

What a visual.

“We will select the winner of the open mic based on applause,” Drizzy said, beaming a smile at the audience. “First, Clovis the spellbook!” She motioned to Clovis, the applause lukewarm. He started to tilt forward slightly, saddened by their response.

“Fuck this crowd,” I told him under my breath. “Bunch of stupid gnomes, elves, that dude with the antlers whom I’ll call Sweet Tooth, whatever. Clovis, don’t let them bother you. I thought you did…” I swallowed. “Great. I thought you did great.”

Drizzy motioned to me. “Randy Lionheart!”

“Hey, why don’t I get a last name?” Clovis asked as the crowd clapped loudly, a few of the drows in the back giving me standing ovations. Maybe all drows aren’t bad…

“And… Emiko Mori!”

The crowd went apeshit. A few in the front nearly knocked over their tables as they hopped to their feet to clap. Emiko grew embarrassed and began bowing repeatedly, the goblin keeping her head down, strands of red hair falling into her face.

“Emiko is the winner! Randy is second place! And Clovis is our honorable mention!” Drizzy tossed more glitter, which began to swirl around us until it was thick enough that we could no longer see the crowd.

Points!

You have gained a level.

You now have skill points to assign.

You will be able to select your first class at Level 5.

+1 Intelligence!

+1 Stamina!

+2 Skill Points!

You have received an Enema Token!

Race: Human

Name: Randy Lionheart

Level: 4

Tier: Fresh Meat

HP: 19/19

MP: 5/5

Intelligence: 10

Perception: 8

Stamina: 9

Strength: 10

Dexterity: 13

Defense: 4

Health Regen: 10% per hour

MP Regen: 20% per hour

Skill Points: 4

Armor: Basic Gnome Wear

Weapons: Axl Rose

Accessories: N/A

Hey, I got smarter, I thought waiting for some sort of intellectual thought, or some revelation. Nothing came to me, as I found myself stage left yet again, the curtain closed, Drizzy floating before the three of us. One glance at my inventory list and I saw that the prompt had been correct—I had received an Enema Token. What the hell is that for?

Thinking this prompted an immediate response:

Enema Token (Rare)

Allows you to force an enema on an enemy or series of enemies. The token can only be used once, and it can also be used on yourself.

Weird… I was about to comment aloud about the token when Drizzy spoke.

“Until we meet again, intakes. Good luck!” The wizardess beamed a smile at the three of us as her glittery form started to fade away.

By the time I got the four-letter-word out, she was gone. “Well?” I turned to Clovis. “Did you get a level?”

“No.”

“Haters gonna hate, Clovis, don’t forget that.”

“Isn’t that a Taylor Swift lyric?”

“No…” I lied.  “It’s something I came up with. What about you, Emiko? What are you getting into?” My stomach made a noise that sounded painful as I turned to the goblin. “I think we are going to stick around here and see how much food ten lyra can get us.”

A softness traced across the goblin’s eyes. “You don’t have any money?”

“Yeah, not great, right? I mean…” I exchanged glances with Clovis, but he didn’t have a face, and unless he gestured in some way, I couldn’t really tell if he was making a facial expression at me. I had learned from Reddit lurking that it was a bad idea to advertise how much crypto a person had. If I had a digital wallet, Emiko and Clovis probably did too. Since we didn’t know her, it was probably smart to keep my Harmon Tokens, and more importantly, their exchange rate, to myself.

If I ever was able to cash out, things were going to be looking up for the writer and the spellbook.

I just had to keep reminding myself that.

Clovis examined her by tilting forward. “So, I guess you’re like us, a new intake.”

“I am, hai.”

“And you speak English?”

“Everyone here speaks English, or the common tongue,” I said. “We probably all speak different languages and the magic of the world fixes it. Google Translate style, but real time.”

“Hai.”

“Yet…” I smiled at the goblin lady. “You still say the Japanese word for ‘yes.’”

“Hai. Some words come out in Japanese, I think. It doesn’t matter.”

“Do you listen to the voice in your head?”

She turned to Clovis. “Why did you select a spellbook for your avatar?”

“Avatar? Oh, my book body. Like I was telling Randy, I was playing a gacha game on my phone, one in the NieR series. There was a book in one of the games, and I remember wishing I could play as the book. Well, when I was asked to choose a species, I chose a book.”

She nodded.

“And I made the mistake of choosing human,” I told her. “Had I known I could be an avariel or maybe a guy with antlers, I would have considered something else. Nope, just a human.”

“Very normal.”

“It is very normal, but hey, I’ve got an axe, I’ve got a spellbook—”

“—I don’t belong to you, Randy.”

“—I’ve got a spellbook friend, and I apparently have an archnemesis named Lothan.”

Emiko’s disposition soured. “A dark elf?”

“You know him.”

“He tricked me yesterday. I will kill him when I see him next.”

I raised my fist to Emiko. She examined it, and finally bumped it. “I’m right there with you. Something is up with that guy. We’re noobs, but we’re not doing this like noobs. We’re going to, ahem, git gud…” Boy did that sound stupid saying out loud to a female goblin. “And reach the top of the tower once we become ascendants.”

“I see. Well, good luck. You can have the prize money. I have enough.” Emiko turned her palm around, the bills appearing.

“Are you sure?”

“Hai, you can have it. I’ll take the free room.”

“Thanks,” I said as I pocketed the money. “I’ll get you back one day.”

She turned to the exit.

“Wait…”

Emiko looked back at us.

“Do…” I glanced in Clovis’ direction. “Do you want to team up with us?”

“No. Good luck.”

Emiko exited without saying another word, and I’m not going to lie, it hurt. I really thought this story was going to shift to a tale about a writer, a spellbook, and a goblin.

I offered Clovis a tight grin. “Well, what did you think about her?”

“She was a bit short for my taste, and her accent will take some getting used to.”

“Damn, Clovis, tell me how you really feel.”

“I just did.”

“She seemed nice. A good person to know. Maybe a bit cold, but if we run into her again, hopefully we can repay her and work together. I get this feeling she’s a tough customer,” I told Clovis as we approached the exit, which would put us squarely back in the main room of the cafe.

Little did we know that the ogres I had unknowingly insulted earlier were waiting for us, drunk and ready to brawl.

Chapter Ten: Skill Points and an Ogric Beatdown of Enematic Proportions

Slapping my hand against Clovis’ spine had the funny effect of sending him spiraling a few paces forward. “Sorry there, Clovers,” I said, going with a nickname I was workshopping. “But we’ve got things to do.”

“Yeesh! Do those things involve abusing me?” He turned back to me, the crowd of fantasy denizens at the Ogreview Cafe and Grille merrily drinking all around us. They didn’t seem to care about our recent stage antics, and from what I could tell, there weren’t going to be any groupies. Darn.

“First, we feast. After that, I’m going to get as good as I can by assigning my skill points. Nope, Lily,” I said, pointing a finger in the air, “I don’t want to know my options just yet. I’d like to really stew on it, maybe from the bathtub of our presidential suite at the Ogreview Hotel.” I sniffed my own armpit. “I could use a bath.”

“I’m a big fan of bubble baths to wind down,” Clovis said as an ogre stepped up beside him.

There was a tap on my shoulder. “Oi, funny man. I talk to you now.”

“Yeah, that’s him, that’s the guy!” came another voice that sounded like it belonged to a gnome.

I turned, and was instantly greeted by a fist.

Wham!

It sent me stumbling backward, right into a circular table. Two glass mugs of lukewarm beer spilled onto me, the glass shattering as it hit the ground. People started to scatter.

“Holy…” I pushed myself up and—wham!—another punch, this one an uppercut, which left me tasting blood as I finally laid eyes on my opponent. A beefed up ogre with gorilla-like muscles and a serious underbite summoned a token and snapped it in my direction.

“Web!”

Schliick!

I was suddenly plastered to the wall, suspended about a foot above the ground as I watched Clovis frantically try to do something. He slammed into the back of the menacing ogre, only for the ogre’s voluptuous and not so ogre-y female companion to grab Clovis, snap him shut, and slam him against a barstool as if she were delivering a chair shot.

Two ogres… one gnome… shit… I thought. Shit!

“I don’t recognize the spellbook,” said the gnome, “but that guy, that fucking guy, I know exactly who he is. Hello, intake. Remember me?”

My vision blurred into focus as the gnome approached. He had a thick beard like the others, the ends of which were braided, beads weaved into the ends of his eyebrows as well. His conical hat was too large for his head like a dunce’s hat, and he looked like a true asshole.  “Who…?” I asked, squinting at him.

“The name is Thorgrim Maltwhirl, you dipshit! You slept with my girlfriend, and now, now!? NOW you’re going to pay.”

The ogre offered up a gut punch.

“Not so funny now, are you?” the ogre asked as he neared my face, his English shit. “Teach you to make ogre jokes. Teach you to take gnome’s girlfriend. Bad intake die now.”

Thorgrim slipped by the ogre and kicked me in the shin. “That’ll teach you to sleep with my girlfriend!”

I glared at the gnome. “Your girlfriend is a fucking dungeoncore you… you… sister-fisting truck nut!”

“Ha!” Clovis started to laugh. “You tell him. Hey!” The female ogress punched the spellbook, sending him straight into a wall and knocking over another set of drinks.

“Let me down from here, you oxygen-deprived shit button!”

Clovis giggled at this comment as well, even though the female ogre now sat on him, arms crossed over her chest. Knowing that he was okay made the next ogre punch not hurt so much. Thorgrim was a little twerp anyway, so his kick barely registered.

“How about this?” Thorgrim surged forward with a knee aimed at my family jewels.

“Aaaiiiii!” I shouted, one million percent certain that my Cadbury Eggs were completely shattered. “You… pissflap! Liver spot! Cretin!”

“Yeah? You got more to say?” Thorgrim asked, his breath reeking of a potent combination of taint and durian fruit.

The troll doorman that was supposed to be preventing shit like this from happening finally decided to slowly push his way over to us, but not before the ogre placed his thick hand around my neck.

“Fuck you…” I said, because I was all out of inventive slurs, and was unable to go for Axl Rose and get to hacking.

“Get him, get him…” Thorgrim said, a fiendish look on his face. “I want to see you choke him.”

The ogre’s eyes darted down to my belt line, and for a moment, I thought things were about to take a turn in a direction that I wasn’t expecting. But then I felt his other hand in my pocket.

“Put… put that back…” I said as he finally let go of my neck. I pressed forward, only to be held to the wall by the Web Token he had cast.

The ogre handed the five hundred lyra Emiko had given me to Thorgrim, who quickly counted it. “I guess this will do. Kill him and let’s get out of here.”

The ogre looked over his shoulder at the troll security guard, who was close to reaching us.

“Give… my… money… back… or… or…” I was sure to point at the ogre and Thorgrim as I said the magic words: “Enema Token!”

Wow.

The Enema Token was everything I expected it to be and more.

It exploded inside the ogre, his trousers all but ruined. Thorgrim was launched sideways like someone had shoved a bottle rocket in his sphincter, the gnome screaming bloody murder as he tried to cup his hands around his ass. The lady ogress quickly raced over to her mate, the bucktoothed woman pointing a finger at me just as the security guard approached. She turned up the waterworks (I’ve always wanted to say that), claiming I assaulted her man, they hadn’t done anything to provoke the attack.

“It was him!” Thorgrim the gnome shrieked through tears, his pants ruined, blood on the ground as he tried desperately to stand. “He did this to me! The intake did this!”

The crowd parted and the three hobbled out of there with my lyra, Thorgrim vowing under his breath that this wasn’t over.

As soon as they were gone, the troll security guard turned to me and frowned: “Is that true?”

I stared at him incredulously. “Does it look like it’s true? Who is the one webbed to the wall here like a horned-up Spider-Man paid me a late night visit?”

The troll grunted at this statement. “Who?”

“The ogres! The ogres assaulted us, the gnome led the charge, me and my… spellbook. Clovis, get over here!”

Clovis lifted into the air and fell flat on the ground, splayed out, his pages disheveled. “Ugh… she had… such a… bony… ass…”

The troll security guard puffed his cheeks out as he tried to make sense of all this. “That’s your spellbook?”

“Technically? No. I don’t own the spellbook, no, but we are associates.”

The troll, who had the face of a blobfish, looked from Clovis and back to me. “I’ve heard enough. Both of you are out of here.”

“But…” God, I felt like a child saying this next line: “But we didn’t do anything.”

“It doesn't matter to me. You start a fight, you give out some enemas, you’re kicked out of the Ogreview Cafe for life. Simple rules. I’ll help you.” He pulled at the webbing keeping me attached to the wall.

“Can we… at least get something to-go?” I asked once I was free.

The answer, of course, was no.

I was unceremoniously tossed outside, the patrons cheering. Clovis floated after me, the spellbook definitely dragging a little on the ground. My first reaction was to check our surroundings and make sure Thorgrim and his two ogres had bailed. Once it was clear there wasn’t anyone waiting for us, I turned to Clovis, who was now lying on the ground yet again.

“Are you all right?”

He tilted, as if to look up at me. “She was a heavy ogre. And… and her ass...”

“Bony, you already said that.” I sighed miserably. “Just think of it like this: some people would pay good money for an ogress to sit on them like that. It beats getting webbed to a wall or kicked in the gonads by a salty gnome.”

Clovis started to giggle. “I can’t believe you gave them enemas. Where did you even get the Enema Token?”

“I sure as fuck did, and as to where I got it, Drizzy. Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all. Look…” I got to my feet and placed my hands on my waist, trying to give Clovis the most stoic pose I could. “We can find a place to sleep, and maybe do a little rummaging for food. From what I can tell so far, people outside the tower suck balls. Maybe things will be different once we’re ascendants.”

Clovis started to perk up. “So we can camp and scavenge for food?”

“Camp? Sure, something like that. I meant that we can sleep behind the cafe and eat some of their trash later tonight. I guess, ugh, things could be worse, right?”

“Could they?”

He had a point. We were both exhausted by this point, poor, we’d been beaten pretty badly (I was still bleeding and definitely bruised, even if I was starting to recover), I was hungry, and we weren’t any better off than we had been earlier that day at the gnome dungeon.

But at least we had each other.

And I had some skill points that needed to be assigned…

****

When it rains, it pours.

You’d think that some poet came up with this line, maybe a 19th century writer at the height of the Victorian Era, or perhaps it was even older than that, perhaps it dated to the French Revolution, something that a guy named Claude cried out before being guillotined, his head hitting the ground, bouncing twice, spurting blood as Robespierre called for another head.

You wouldn’t liken the phrase to an ad exec in the early 1900s, long before there was Madmen, who was trying to sell table salt. Yes, table salt. The Morton Salt Company in fact.

I would have told Clovis this little-known fact, but I was too busy trying to avoid the sudden downpour, which came down with such great force that I was reminded of the T-Rex scene from Jurassic Park; that, or a harrowing video clip from Hurricane Katrina. It was bad, so bad in fact that my next move was instinctual.

“Clovis!” I swiped the spellbook out of the air and stuffed him under my shirt. Once he was secure, I ran toward the back of the cafe, hoping to find a tree to duck under. “Sorry!” I shouted, the rain now coming at me from all sides, an onslaught if there ever was one. It was akin to running through a carwash on the premium cycle, water whipping at me like those blue spinning brushes that make the car vibrate.

“Lily, what the hell is wrong with this place!?”

<I’m sorry you are experiencing discomfort, Randy. Please proceed to the tower. You have a little over a day to reach the tower and become an ascendant.>

Fucking tower, I thought as I finally found some semblance of shelter beneath a pair of trees next to one another, my covered position giving me a view of a side exit of the Ogreview Cafe.

“It seems like the rain is letting up, Clovis,” I told the spellbook, who was pressed to my chest and slightly warm. Clovis didn’t respond; I tapped my hand on him.

“Wha—?” he asked, his voice vibrating my body to some degree.

“Are you…?” Lightning crackled in the sky above, followed by some thunder, or maybe it was the other way around. I’m not a scientist. “Clovis, are you freaking sleeping?”

“So… warm…” I felt Clovis’ voice yet again, noticing that it was softer this time, a bit clammy too.

“You’ve got to be shitting me…”

“Only you can shit you…” Clovis said. “Read that… in a book.”

“As soon as this rain lets up…” Craning my head up did little in the search for shelter, huge drops of water slapping me in the face, one getting me right in the eye. Dammit, Genera! “I swear. I was having fun earlier, I really was, portaled to a fantasy world and whatnot, leaving my debt and shitty life behind. But now? Hungry, wet, cold, broke—this sucks, Clovis, it really sucks.”

No response.

“You shouldn’t be sleeping!”

The side door of the Ogreview Cafe and Grille swung open. A pair of mandra elves sauntered out, both women, both looking like they’d had a long night of boozing and gossiping. The two immediately summoned large leaves that covered their bodies like umbrellas. The one on the right, who wore a tight rust-colored tunic and what I would wager was a vegan leather vest, noticed me standing beneath the tree, sopping wet, something bulky beneath my shirt.

Naturally, she lifted a hand into the air and the branches above me moved, the canopy offering additional shelter.

“Thanks!” I said as she approached, the mandra elf leaving her friend behind.

“Why are you standing out here in the rain, intake?” she asked, her voice cutting through the rain.

I smiled at her, and went with the first dumbass question that came to mind: “So you know what I am?”

The elf, who had a soft smile, plump cheeks, and pointed ears that faced outward rather than up, rolled her eyes at this question. “Of course I know what you are, intake.”

“So…” I looked up at the branches she had rearranged, just about the time that Clovis started snoring.

“HnggGGGGggh… Pwwwwbhww… HnggGGGGggh… Pwwwwbhww…”

The mandra elf looked at my chest, her ears twitching.

I laughed nervously. “It’s a growth, not cancer, I assure you.”

She raised an eyebrow at me. “What are you doing out here anyway?”

“The ogres and the gnome—you saw what happened right?”

She glanced up, as if she were recalling what had just gone down. “You’re the enema guy? The comedian, right?”

“Enema guy? What about the ogres and the gnome? They had me pinned to the wall.”

“They did, but that was still pretty extreme. You ruined their pants.”

“HnggGGGGggh… Pwwwwbhww… HnggGGGGggh… Pwwwwbhww…”

I tapped my fist against my chest. “Look, you can clearly control plants and nature. Do you think… do you think you could give me a little shelter?” I turned and looked at the dark thicket beyond the Ogreview Cafe, the portion just beneath the viewing deck. “Anywhere around here really. I've passed the point of giving a shit about what people think. I just need a place to rest.”

She motioned toward the west. “There’s a hotel.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening. You don’t happen to have five hundred lyra you could let me borrow, do you?” I asked, feeling as if I were blathering now. “Because if you do, I can assure you I’m good for the money. In fact…”

A hint of concern traced across her face, peppered by more lightning above. “I’m not about to lend money to an intake.”

“This might sound strange but… but I’m only poor on paper,” I assured her. “If you have a digital wallet, I can transfer you, hell, why not? An entire Harmon Token. That’s worth 6,500 lyra. I’d just transfer it to you, you’d convert it to a LyraCoin, and… and… cash it out whenever.”

“We don’t use LyraCoin outside of the tower,” she said, a hint of disgust in her voice. “You haven’t heard that by now?”

Her friend called to her, likely noticing the elven woman’s body language by this point. She was leaning away from me.

“Look, don’t go, I mean go, do what you want, but please don’t go without giving me a proper place to sleep tonight,” I said, not able to hide the desperation in my voice.

She tilted her head at me. “What do you have to exchange?”

“Really? I mean, sure, but it is sort of your superpower, is it not?”

Lightning crackled again, which woke Clovis up for a second, the spellbook muttering to himself and falling back asleep.

“Fine, let’s just get this over with. I’ve got…” Swiping my hand right revealed my inventory list. “A silver ring, a jeweled goblet, and a golden necklace. Take your pick,” I told her, figuring that Clovis and I would do more looting the next day. We really needed the funds.

“The silver ring.”

The ring appeared in the form of a token, Lily confirming that I wanted to transfer it to the mandra elf. As soon as the affirmative answer left my lips, the tree behind me began to morph, the branches folding down and flattening into a square structure without a proper door. Vines grew over one side of the opening for privacy, the wood thickening around the other three corners.

“You’re welcome, intake.” The woman was starting to turn away when my stomach grumbled, loud enough that it could be heard over the rain and thunder. She turned back to me and summoned a bunch of bananas, apples, and some kind of hard nut. “Good luck. I hope you make it to the tower.”

The elf returned to her friend.

After I gathered up the food, I slipped into the shelter she’d made, instantly impressed with the sturdiness of the structure. The space inside was partially dry, especially a spot in the corner, where I deposited Clovis.

“Hey, I was comfortable…”

“Clovis, we’re not going to have that kind of relationship.” And with that statement, I began stuffing my face full of bananas and juicy apples while lightning continued to light up the sky. I would save the nuts for breakfast, when I could figure out a way to open their shells. “So good… bananas are so good.”

“I could go for an apple cider donut,” said Clovis in a sleepy voice.

Soon, he was out again, leaving me to finally deal with my skill points now that I’d finally gotten some peace and quiet.

“All right, Lily, let’s assign some skill points.”

<You have four skill points to assign. The current skills available to you are attack based. You do not possess magical powers, but you can use magic to a degree with tokens.>

“That’s right,” I said, recalling the Flaming Weapon Token which would allow me to hit the next ogre that looked at me funny with a fiery axe.

<Because you only have four skill points, you can only learn one skill at the moment.>

“Don’t I get to see a skill tree? I mean…” Thunder sounded off and I let it finish before continuing: “I don’t get a preview or something?”

<Unfortunately, that isn’t the case.>

The skill tree appeared before me; all but one skill was blurred out.

“I should have known…” The urge to shake my fist at the sky swelled within me, but I suppressed it. Genera was clearly cursed. “Alrighty, then, what is the one skill I can learn?”

<You can learn Absorb for three skill points. Your next option will become available to you once you have enough skill points to purchase it. Achieving Level 5 will allow you to select a class and it will increase the size of your inventory list.>

“That’s the plan,” I told her. “That’s the plan. What’s Absorb do exactly?”

<Absorb allows you to use your axe to absorb a blow. Once you have absorbed three attacks in a row, you will release a sphere of energy.>

I imagined this playing out in my head and it looked good, really good. “Sure, I’ll be sure to test that out tomorrow. You hear that, Clovis?”

“Wha—?”

“Tomorrow is an important day for us. I’m going to get to Level 5 and you’re going to gain some levels as well. We’re going to figure out what kind of spellbook you are too,” I told him, surprised at the yawn that followed. “Dang, I’m more tired than I thought.”

“Sure thing…” he said. “G’night, Randy.”

“Nighty night, Clovers.”

Sure, I would have liked to use a pillow, but my arm worked well enough. I found a comfortable position, and just about the time I was drifting off, Clovis spoke: “I’m… I’m still cold.”

“You’re a book. You aren’t hot or cold.”

“So… cold…”

“I’m not cuddling you, Clovis.”

He slowly floated over to me, a hint of turquoise energy radiating around him. “Can’t you use me as a pillow or something? Then your manbun can keep me warm.”

I started to shoo him away but stopped. “You know what? Fine, I’ll agree to that. But only if you agree to put in some work tomorrow. We are running out of time to make it to the tower and become ascendants. We’ll do some grinding, and then we’ll tackle that big ogre. That has to be some sort of tutorial boss. Agreed?”

“Fine…”

Clovis floated just a bit closer to me.

“Not so fast. Do you promise to listen to the voice in your head tomorrow and try to get better?”

“I’ll think about it.”

I sighed, not really in the mood to argue with him. Once I plucked Clovis out of the air, I placed him under my head and got into a position on my side. In the end, resting my head on the thick spellbook wasn’t as uncomfortable as I thought it would be.

“I can’t believe Angel Farts is using me as a pillow…” he whispered in my ear, startling me. “What a crazy day.”

“Shut up and sleep, Clovis.”

Chapter Eleven: We’re a Guild, Baby!

The last time I woke up in Genera, I was imprisoned in a hyper-flirtatious gnome dungeon. This time, I was resting in a shelter made by a cute mandra elf, my head on a warm spellbook that was snoring lightly.

Not bad, not bad at all, I thought as I took a satisfying look around.

My writing schedule saw me getting up, having my coffee and cracking open whatever manuscript I was working on, blurry eyed, trying to seize the day as best I could. Plot, notes, character development, Excel spreadsheet for LitRPG stats, ideas I’d managed to email myself in the middle of the night—it was never ending.

Of course, being a person living in an Internet-driven world, my mornings involved a not-so-complicated-yet-always-draining ritual of checking the news on my phone; reading social media comments as I took the Browns to the Superbowl; scoping what other authors were putting out (the competition!); checking what readers social enough to be vocal on social media were reading (I follow this way too closely); going down a rabbit hole whenever a news article caught my eye; realizing I was wasting precious writing time; trying to add some cardio to my morning routine and sometimes succeeding; the stress of checking my book rankings; calculating ad costs (some of my stuff is independent from publishing houses, meaning I’m responsible for advertising it); and constantly playing catch-up.

Constantly.

Even so, I loved it. This isn’t a complaint, merely an observation. I knew how lucky I was to be able to make an actual living off fantasy, and I’d worked enough retail jobs and nine-to-fives to not only feel more pressure, but also pressure from a past self who continued to harp at me, “You’ve got to do better, Randy, don’t fuck this up!”

Waking up in Genera was different.

For one, there were birds I’d never heard before chirping outside, a soft breeze whispering into our shelter, the air slightly cool with a sweet scent to it from the night’s torrential downpour.

Even so, my initial thoughts were instinctual—I should be writing.

This caused me to laugh to myself once I sat up, Clovis still dead to the world.

Once I’d placed Axl Rose in its breakaway sheath, I stepped out of the shelter to find everything covered with a thin layer of dew, the ground wet, a new smell hitting me, something I’d describe as earthy if I was actually on Earth. Soil, flowers, wet tree roots—I loved it. There was smoke coming out of the grand fireplace of the Ogreview Hotel’s chimney adding the musty smell of burning wood to the air, the grounds surrounding the establishment empty aside from a halfling sweeping up the pink flowers of a shrub that had been hit too hard by the rain.

“What a world,” I said. “What a world.”

And for a split second, I willed myself to wake up just for fun, almost as if I was daring myself to go from a world in which I could die at any moment by the hands of an angry ogre to a world in which I’d increasingly become a failure.

And no, I’m not asking for sympathy here, dear reader.

God, no. This isn’t that kind of story.

I’d just hit a point in my career in which I’d been forced to gamble everything and had sort of lost. It happens to lots of people at some point. They reach a point where they need to either git gud, or get packing, a point where decisions are made. We all have different life stories, and oddly, my story was wrapped in my ability to tell stories. But then I came here. Then I appeared in Genera, surrounded by shit-for-brain gnome-goblins, and did the only thing that seemed logical—fight back.

And I could already tell how much it had changed me. I felt like I could write anything now, that I could tackle any task, accomplish whatever it was I challenged myself to do, all because I was simply forced out of my comfort zone, forced to adapt.

With this in mind I turned in the direction of the tower, which was visible in the distance, surrounded by a ring of white clouds: “I’m going to climb to the top of that sonofabitch,” I told myself, the words mantra-like in my head. “Lily?”

<Good morning, Randy. You have one day to reach the tower.>

“Yep, that’s definitely on the agenda. As soon as Clovis and I get some levels, we’re heading that way.”

Something high up in the sky caught my attention. It grew nearer to me, the large white bird seemingly out of place. It was a stork, and from what I could tell, it was carrying something. The stork dropped a parcel, and rather than hit the ground, the cloth that was wrapped around it faded away, revealing a token. The stork was already departing as I examined a floating orb with a glowing plus sign twisting around it.

Quicklist Token (Unique)

A Quicklist allows you three slots to access in a rapid manner. To assign an item, simply find the item in your inventory list and either move it to the bottom left of your user interface, or simply tell your system assistant to add it.

Interesting, I thought as the Quicklist appeared in the lower left hand corner, as promised, the orb now gone. It made total sense. Having this user interface token meant I wouldn’t have to spend time uncorking a health potion bottle, if I ever actually got a health potion.

“Cool, cool, cool,” I said, doing my best Detective Peralta impression. “Want to tell me why a stork just hooked me up with a unique token?”

<You will learn more about these storks once you reach the tower and become an ascendant. You will be briefed before you begin the first floor challenge. I’m sorry I’m not able to provide more information.>

Seven realms, I reminded myself, and each realm has numerous floors.

“So you can’t tell me anything? Like what will the first-floor challenge be?”

<Unfortunately, I don’t know what the first-floor challenge will be. That information is not provided to me.>

“Figures,” I said. In a way it was ironic—much of what I wrote involved some form of narrative suspense in which I withheld information from the protagonist to keep the story moving along. Now that the tables were turned, it didn’t feel so hot. “Moving on. You already told me I’d get to choose between a Barbarian and Fighter. What are the real differences?”

<As previously mentioned, a Barbarian is stronger than a Fighter. A Fighter has better dexterity than a Barbarian, and you’ll have access to more weapon knowledge. A Barbarian will allow you to heal faster, you’ll gain a power called Rage which is tied to your MP, and you will be able to learn secondary skills like Tracking. A Fighter, on the other hand, will grant you an instant stamina boost once you drop below a certain HP, and you’ll be able to learn secondary melee skills to operate better without a weapon. Both are fine choices.>

“Mad Lad,” I said, going with the nickname I’d used for MMORPGs. If anyone was going to be a true Mad Lad when the times got tough, when we were in a bind, or to manage whatever twisted shit Drozard and Drizzy threw at us next, I was going to need to become a Barbarian.

“I’ll be just like Conan,” I said, tipping a hat I didn’t have to Robert E. Howard, the creator of the sword and sorcery subgenre. “And when I reach Level 15, I think I’ll add a magic class. A spellaxe. I can see it…”

And I really could.

The advantage of having an active imagination was that sometimes, however fleeting, a scenario would play out in my mind’s eye as if it were real. And I saw myself in that moment, a flash of who I was to come, hacking away at an absolute monster with a magical axe, Clovis tearing into the beast as well, both of us kicking ass and taking names, not running around like a bunch of hapless noobs.

“Yeah…” I said, grinning like an idiot up at the tower. Then I recalled what Lily had said, that only one person could truly reach the top.

Satoshi awaits only one of you…

I nodded, psyching myself up. If that was the case, and I had to throw down with the founder or founders of Bitcoin and this insane fantasy world to change the very nature of the game, then so be it. Further, there was no proof as of yet that the Satoshi at the top of the tower was the same Satoshi that practically founded crypto.

Just need to get there first and find out…

I felt a swell of motivation, like a true flame had been lit under my ass. We’d reach the tower today and finally, finally, the real journey could start. Sure, this had been fun on the outer rim, but it was a glorified tutorial and the real action would begin once we became ascendants.

As I idly ate the nuts given to me by the mandra elf, my thoughts lost on what was to come, I noticed a short, pudgy cat-like creature waddle toward the shop next to the cafe. He produced an enormous keyring and let himself in, the door slamming shut behind him.

“Clovis…” I called over my shoulder. When the spellbook didn’t respond, I peeked my head inside our wooden shelter to find him splayed open on his spine. “Hey, I’m going to sell some stuff. You got anything?”

“I have the Sword Token.”

“Really? Nothing else?”

He yawned in response.

“Keep the sword. We don’t know if it’s something you can actually wield or not. Look, just… stay here. Don’t go anywhere.”

His pages fluttered. “Where would I go?”

“Good point, but the last thing I need is to have to hunt your ass down in Genera, not when we’re this close to the tower. Today is the day, Clovers, today is the day we become ascendants!”

Clovis snapped shut, and didn’t say anything else, which I took as a gesture of him turning over to the other side of the bed and taking the sheets with him. I hurried toward the shop, and found that the front door was open. After smoothing my hands over the front of my shitty gnome gear, I let myself in, my eyes falling onto the short catman I’d seen earlier, who was seated on a stool and drinking a piping cup of hot tea.

His ears instantly pressed back in agitation. The catman wore a felt vest that was an offshade of pink. His body was covered in white and gray fur with speckled bits of black, his eyes large and bulging, belly distended. “We’re not open yet, intake.”

“Randy, nice to meet you,” I said, offering him my hand. He declined to shake it. “I just wanted to unload some things, and see what you have.”

The cat’s whiskers began to droop as a frown formed on his face. “Did you not hear me? And the name is Dixon Kyo.”

An apologetic smile took shape on my face. “I just don’t think my companion and I will be around here for long and I figured, hey, you’re a shop, you’d love to sell me something. I don’t know the full socioeconomic structure of Genera yet, but I’m fairly certain that’s how it works.”

Dixon continued to frown. “Do you have lyra?”

“Sure, but…” I swallowed hard. “Maybe a longshot here, but, you don’t happen to take LyraCoin do you?”

“That’s not money.”

“It is technically money. It’s a stablecoin tied to real lyra, exchangeable somewhere. Although I don’t know where just yet.”

Dixon set his tea down and crossed his arms over his chest. “We don’t take that sort of garbage outside the tower. So no, I don’t. Cold, hard, lyra out here.”

“I have ten lyra.”

Dixon snorted. “You have ten lyra?”

“I was robbed last night. I had more, but ogres took the money in my pocket.”

“Always something with your kind. Look, I have some maple candy you can buy that is ten lyra. That is all.” He motioned toward a glass jar in the corner, which was full of amber-colored candies. I’d been so focused on getting into his shop that I hadn’t seen what he actually had to sell. It seemed like a lot of tchotchkes, but there were some weapons, armor, potions, and glowing tokens under a glass case. “What do you have to sell me, intake? You mentioned unloading something. Well, unload it. My tea is getting cold.”

“Um…” I produced the golden necklace and the jeweled goblet. It was entirely instinctive by this point, the items simply appearing in my hand one at a time before I placed them on the counter.

Dixon examined the items without touching them. “Fifty lyra.”

“What? Come on, man, that’s a gold necklace.”

“Where did you get this?”

“Not a gnome dungeon, I’ll tell you that.”

“Bah. Useless gnomes, especially out here considering they’re all goblins. This is goblin’s gold, essentially petrified shit. Smart Generans living outside the tower have replicas of their important jewelry made. The gnomes steal these ones rather than the real ones. They can’t tell the difference because they are inbred moronic twats.”

“If it’s fake, then why do you want to buy it? Seems to me like you wouldn’t want it if it were fake.”

The cat’s ears lowered. “You think you’re clever, do you, intake? Think you can outcon a bakeneko, do you?”

“Is that what you are?”

“A bakeneko is precisely what I am.” He pointed a claw at one of his ears. “Do you want to see my tail as well?”

“I’m good.”

“One hundred lyra, final offer. And that’s more than I should be paying you for it. Now, yes, or no? My tea is getting cold.”

I looked from the golden necklace to the goblet rimmed in jewels. Were they fakes? How the hell was I supposed to know? I thought about biting down onto the necklace like I’d seen people do in movies, but then what? If I’d had my phone, I could look up ways to tell if gold was real or not, but without the Internet, I was pretty much fucked in situations like this.

“Well?” Dixon raised an eyebrow in a way that told me he knew he had me by the balls. “Yes, or no, intake?”

“Fine, I’ll take the hundred lyra. But you’re giving me five of those health potions. And a piece of that maple candy too. It better be as good as the shit they have in Vermont.”

His whiskers lifted, his lips curling into a grin. “Deal!”

****

I knew I had been ripped off the moment I left that shop, but at least I had money, potions (which I had assigned to my three-slotted Quicklist so I wouldn’t have to uncork them to drink them) and once we got to the tower, I’d be able to do some crypto swaps and really be rolling in lyra.

“Just a matter of time…” I returned to the shelter, sucking on a piece of the maple candy. “Clovis,” I called inside. “We’ve got to go. It’s time to do what we were put in Genera to do. Looting and leveling—that’s the name of the game today.”

“Um, Randy?”

The spellbook floated over to me, and while he didn’t have a face, it felt like he was ashamed of something.

“Yeah?”

“I forgot to tell you something.”

“What’s that?”

He floated toward me. “A big white bird visited me when you were away.”

“A stork? If it happened while I was away, then you didn’t forget to tell me. You’re just telling me now.”

“It was one of those birds that delivers babies.”

“A stork, like I said.”

“I didn’t trust the bird—you told me not to let anyone in our shelter.”

“I never said that. I only said not to go anywhere.”

Clovis bobbed left and right. “Not go anywhere, not trust anyone. Sort of similar, no?”

“Sure.” I bit down on the maple candy and enjoyed the flavor. I really should have bargained for more candy.

“Anyway, here’s what the stork gave me before I could chase it away.”

A spherical token appeared before me, this one glowing with a green light. As soon as I laid eyes upon it the words appeared in the air above it.

Basic Guild Token (Common)

A Basic Guild Token allows you to partner with whomever you share the token with. You will be able to see their stats and abilities and pool your inventory lists together. Do not activate this token with someone you do not trust.

I looked at Clovis and grinned. “This is exactly what we need!”

“Is it?”

“Clovis… of course it is! Now I can better understand your power and…” I was going to say ‘help you manage your shit,’ but refrained from doing so.

A Portland buddy has a son who is on the spectrum. Sometimes, the things Clovis did reminded me of the kid, and while they were funny, odd, and oftentimes annoying or not helpful, I knew patience would be necessary to make this work. After all, he was a book, and I was a writer. There was something metaphorical about this to me, a writer helping a book, and maybe in turn, that book helping a writer back.

We just needed to unlock each other’s true potential.

“Activate the token, Lily.”

The Basic Guild Token rose into the air, energy radiating from it as it split into two equal pieces, one disappearing into Clovis and the other into me.

<Swipe up to access your Guild page. You may also just think it and it will appear.>

I nodded at Lily’s suggestion. It truly was becoming clear to me the intuitive nature of Genera’s system.

<Would you like to name your guild?>

I stopped just shy of peeking at Clovis’ stats. “Do we want a guild name?”

“Angel Farts?”

“What? No, ha! That was a mistake on my part, that whole pen name. I’m just glad I bailed when I did.”

“Um… what’s a good name?”

“Not something from Harry Potter, please.”

Clovis relaxed his pages, nearly losing one as turquoise energy continued to radiate around him. “Not really my thing.”

“Something original, something…”

“You’re the writer.”

“Yeah, I’ll think of something. Let’s see what you’re working with here, Clovis.” He floated closer to me, as if he too could see the stats I was looking at. “You know you can look at this any time you want, right?” I asked him.

“I’ll just have you do it for now.”

“Right, let’s see…”

Race: Avariel Spellbook

Name: Clovis Smith

Level: 1

Tier: Fresh Meat

HP: 9/9

MP: 14/14

Intelligence: 7

Perception: 4

Stamina: 15

Strength: 3

Dexterity: 6

Defense: 5

Health Regen: 20% per hour

MP Regen: 30% per hour

Skill Points: 0

Armor: N/A

Weapons: N/A

Accessories: N/A

“Clovis Smith, huh?” I asked.

“It’s not the most original last name, I know.”

“But it’s solid. We’d make a great attorney’s office. Smith and Lionheart, Attorneys at Law. Not a bad guild name either, but we can do better. It says here you’re an Avariel Spellbook. Avariels… those are the elves with wings. Lily, what can you tell me about the magic that Avariels use?”

<Avariels use existential magic.>

“Existential magic, huh?” I tilted my head upward. Before we’d been imprisoned by gnomes, I’d flipped through Clovis’ pages, the ones that weren’t in disarray, noting a language that I’d never be able to read. It might as well have been the Voynich Manuscript.

“Did you say existential magic?” Clovis asked.

“Hold up, she’s explaining it to me.”

<There are two broad categories of magic used in Genera. They are elemental and existential. High-level Avariels use existential magic, a term which some have rightly interpreted as being used incorrectly. This includes time magic, teleportation, gamma powers, and telepathy. You can learn more once we reach the first realm of the tower. There is a bookseller in Hamsterdam, a city on the third floor of the First Realm, who may be of use.>

“Yes…” I said, taking a quick look at the tower in the distance, well aware that a huge ogre separated us from reaching it. I had a feeling we weren’t going to be able to just go around the brute. Did she say Hamsterdam?

“So?” Clovis asked before I could ask Lily about Hamsterdam.

I explained what she’d told me, then moved on to his stats proper: “You have really high stamina, yet you’re often sleepy. Maybe this is because you don’t require food or nutrients to survive. What else…?” I didn’t want to tell him I had better stats, especially in the intelligence and strength part. If he really wanted to find this out, he could do so himself. “Your Health and Mana regen is faster than mine, all in all…” I smiled at the spellbook. “You’ve got a clean bill of health, Clovers, one that would be even better if you got some levels. So what do you say? Ready to get to looting and stabbing?”

“When you put it like that…” Clovis shot up into the air and performed a couple flips, his sudden motivation startling me. “Let’s get out there, Randy!”

Chapter Twelve: Clovis and the Mad Lad Get Their Asses Kicked by Hemotropic Butterflies

Have you ever wondered what it is actually like to grind in an RPG? To get out of bed, do whatever it is you do in the morning, then kick out the front door with the sole goal of gaining a level, completing a side quest, or getting your loot on? I’d written about said things—leveling, joining a guild, slashing through a dungeon to gain XP—but to actually have that as my plans for the day?

Beautiful.

That said, to actually have to find something to fight? That aspect would prove to be a bit more difficult.

We were about two miles out now from direct confrontation with the ogre, and the way the landscape was shaped seemed to funnel us toward the inevitable. It was clear we were supposed to face off against the monster in some way, which only made me curse that I hadn’t been able to hold onto that token that allowed me to fly. Sure, I could use Clovis as a sort of literary kite, but he wasn’t strong enough to really support my weight for a long enough time to fly past the ogre, and, I don’t know, attack it from behind.

Or something.

I really had no clue how we were going to deal with the ogric monstrosity just yet.

“Should we shout?”

“What?” I asked Clovis, who hovered a few feet in front of me. “Why would we shout?”

“To find something to fight. We’ve been out here for an hour now and there’s nothing to fight.”

“Shout, huh?” I looked back in the direction we’d just come from. We’d walked for about forty minutes, the Ogreview Cafe and Grill now a distant enough memory. The morning had warmed up, and even with the tree coverage above, the forest floor was partially illuminated, revealing a smattering of red, orange, and yellow leaves that had fallen.

No, we didn’t launch into a rendition of the classic song Shout, but I thought about it as we pressed on, my eyes scanning for something to combat. “That’s life for you,” I finally said. “When you go out looking to fight, there’s nothing to fight. When you’re minding your own business in an isolation tank hoping to spark the next, ahem, novel idea, you end up being assaulted by gnomes. Or goblins posing as gnomes.”

“I still don’t get that part.”

“Fuck goblins. It’s all about tokens, Clovers, and whatever token their leader found that allowed them all to morph into gnomes is probably one of the rare ones. I’m sure there’s a world in which we would have been able to go questing after the head of the goblins, but we’re running low on time so… here we are.”

“Goblins always get a bad rap.”

“Agreed.”

“That one from last night helped us.”

“Emiko,” I said.

“She was a Japanese goblin.”

I considered this for a moment. “That… that would also be correct.”

“This makes me wonder how many other countries are represented here in whatever world this is.”

“Genera. It’s called Genera.”

“There could be other Asian goblins.”

I turned back in the direction of the ogre. “Either way, I’m sure we’ll find out once we reach the tower. I’m so ready to be done with this tutorial.”

Clovis did a spin forward. “And become ascenders!”

“Ascendants, but that’s right, we’ll become—”

Normally, the sudden appearance of butterflies wouldn’t have meant anything to me, but the group that wafted over to us was something else entirely. Their wings were a pearl white with blood red features and they were large, each butterfly with a wingspan about the length of a sheet of paper.

“That’s amazing…” I turned my hand around, allowing one of the pretty butterflies to land. It gracefully lifted its wings, and as I peered at it, the butterfly plunged its face directly into the thick skin of my palm. “Shit!”

The others attacked, all of their levels appearing instantly, as if they had been masking them.

Level 2 Hemotropic Butterfly

Level 2 Hemotropic Butterfly

And so on.

“Kill the butterflies!” I smacked the butterfly away and ripped my axe from its breakaway sheath. The butterflies came at me in waves, like bats flying out from under that bridge in Austin, Texas, the vampiric fuckers flapping their wings all around me, biting, a few covering my eyes as they went for my face.

“Angel Farts!” Clovis shot forward, the spellbook opening and closing, crushing some of the butterflies and dragging some of the enemy butterflies down. I got my bearings and started to swing my axe at the little fuckers; when this didn’t work, I sent Axl Rose to the old invo list and slapped them out of the air.

“Goddamn butterflies!” I managed to shoulder forward, vampiric rhopalocera careening all around me. In an effort to get my bearings, I charged into the woods and came to the edge of an embankment. Failing miserably, I tried to backpedal and began to slide instead, stones tumbling after me. Barrel rolling, I slammed into a large stone, the lights going out for a moment.

They came back on in an instant, my energy low, Lily’s voice somewhere at the back of my head telling me my HP was low.

That feeling. I recognized it almost from before, a sort of ennui meets severe muscle cramps after a HIIT workout. Thinking of my HP caused my stats to flash before me. I was down to seven.

Out of nineteen.

Had the butterflies really bit me that hard?

One look at my hand and I saw all of their teeth (or whatever butterflies have) punctures. I went with a health potion from my quicklist, instantly feeling my spirits return, my wounds stitching up. The sound of someone screaming reached me; I glanced up to see Clovis flying over the embankment, white and red-winged butterflies scissoring after the spellbook.

He spotted me and came sailing down.

Not able to pump the brakes in time, Clovis collided with me, sending me straight into another large boulder, a boulder that began to move. Rocks tore from the ground, forming the lower half of a stone golem, one that sort of resembled a member of the California Raisins but with thicker legs.

“Damn, damn, damn…” Grabbing Clovis caused me to lift a foot into the air as he started to fly away from the butterflies, which were pouring down the embankment in pursuit of us.

“Randy, it’s a rock monster!”

Our new opponent’s level appeared before me.

Stone Golem, Level 7

“We can’t beat that one!” I said just as soon as we touched down. Clovis started to turn back to our stony foe and I yanked him out of the air.

“Hey! I’ve never seen something like that before…”

“Not… now… Clovis!”

Whoosh!

The hemotropic asshole vampire butterflies all hit us at once, Clovis now clutched tight to my chest as if I were a running back. I tried to ignore their bites as I tried to flee, my eyes focused solely on the forest floor, looking out for spare rocks and roots.

The ground shook.

A shadow loomed over me as the bulky stone golem tried to catch up to us. All around me, flashes of white, red, green, and brown graffitied my periphery. The sensation caused by the swarm of ravenous butterflies overwhelmed me to the point that I hit my quicklist again and got yet another health potion boost.

“Here we go, Clovis!” I launched my writerly shitcoin-buying ass off another embankment and started to slide, still holding the book to my chest. “This is like that Class Action Park documentary!”

I hit the ground running, my legs moving at a pace in which they seemed as if they would rip out of their sockets. I caught up (to myself), and finally released Clovis, the two of us turning back to see the stone golem sliding down the embankment as well, a halo of bloodthirsty butterflies and debris surrounding him.

“Clovis, you’ve got to blast those butterflies!”

“What?”

I grabbed the spellbook and looked at wherever his face should have been. “You did it before. Blast those motherfuckers like you’re the Death Star and they’re Alderaan.”

“But two billion people were killed including Viceroy Bail Organa and—”

“I don’t give a McShit. Focus, man, focus! Get them all!” I opened Clovis and turned him toward the sliding golem and the butterflies. “Give them hell. It’s… it’s magic time!”

Clovis coughed.

“Goddammit, Clovis, activate! Kill, butterflies, kill!”

“Activate?”

I shook the spellbook, the two of us just about ten seconds away from being bulldozed by the sliding golem and his troupe of butterflies.

“Activate!”

“I… I don’t know if I can…”

“Clovis, dammit, you’ve got this—”

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAMMMMMMMMMMM!

The blast that Clovis emitted was enough to send the two of us flying backward, where we tumbled even further down a natural spillway. It was only after the dust cleared, smoke heavy in the air, that I realized how close I’d come to burning off my fingers.

Could I heal from that?

I didn’t want to find out.

“Clovis…?” I sat up and let out a deep breath, the world spinning around me for a moment. The spellbook was now on the ground next to me, closed tight. “You… you good?”

He opened up onto his spine and lay there yet again like a beached starfish. “Holy hell.”

“Yeah?” I asked through a grin.

We hadn’t been crushed by a golem. Things were definitely looking up.

“That was…?”

“Yeah?” I asked again, wishing I had a cigarette even though I didn’t smoke.

The ground shook, our little moment of triumph ruined when the stone golem emerged from the smoke. I was just about to grab Clovis when there was more movement behind me.

Wham!

A huge tree sailed right over our heads, striking the golem so hard that it sent the stone monster rolling to the side.

“Randy…?”

I gulped, the blood instantly draining from my arms and legs. The giant ogre now stood directly over us.

Chapter Thirteen: The Chapter in Which We Battle the Giant Ogre

Sometimes, the moment you’ve been waiting for quickly becomes the moment you’re instantly dreading. While I was revved up and ready to get some levels, I didn’t want to end up stomped to death by an ogre the size of a Decepticon.

That was, until I saw his level and did an about face.

Giant Ogre, Level Three.

Level… 3?

“Let’s kick his ass, Clovis!”

The question then became how. In video games, you can do all sorts of cool moves that allow you to take on a giant opponent, the camera panning around you, perhaps a portion of your enemy blinking to let you know where to strike first. In the real world (or the real fantasy world?), it’s not that easy. Especially without any real skills or…

“I’ve got tokens!” I shouted, as if I were on Twitter trying to hawk 8-bit NFTs to anyone who would like or share my post.

But I did. I even had one token that I’d had ever since the dark elf Lothan had betrayed me. Now I just needed to figure out a way to use it…

The ogre tried to smash me with another tree, the various branches coming inches away from pulverising the Mad Lad. By this point I was already being whisked away by Clovis, who had slammed into me hard enough to move me forward.

“You… you saved me again!” I shouted. The ogre’s club-like tree limb came just a few feet from sweeping me away. “Shit!”

“What are we going to do?” Clovis asked.

The giant ogre roared, spit and hunks of mucus flying out of his mouth. Weird, purplish dust kicked up into the air with each of the ogre’s kid-throwing-a-temper-tantrum stomps.

“I’ve got a plan!” My axe bloomed with fire, my Flaming Weapon Token doing the trick. The ogre’s eyes bulged for a moment as I ran toward him. The monster tried to smash me with a fist, but I was able to dodge the attack and slash my axe against the outer edge of his arm.

I needed to whip him up into a frenzy, get him frothing with fury, and then I could put the finishing touches on my little strategy. I swatted at the ogre a few times, just trying to wear it down some and piss him off even further. This seemed to work as the ogre actually tripped over his own feet in an attempt to crush me.

He fell, pulling roots out of the soil with him as he did so, Clovis swiftly flying over his head.

“What do I do?” Clovis shouted down to me. “What do I do!?”

“Clovis, I’ve got a plan… just… just stay back and try to attack—”

Whoosh!

I narrowly dodged an incoming tree, more purple grit obscuring the air.

“Holy shit! Did you see that?” I shouted, surprised at my own reflexes. It was like I knew the tree was coming at me and moved at the very last second.

Clovis whipped by again. “You’re like Superman!”

“You’re goddamn right I am, Clovis. Now get ready to fry the ogre!”

I still had a little time left on my flaming axe. With this in mind, I started to run a circle around the ogre, hoping to confuse him. He got smart toward the end of my run, the towering, unkempt son of an orc, swiveling the opposite direction and offering me a wicked kick.

And I’m talking wicked.

It was like I’d been launched into the air by a rocket, the impact sending me through a thicket of trees, branches, and thorny bushes. The lights started to go out and I hit the HP potion in my quicklist. A breath of fresh air filled my lungs. For a moment I wondered if this was what it had been like for Snow White to be kissed by Prince Charming.

Everything came to me at once. Clovis sputtered after the ogre, the spellbook trying to cough up some turquoise magic and failing.

It was now or never.

The beastly fantasy monster flung himself into the air, and as I rolled out of the way, I summoned my Instant Muck Token.

The ogre hit the ground where I’d just been a few seconds ago, and instantly started to sink. The flames on my axe petered away as I took a position about fifteen feet out, watching the ogre struggle until he was up to his knees. The living muck seemed to enjoy such a large target, the substance swelling and quivering as it continued to pull the ogre deeper.

“Do it, Clovis! Do it!”

“I… I don’t give a McShit!”

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAMMMMMMMMMMM!

Clovis’ attack cut right into the ogre’s side, ripping flesh and organs out and causing the towering creature to fall forward. The muck grew even larger, the ogre struggling to free himself, reaching for anything he could to pull himself out.

“Dang…” Clovis approached me, disheveled as ever. He lowered to the ground like a fallen leaf and settled onto his back.

“Buddy…”

“Angel Farts…”

“Stop calling me that.”

Clovis let out a gasp, his pages rippling.

I picked him up and tried to stuff a page back in, only letting him float away once it was secure. I’d seen him lose pages along the way and figured they were important. “You are one kick-ass spellbook, Clovers. For real. For real, for real. For real, for real, for real.”

“What… what do we do now?”

The ogre continued to roar, desperation in his eyes as the muck swallowed him. My response to the whole affair was to pinch the bridge of my nose: “I’d say something along the lines of smoke ‘em if you got ‘em, but I don’t smoke, and you’re a book.”

“A book with a cigar would be funny. So…” Clovis did his version of a shrug. “So… we just watch the ogre die?”

I considered this for a moment as the ogre continued to struggle. “I think so. Or we can just move on and any level-ups will come to us once the ogre passes. You definitely will. Me? Maybe. I still want to get one but…”

The tower was reachable now, even closer than it had been just an hour ago. It seemed like it was miles away when we’d first dealt with the hemotropic butterflies, but now it was within twenty or thirty minutes’ walk, as if the land had shifted, or our place in Genera magically altered.

“We’re way closer than I thought…” I finally told the spellbook. “Let’s keep going, and just be ready to get a level. You’ve earned it.”

****

The woods began to peel back.

Literally.

I’m not being literary here, they actually peeled back, as if Adam Smith’s invisible hand simply pinched the terrain and ripped it away from us. Clovis and my writerly ass now walked in a brisk manner along a sandy white beach, toward a series of large boats not unlike the ones they used to storm the beaches of Normandy.

I’m not a nautical guy. Maybe you are, or maybe you’re reading this at sea on a six-month rotation like writer Xander Boyce, or simply writing on a cruise ship like Will Wight. You know your starboard from your cutting board, all the nooks and crannies, all the terms for speed and whatnaut. Usually, if I have to write about ships, I’ll look at Google Images of them and try to sound smart. But in the real world? In the token-driven fantasy world known as Genera, without a smartphone? How the hell am I supposed to remember the parts of a ship?

“What’s that one called?” I asked Clovis, who was my first mate anyway, one that would be utterly useless on a ship.

“Um…” Clovis stopped and fluttered his pages. “I’m bad with ship names. Or are they boats?”

“A barge? It’s a transport vessel, and it looks like people are gathering in front of each one.” I squinted. “Intakes. We should probably line up with them.”

“Wait… wait!” Clovis shot up into the air and came back down, spasming, energy rippling around him. “I think… I think I just leveled up! The ogre is dead. Wait. We probably should have looted the ogre, right?”

“I didn’t think we would be able to because of the muck, but… maybe.”

“Nice…” I accessed my own UI and switched over to Clovis’, thanks to our handy dandy Basic Guild Token.

Race: Avariel Spellbook

Name: Clovis Smith

Level: 2

Tier: Fresh Meat

HP: 11/11

MP: 15/15

Intelligence: 8

Perception: 4

Stamina: 15

Strength: 3

Dexterity: 7

Defense: 6

Health Regen: 20% per hour

MP Regen: 30% per hour

Skill Points: None

Accessories: Bookmark

“Did you get one?”

“Not yet, you were the one that killed…” I gulped. My skin felt as if it were starting to bubble, goosebumps trickling down my arms, everything tingling like it was my first wet dream.

Points!

You have gained a level. You may now assign a class.

+1 Strength!

+1 Dexterity!

+1 Defense!

+2 Skill Points!

Race: Human

Name: Randy Lionheart

Level: 5

Tier: Fresh Meat

HP: 21/21

MP: 5/5

Intelligence: 10

Perception: 8

Stamina: 9

Strength: 11

Dexterity: 14

Defense: 5

Health Regen: 10% per hour

MP: 20% per hour

Skill Points: 3

Armor: Basic Gnome Wear

Weapons: Axl Rose

“Dang,” I said, once the stat dump had finished. “Dang…”

There were occasional arguments in the LitRPG reader community about the stats in books, some people liking what they called “crunchy” stats, or really detailed ones, others liking them less crunchy. And then there was the audio crowd, who always debated if the narrator reading the stats was necessary, or if it could be moved somewhere else.

I get it, I really do, but now, seeing my own stats…

I’m not going to lie: I wanted to read them over and over again, and then tattoo them onto my forearm so I could see them all the time. But rather than make a decision I would inevitably regret, I tuned into what Lily was saying to me.

<Are you ready to assign your class, Randy? It will come with additional bonuses.>

“Assign a class? I sure am. Um, what were my options again?” I asked, even though I already had decided on the class that I wanted.

<Your options are a Fighter or a Barbarian. A Fighter isn’t as strong as a Barbarian, but they are able to use multiple weapons. You will be able to multiclass at Level 15, but your next class won’t be as strong as the first one you assign.>

Mad Lad… I thought as I ran my hand over my chin. It was the nickname I’d given myself, and as stupid as it was...

<What class would you like to assign?>

“Barbarian,” I said almost instinctively.

You have selected the Barbarian class!

+6 Stamina!

+6 Strength!

+6 Defense!

You now have a natural ability known as Rage, which allows you to amplify your strength and stamina by fifty percent for ten seconds per mana point expended.  You will be able to level up your Rage ability as you progress through the tower.

I felt my muscles bulge beneath my basic gnome clothing. I looked down at my bicep, watching it swell like that of a professional wrestler, my next breath even more fulfilling than my last. “Whoo! I call that stat boost the Mark of the Beast! Hulk Smash!”

Clovis tilted as if he were looking at me in a curious way. “Why are you so amped up?”

“Amped up?” I took a quick look around. Maybe I need to dial it back a bit… A few deep breaths helped a little, but I still felt like I was channeling James Brown in his prime. So, much, energy!

“Also, Mark of the Beast? Is that some sort of new skill?”

“The Mark of the Beast? No, Clovers. Triple sixes, you know, from Revelations.”

“Revelations?”

“The Bible, Clovis. I thought you read fantasy? Kidding, kidding,” I said immediately, hoping I hadn’t just offended him or anyone else who may be listening in.

“I always skipped that part.” He started floating forward again. “I don’t like doomsday prophecies. It’s one reason I avoid post-apocalyptic genres when I can. Too dreary. I also don’t like EMP attacks or dog sidekicks. Too stressful. Don’t you dare hurt that dog. Anyway, you got your big level, right? It looked like you had ants in your pants for a moment there.”

“Got it, I’ll keep that in mind next time I conjure up a post-apocalyptic story idea. Ahem, Clovis, I’d like to introduce you to Randy the Barbarian, aka the Mad Lad, aka Four Loko Randy.” I motioned toward myself and grinned.

“So… you’re a barbarian like Montana?”

“Who?”

“From the Good Guys series.”

“Ah, that Montana. I met the author of that series once, Eric Ugland. He’s a bearded giant and a cool dude.”

“Is there another Montana I could have been referring to?” Clovis asked, not prying me for a story I was itching to tell about the time I discussed the extreme drought in Oregon with Ugland and some of the post-apocalyptic research he’d done.

“Um, Tony Montana?”

“Who?”

I raised an eyebrow at the spellbook. “From Scarface.”

“That’s that movie that rappers seem to always like.”

“What do you mean?”

“Whenever they show off their homes on TV, there’s a Scarface poster. I haven’t seen the movie, though.” He shrugged. “As for the nickname you’ve given yourself… Four Loko Randy? I can’t say I’m feeling that one. I still think Angel Farts is a better handle for you. I always imagined a little cherub passing gas whenever I read that name.”

“That makes me feel even dumber for that pen name.”

“There are much dumber pen names out there, trust me.”

“You aren’t wrong there. Anyway, just give me a moment here and we can keep moving. My energy levels are finally starting to chillax.”

Once I was ready, Clovis and I continued toward the shoreline, seagulls doing circles in the air above us, all sorts of fantasy denizens coming into view the closer we got to the series of barges. Clovis started to slow, allowing me to pass in front of him.

“What… what are you doing?”

“Please, just… could you just do the talking? There’s a lot of people up there. It will be loud.”

“No need to be shy, Clovis, and we’re outside. It can’t be that loud.”

“There are so many people up there.”

“Intakes, like us.’

“Yeah, intakes. You do the talking, unless we need some observational humor, then maybe I’ll be able to come up with something on the fly.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“The stop sign joke will probably work better with this crowd.”

“I promise you, it won’t. Anyway, just hang back and I’ll do the talking. No worries,” I told him as we approached the outer rim of the group. One thing I found strange about the whole affair was how my perspective had shifted once we arrived on the scene. From just about five hundred feet back, it seemed like there were loads of intakes. But now there was just a small group, including…

“Lothan,” I whispered, coming to a dead stop once I saw the dark elf at the front of the group. Clovis collided with my back, causing me to stumble forward and trip over my own feet. As I was just starting to get back up, a green hand appeared before me. I looked up to see the Japanese female goblin we’d met at the Ogreview Cafe. She helped me up.

“Thanks.”

“Emiko?” Clovis floated closer to her. “Unless you’re a different goblin.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you know another goblin from Japan?”

“Not at the moment.”

“It’s me.”

“Hey, you.”

“Enough, Clovis.” I took a look around, no longer seeing Lothan. The group had crowded together in front of the boat, maybe fifty intakes of varying size. There was a halfling rogue that immediately stood out, a female troll built like an absolute tank, some sort of kobold or dragonkin with a crazy-looking sword, and a wraith of a mage, her bleach-white skin stretched over an angular skeleton. Another one of the intakes certainly caught my eye through sheer size alone. The giant of a man stood several heads taller than anyone around him with grayish blue skin and a pair of white metal gloves. His back was to me at the moment, but he was shirtless, with a similar build to Drax the Destroyer. The only person that mirrored his size was a female ascendant with a great sword sheathed across her back, our very own Brienne of Tarth, short yellow hair and all.

“Are you okay?” Emiko asked, bringing me back to the current moment.

“Yeah.” I offered her a firm nod. “Anyway, nice seeing you here. Glad you made it. I’m guessing you didn’t fight the ogre back there.”

“Why would I fight the ogre when I can just go around it? There are better fights near the ogre, higher-level enemies and other mini-bosses worth more XP.”

“Yeah…” I looked at Clovis and shrugged. “Of course, of course. We, um, considered that but—”

“—I killed the ogre.”

“You killed it? How?” Emiko took a step closer to him, moving up to the tips of her toes so she could examine him better.

“Clovis…” I grabbed the spellbook and lowered him a foot.

“Hey!”

“She’s looking at you.”

Clovis snapped shut and hovered so he was now front facing. “I might be a book, but I’m not…”

“—An open book?” I asked, finishing his sentence. We both started laughing, Emiko offering the two of us an uncomfortable grin. “Sorry,” I told her. “Um, yeah, anyway, what’s going on here exactly?”

Emiko’s eyes darted to the front of the barge. “We are waiting to go to the tower. Once the tower keeper comes, he will tell us the rules and we will head to the First Realm.”

“And… how do you know this?” I asked her.

“He had an assistant here earlier that told us.”

I nodded. Finally, after several hard days of baffling fights and wizard-fueled shenanigans we had made it. This was it. The proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. It was time to climb that tower, and see if it was the real Satoshi at the top. I had my doubts.

Speaking of which...

“You’re Japanese.”

“Hai.”

“Ever heard of Satoshi?”

Emiko’s cheeks puffed out in a cute way. “Satoshi…”

A pair of trumpets with ribbons streaming from them appeared at the front of the barge. They sounded off, much louder than they should have been considering their size. As they did, the ribbons began to twist together, forming a cocoon. The cocoon split, the trumpets fizzled away, and we were left looking at a hefty, fox-eared person in black robes wearing a white plague mask floating above.

“Greetings,” he said, his voice amplified to the point that I could hardly focus on anything else. If there was such a thing as an audio version of tunnel vision, that was exactly what I experienced as the strange being continued: “Congratulations, all. You have completed the first tutorial, and are no longer intakes. You are now ascendants. I am the Tower Keeper. You may call me Kandor.”

There was a bit of murmuring, but this quickly softened as Kandor continued: “I will now explain what you should expect from the tower. Once I have finished, we will take our pod to the outer tower of the First Realm, which leads me to my next speaking point.” He gestured up at the tower, his ears twitching. “There are seven realms in the tower, all vast, unique in their own way. Each realm contains various floors that you will need to ascend in order to reach the top of the tower. You will start in the outer tower, which is usually where the tower residents reside. Your goal will be to reach the inner tower of each floor, where you will ascend.”

“Outer tower, inner tower, one big tower…” Clovis said under his breath. “I’m already confused.”

Kandor continued: “You are one of a thousand ascendants to reach the tower, divided into twenty pods of fifty ascendants each. For those of you that are elite ascendants, know that you will not be given any advantages, nor will the layout of the floors resemble what it has in the past due to the nature of the tower and its existence on the blockchain.”

Elite ascendants? I didn’t have time to ask Lily what Kandor the plague-masked kitsune meant by this.

“There are five floors in the First Realm of the tower. After you complete the first floor, you will have a time limit to climb the final four floors. You may divide your time up in any way that you’d like. The enemies you encounter will be relative to your current level, unless you run into a mini-boss, which is designed to be quite the challenge. But there is good news: each floor you clear will reward you with loot. I wish you all the best of luck on your journey to the top.” Kandor turned toward the tower and placed his hands behind his back. “Onward!”

The pod moved.

Clovis and I leaned toward the front, neither of us able to stop the force from moving us forward. I took this as a metaphor that there was no turning back, that the only way forward was up.

It was time to climb the tower. After all, we were now ascendants.

Chapter Fourteen: Flashback to Viagra Falls

Our pod set sail toward the tower, which was perched on top of a butte surrounded by epic waterfalls, a rim of mist around what I assumed was the tower’s lowest realm. It was hard to understand the scale of the structure itself, especially with how reality had morphed earlier and how it would likely morph in the future. But I could tell it was enormous, that as Lily had hinted, the tower was capable of containing vast realms and floors that seemed like worlds unto themselves.

Once I got my sea legs beneath me, I turned to Clovis: “We need to network.”

“Network? You’re kidding.”

I’d already seen the giant man, but there were others as well, lots of elf variations, spellswords, dwarves, ogres, even a bird-faced bard who had already started beatboxing, much to Emiko the goblin’s chagrin. She shouldered past the birdman, who wore a black and yellow jester costume, and continued on to the front of the crowd, Emiko’s size making it hard to find her.

“Like I was saying, networking,” I started to tell Clovis, but he had already wandered off, past a troll with big teeth and a woolen hat, and a smaller woman with a bony face, her armor engraved with webbing.

For fuck’s sake, Clovis… I was just about to move through the crowd to find the spellbook when the pod shifted forward. I took a few steps forward, right into the back of the giant of a man with grayish blue skin, his fists protected by white gloves.

“Sorry,” I told him once things were stable. “This is my first cruise.”

The big man turned to me with a scowl on his face, and for a moment I thought I was going to need to reach for my axe.

“Shee-it, did you say first cruise?” he asked, his accent clearly that of a Southerner.

“Are you from America?”

“No sir, I’m from Texas.” He smiled, the man’s face as chiseled as his features, his friendly demeanor at odds with his blazing red eyes that should have given him a demon vibe. He seemed like a big ol’ softy, but it was way too early to let my guard down. “You said cruise, and it made me think, hell, I ain’t never been on no cruise, but I had an aunt and uncle who liked to sail out of Beaumont. Or was it Port Arthur? I cain’t never remember. All them cities down there on the Gulf blend together, if you ask me. Anyhow, the name is Rune.”

“Rune?” I asked as he reached a big paw down to shake my hand.

“You got a name or should I call you axe-man?”

“You could call me Mad Lad, but the name is Randy—the noun, not the adjective—Randy Lionheart.”

“Randy Lionheart, huh?” He shook my hand, the material of his white glove feeling like some sort of chainmail. “Dang, and you’re here too, huh? Genera. Wherever this is, am I right?”

“I sure am, and you sure are,” I said, almost going with the Southern inflection myself. I found it hard to talk to people sometimes without mirroring the way they spoke, especially if the accent came naturally to me. “I’m from Oregon.”

“Oregon, up on the west coast, huh?”

“Pacific Northwest. That’s right.”

“Ain’t never been that far north. Went to Colorado once to ski. Saw me some snow. Should be called Cold-er-ado, if you ask me. Didn’t like that altitude neither. The barbeque is better in Texas and I’ll fight anyone who says differently. Anyway, where’d your little buddy go? Wasn’t there a magical book with you or something?”

“There was, I was actually looking for him when I ran into you.”

“Damn books, never could trust them,” he said with a smirk. “Kidding, but also not kidding. The last book I read was back in high school. The Giver? Maybe that’s the one. Cain’t remember the title. Had a crush on the librarian at my high school. She was straight out of grad school, ass the size of a barn and let me tell you, Randy, I tried. I really tried.”

“To… hook up with her?”

“Hell nah, that wasn’t going to happen. Shee-it, I was fifteen, and she was married with a bun in the oven. I tried to get into reading. Spent damn near my entire fall semester in that library just drooling every time she came by. Wanted to pretend like I had some mental issue so I could drop things and get her to bend over to pick them up, but even I knew that was wrong. Heh! Looking back, I should have done that. File it right here,” he said, tapping on his temple.

I decided at this moment that now wasn’t the time to tell him I was an author. I didn’t want to get into it, and I also wanted to make sure that Clovis hadn’t got into something that I would later have to un-fuck.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you…”

“Nice to meet me?” The big man laughed. “You didn’t even tell me how you got here. Before you go ghosting off, at least let me know that. Been asking everyone I meet. Find that part of all this fascinating, really. And I can say this: up to this point, ain’t none of y’all mofos as lucky as me.”

“Why’s that?”

“Hell, I was in prison in Huntsville, Texas when I was transported here. Do you know Huntsville, Texas?”

“I can’t say that I do.”

“About an hour outside of Houston. It’s literally a town built upon two industries—education and prison. Not really bedfellows, if you ask me. Shoot, I think there are like five state prisons there plus Sam Houston State University. The prison I was at was down the hill from the university, believe it or not. Always found that strange. Could almost see coeds out of my window.”

I really didn’t know what to tell the friendly-enough giant. Like anyone, I wondered what he had done to go to jail. It really could have been anything, but Rune didn’t strike me as the type to go in for a white-collar crime.

“I was in a sensory deprivation tank when I came here,” I told him.

“A… a what now?”

“A float tank?”

He squinted at me.

“Sort of an isolation tank where you are encapsulated in what resembles a crematorium furnace where you are floating in Epsom salt water. Cancel out your thoughts, get some ideas—that sort of thing.”

“You mean like solitary confinement?”

“Something like that.”

“And you paid for that?”

“Yeah…”

He started to laugh. “To each their own, I guess.”

The pod lurched forward again, both of our eyes going wide.

“Well, you’d better find that little buddy of yours.” Rune nodded his chin toward the waterfall ahead, which was increasingly starting to look like Niagara. “Books don’t like getting wet.”

“Good call.”

With our conversation on pause, I began navigating the crowd of ascendants, the huge waterfall looming over us.

I visited Niagara Falls with my cousin’s family when I was about ten years old. I remember my sixteen-year-old cousin, Kendall, calling it Viagra Falls, which annoyed my aunt to no end. It should have been a relatively uneventful trip, but my entire extended family was murdered in our hotel room while I slipped out to buy a candy bar from the vending machine.

Kidding.

What actually happened was much less eventful, but certainly traumatizing. My cousin Kendall was a bit of a bully. As I stood near the railing, the boat just started to turn away from one of the waterfalls, Kendall pretended as if he were going to shove me over the side, and by ‘pretend’ I mean he actually shoved me and I nearly went overboard. He got in trouble for it, but not before I developed a small fear of boats and waterfalls that lasted until my early twenties.

Now, as I squeezed in between all sorts of fantastical ascendants on the pod, I started to feel that panic yet again. I was fairly certain Kendall wasn’t here, but as the pod continued to rock, and the air grew mistier, my heart beat just a little faster.

And then I spotted Clovis.

As if he were sunbathing, the spellbook was sprawled out at the front of the pod, his pages open to the world, and already starting to get wet.

“Clovis…” I reached down to scoop him up, and as I did so the ribbon marker that Drozard the wizard had given him slipped out onto the deck.

“Randy?” Clovis asked on the tail end of a yawn. “Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me,” I told him.

I grabbed his ribbon marker as well, and as I did information appeared.

Drozard’s Ribbon Marker Token (Legendary)

This legendary token allows you to cast any spell you’d like, single-use only. Get creative. To activate the spell, announce what you would like to do and say ‘activate.’ To deactivate the spell, do the same but say ‘deactivate.’

I didn’t feel right doing it, but in the end, I thought it would be better for me to manage such a legendary token.

With this in mind, I sent the Ribbon Marker Token to my inventory list. In doing so, I quickly realized something else that Lily hadn’t fully explained, but made total sense: items kept on our person, like the scabbard at my belt, didn’t appear as a token, not until they were sent to my inventory list. Otherwise, I would have seen what Clovis had in his inventory list because of our Guild Token.

“Clovis, you’re all wet…”

He yawned yet again, the air thickening with mist as the falls grew closer. “I felt like resting.”

“Just…” I hated putting the spellbook under my shirt, but it made the most sense, Clovis yet again warm against my skin. We were going to have to find a different way to deal with water; there was no way in hell I was going to keep clutching him tightly to my chest.

Sure enough, by the time I reached the other ascendants, Clovis was already dozing off, snoring lightly against my chest.

What have I gotten myself into? I thought as my eyes fell upon Lothan the dark elf, who was near the pod’s railing, avoiding the others. He wore dark armor with an odd glow around his shoulders, his rapier at his side.

I contemplated if I should approach him or not, perhaps giving the drow a piece of my mind. It was clear that at some point, whether it be on the first floor of the First Realm, or once we rose closer to the top, that we would come into conflict.

But what to say?

After the fact, I was great at coming up with clever disses and comebacks, but I needed time to formulate something witty. Since he was close to the railing, I could always pull a Kendall and shove him off, but that wasn’t exactly my style either. Not only that, the waves were getting choppier now, and I found it increasingly hard to stand without spreading my legs wide like I was midway through a jumping jack. There was also Clovis, who I still had under my gnome gear.

In the end, I never needed to go over to Lothan. The drow turned in my direction. As it had been before, his black hair was slicked behind his elven ears, the yellow runes in his eyes twisting as they settled on me. “So, you made it,” he said, his lips curled to some degree as he took me in.

“That’s…” Dammit, get it together, Randy. Where’s the Mad Lad? Where’s Four Loko Randy? I thought to myself as I changed tactics. Talk some shit! “If I were you—”

I’m no weakling as you should know by now in the way I was able to clear out those goblin-gnomes. But I wasn’t able to finish the rest of my threat, not because I didn’t want to threaten Lothan, but because of something else.

Because of goddamn Clovis.

“Did… did you just fart?” Lothan asked me in his slight European accent.

“No,” I said.

Clovis can fart? I thought, wishing I could pound the book with my arm. At least I hadn’t smelled anything.

With perfect comedic timing, the kind that only Clovis seems to be able to muster, the spellbook farted again, only louder this time, his flatulence heard over the sloshing waves and turning a few heads in my direction.

“If I were you, intake, I would do whatever it took to stay out of my way. Only the strong will survive this game, and make it to the higher realms. You’ll see what I mean soon.” Lothan turned away, leaving me holding the gassy spellbook against my chest.

****

The enormous waterfall made it impossible to see the tower, everything obscured by fog. The misty water in the air felt fresh against my face; it gathered in dew drops on my beard, and had me cursing the closer we got to the falls due to lack of shelter. I was drenched by this point, and still held Clovis to my chest, the Avariel spellbook snoozing. How did Clovis speak? How did he snore? And most importantly, how did he fart?

These were all questions that I would likely never know the answer to.

Here we go, I thought as we started to press through the waterfall itself. If I knew a good sound for a waterfall cascading all around me, I would insert it here. Maybe whoosh? It was much more than a woosh, the sound and power of the falls amplified, like the Pacific Ocean as it rammed against the Oregon coastline.

Everyone was soaked by the powerful waterfall together, some sort of rite of passage, a few of them complaining, others simply standing there and letting it happen, like Emiko. For his part, Rune tilted his head back and opened his mouth so he could drink some of the water.

“That’s mighty fresh,” the big man said as he lapped it up. “Ain’t had water that good since the time I visited Barton Springs. Not supposed to drink that water, but it’s cold, and it was good. Didn’t get too sick neither.”

And then the sound ceased.

Our pod pressed into an impossibly large underground cavern, what resembled an enormous tree in the center holding up the ceiling, glows of various colors hanging above us. I saw some of the other pods, both to the left and right of our craft, all equally drenched. There was something kaleidoscopic about it, all of us getting a firsthand experience, yet each ship coming in at its own angle like someone had copied and pasted an image over and over again.

Kandor the Tower Keeper appeared again, the kitsune in the white plague mask hovering in the air above us, all of my peers drenched. I looked left and right yet again and saw that each of the ships had their own Tower Keeper, and I wondered if all of them were replicants of Kandor. I had my suspicions.

“Once you step off this boat, you will be given room and board for the night,” he said, his voice amplified. “The rooms will be comfortable, and they will give you a view of the first floor, where you will begin your first challenge in the morning. You will not be able to interact with the other ascendants, unless you have joined a guild.”

Some of the ascendants gathered around me murmured at this announcement.

“You will be served breakfast in the morning of your choosing. Tonight’s dinner has already been prepared.”

“What about this challenge?” Rune asked aloud in his southern twang. “It’s the first floor, right? What are we supposed to do?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Kandor dipped his head toward the giant man, his plague mask giving off a Jigsaw killer vibe. “There are just over one thousand ascendants at the moment. The ascendancy to the second floor of the First Realm, where you will be introduced to the Endless Desert, will begin once there are nine hundred ascendants.”

There are a thousand now, and only nine hundred can make it to the next floor… I thought, realizing what the Tower Keeper was hinting at.

“Are you saying we have to fight and kill each other?” the rogue halfling to my left asked.

“That is precisely what I’m saying. The first floor will be a deathmatch until there are nine hundred of you. Hopefully, you have spent the three days given to you leveling up. Many of you have already started to multiclass, which will come in handy in this next challenge. But do not get cocky with your current power levels. Remember, there are five floors in the First Realm, and this is the only challenge that will be structured in this way.”

“Clovis…” I said as I tapped on the book that was still under my shirt. I released him and he floated up next to me, drooping a bit as if he were waking up.

“What did I miss?” he asked on the tail end of a yawn.

“There’s going to be a deathmatch tomorrow.”

“A literal deathmatch?” he asked as some of the other ascendants began moving past him, toward the plank that would serve as an exit.

“That’s what was announced. But…” I gave him a thumbs up. “I have a plan. A good one, too.”

“Are we going to kick some ass and take some names?” Turquoise energy began radiating around him, a few of the ascendants in our pod taking notice.

“Not exactly.” Yet another spellsword shouldered past me, the woman offering me a grunt and a prissy look. “But we will survive.”

Chapter Fifteen: A Snooze and a Revelation on the First Floor

Clovis and I never reached the shore and the giant, world-tree structure beyond. We were just about to step off the pod when we appeared in a swanky hotel room, our reality changed yet again. A pair of plush beds anchored the center of the space, the rest of the decor defined by a sparkling chandelier, several vintage lamps, a little writing table, a huge walk-in shower lined with subway tile, and a balcony overlooking the first floor. Not only that, there was a small, wrought-iron table on the balcony, a meal already set out for me.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

I slid out onto a cordoned-off balcony, and got a glimpse of the first floor. It was massive, like looking out on the Serengeti, rolling plains and clusters of trees around rivers, something resembling the central Asian steppe or what I imagined parts of Oklahoma looked like. I knew that the interior of the tower was going to defy space and time, but to see such an expanse, a horizon that continued on and on, was something I would not have guessed.

But before I could comment on the floor, or start strategizing for tomorrow’s deathmatch, I needed something in my stomach. Luckily, they had provided a decent meal of mashed potatoes and steak, as well as caramelized carrots that were as sweet as if they had been prepared in a Dutch oven.

I dug in, and it was only after I was finished stuffing my face that I noticed Clovis now floating just past the railing, the spellbook watching me mop up what was left with a baked potato peel.

“You eat like an animal.”

I grinned at Clovis. “I feel like an animal when I am this hungry. You’re lucky, you know. You don’t have to eat anything. But you do get gassy…”

“Do I?”

“Wait, you don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

I decided not to get into how he had interrupted me with his flatulence just as I was about to talk some shit to Lothan. It was clear that the dark elf, whose favorite weapon appeared to be a magical rapier, was at a much higher level than I was, and had probably multiclassed.

Maybe it was better that Clovis had interrupted me…

Everyone seemed to be at a higher level than us, which was going to prove problematic unless we got clever really quick. It was almost stupid luck that I had been able to find out about Clovis’ ribbon marker in the first place. But come tomorrow I had this feeling that it was going to be a lifesaver. And for once in my life, I’d already had schemed up a way for us to use it.

“It sure is pretty out there, isn’t it?” Clovis tilted toward the rolling plains that lay before us. “I wonder if there are any wild animals out there, like the ones they have in Africa.”

“You mean like zebras and elephants?”

“They have other animals in Africa, Randy.”

“Aware,” I told him, not certain if he was being snappy or not.

“Have you ever been to Africa?”

I pressed back into my chair and placed my hands behind my head, my belly slightly distended from the steak and taters. “I can’t say that I have, but I always wanted to go see the pyramids, and I had a friend who said Lagos was a sweet city to visit. It’s one of those places that I figure I’ll go one day if the funds permit it.” Silence stretched between us; I felt that Clovis was waiting for me to ask him about the continent. “What about you? Have you… been to Africa?”

“Several times, mostly to Capetown. My mom is from South Africa, you know.”

“She is?”

“But she isn’t black.”

“I didn’t assume that she was black…”

“Actually, she’s white, but my dad is black. My dad is from Georgia, and my mom is from South Africa. It’s always funny when I tell people that she is from South Africa because people think that she is black, but she’s actually white from South Africa. Don’t worry, she’s not into the apartheid or anything.”

I shook my head at the spellbook’s bizarre comment. “I… wasn’t going to assume that she was into that.”

“It is strange going back, you know. I feel sort of like Trevor Noah, yet not like him at all because I’m from here and he’s actually from there. Also, I can’t do impressions, but I can do observational humor.”

I stifled a snort at this comment. “If you keep working on your routine…”

“I thought I was pretty funny back there at the Ogreview Cafe. I just don’t think it was my crowd.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Clovers, keep telling yourself that.”

A sense of ennui rolled down my shoulders once I got to my feet, my periphery starting to slow. Was it something in the food? I barely made it to the hotel bed, where I fell straight onto my stomach, the world dimming around me. I planned to use the rest of the evening to plot out how Clovis and I would pull off the deathmatch tomorrow. I had a good idea, but I wanted time to think of some other angles as well.

No such luck.

I ended up crashing harder than I had in a long time, no getting up to take a whiz, no tossing and turning as I tried to figure out my bills, no book plotting or worrying about digital sales rank, of which all writers are prone to do, no beating myself up about Chelsea my ex-wife or the money I’d burned on Harmon Tokens. I didn’t even get to say goodnight to Clovis, who as far as I knew, was either sleeping on the balcony, or hovering over me wondering why I’d gone down so suddenly.

It was unfortunate, too. I really wanted to prep for the deathmatch.

****

How does one prepare to fight to the death? Further, would the people that we were tasked with fighting actually die?

It was early the next morning now, the sun coming up, the balcony door open, a cool breeze trickling into the room, the light creeping over my face. For a moment, I was reminded of one of those cold Oregon mornings right after a long night of rain, the kind that made me want to turn around and curl up with my blanket.

“Lily…” I groaned.

<Good morning, Randy. Soon, you will begin the deathmatch on the first floor. Good luck.>

“Good morning to you, too. Hey,” I told her as I squinted up at the beige ceiling, “I got questions about these other ascendants, maybe a stupid one. They’re all from Earth, right?”

<All intakes who later become ascendants are from the same place that you came from, yes. I’m afraid I don’t know more about their countries of origin, but all of you hail from the same planet.>

“So, Earth, right?”

<That is correct.>

“There are a thousand ascendants now, and a hundred of them have to go. And that means that they become… what was the term?” It was early, I hadn’t had my coffee in days, and I was drawing blanks.

<Once an ascendant or an intake dies, they become part of the synthetic reality of Genera.>

“So they die.”

<They become part of Genera’s synthetic reality, yes.>

“So they aren’t NPCs; I mean, they’re real people.”

Clovis, who was sleeping on the other bed, his pages splayed open as always, slowly began to drift up into the air and turn in my direction. “Did… did you say NPCs? I hadn’t thought much about that. I just assumed everyone here was alive in some way.”

“Probably better to assume that,” I told him. “Look, I’ll be honest with both of you.”

“...Both of us?”

“I’m talking to Lily, too, Clovis.”

“Oh, the voice in your head. Mine keeps talking to me, I can’t seem to mute them.”

It took a lot not to roll my eyes at this comment. “You know we would be pretty much screwed today if I didn’t have a plan, right? Some of those other ascendants were already multiclassing. That means in three days they pushed past Level 15, Clovis. Level 15. I’m at Level 5, you’re at Level 2. We are outmatched. I’m not going to say we suck, but we definitely aren’t great at the moment.”

“We’ll get there.”

“We will, but we’re going to have to get clever if we hope to survive in the meantime.”

I would have told Clovis more, and perhaps I would have talked to Lily about the fact that what Kandor was asking us to do in taking part in a deathmatch was essentially murder, but we were subsequently interrupted.

Drozard the wizard was suddenly standing in the room, smiling at the two of us with his crooked teeth. I pressed back, naturally going for my axe, which was still sheathed at my side forcing me to sleep in a funny way.

The wizard smiled at both of us and lifted his arms, a bit of glitter falling out of his shabby, dark-blue robes. “Good morning, ascendants! Care to join me for breakfast?”

“Do you have any gluten-free options?”

I sighed. “You can’t even eat, Clovis.”

“I mean for you, Randy. It’s best that you watch your gluten intake.”

“So you have a guild now, do you?” asked Drozard, the wizard peering at us in a curious way. “Ah, yes, a Guild Token. Why, I see it right there! I should have assumed as much considering the fact you two are rooming together. Do you happen to have a guild name?”

“I had a dream about calling our guild the Mitherfickers, but I don’t know why.”

“Mitherfickers?” I asked Clovis. “Why don’t you just come on out and say it?”

“Say what?”

“The word. Motherfuckers. I’m not agreeing with the name for our guild, but it’s better than what you said. How does one even arrive at the name Mitherfickers?”

“I read it in a book, some fantasy LitRPG. I wish I could remember the name. Fantasy… Online… something. It was years ago.” A couple of pages flew out of Clovis, as if he were puffing his cheeks and blowing some air out. Since I was still on the bed, I had to hop off to catch the pages and then stuff them back into the spellbook. “That tickles!”

“Hang onto your pages. Now, Drozard…”

I turned back to the wizard to see him motioning toward the balcony. I didn’t like how he had control over reality—our once-quaint balcony now with a long table on it—but I briefly changed my opinion of Drozard once I saw food from my world, bacon and home fries, coffee, French toast, stacks and stacks of pancakes and waffles with dollops of butter on them, maple syrup oozing onto the plates as if the hotcakes had been stabbed to death. Not to mention bowls of freshly diced fruit, eggs Benedict, English muffins, strudels and all sorts of pastries, from French to Italian, cinnamon rolls the size of Leia’s buns.

More glitter fell out of Drozard’s sleeve as he beckoned us forward yet again. “Will you join me?”

“You came here to have breakfast with us?”

“I really hope there are some gluten-free options…”

“Not now, Clovis.” I smoothed my hands over the front of my basic gnome gear. Once I felt I was presentable enough, I stepped out onto the balcony and sat down at one end of the table, Drozard sitting at the other.

“Please, eat.”

After filling up my plate I proceeded to shovel food into my mouth, immediately noticing that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

The taste.

Everything was off about it. While the bacon looked crispy, it wasn’t, nor was it salty. The waffles looked piping hot but they were cold on the inside, like a frozen Eggo I used to have as a kid. They also had no flavor. I had never tasted food like this before, so bland that it was making me ill, a situation made even worse because I knew what it was all supposed to taste like. For a moment, I thought I’d lost my sense of taste (did I have Covid?), but then I licked my arm and it definitely tasted salty.

“I’m sorry breakfast isn’t what you would have liked,” said Drozard, the wizard with his chin resting in his palms, beard hanging onto the table and dipped into a saucer of syrup. “I thought it would be the best way for me to introduce you to some of the elite ascendants. You have heard the term by now, right?”

“I haven’t,” said Clovis.

“Yes, you have. Kandor the gatekeeper used the term. I forgot to ask Lily what it meant.”

“An elite ascendant is someone who has reached the top of the tower,” Drozard said, a weary smile forming on his face, a hint of something more behind his pale blue eyes. “They are given four options once they achieve this incredible feat. They can return to the bottom and start over yet again; they can leave and return to the world from which they came; they can start their own tower; or they can live at the top, or in any city in any of the realms, and affect the gameplay for new intakes and ascendants.”

Clovis dropped onto the table, scattering some of the food. “Sorry, my mind was just blown,” he said, the book now face-down in a pile of scrambled eggs. I reached for him and began wiping off egg yolk that weirdly enough, wasn’t yolky. It was like dust.

“Clovis, you’ve got to be careful. You’re a fucking book,” I said, my focus returning to Drozard.

“Sorry, just trying to be dramatic.”

“How many elite ascendants are there?” I asked the wizard.

“Quite a few, actually, and today, those elite ascendants voted to serve you an amazing breakfast that tasted terrible.”

“Why would they do that?” I sent Clovis away and ate one of the floppy pieces of bacon out of spite. It sort of tasted like chewing on the end of a belt.

“I can’t speak to how they act, or the things that they will do as you begin to progress through the floors, but be wary of them. Some will help, others will hinder, and all will remain anonymous.”

“So… they’re watching at all times?”

“Some are, some aren’t. Many just get recaps of the events. It’s magic, Randy, the whole tower is and all its seven realms. As to the type of magic, that’s not something I’m prepared to detail at this point, but there are two general classifications: existential and elemental magic. Regarding the elite ascendants, it’s not like they physically need to be able to watch what you’re doing, but they can influence what happens through people like me.”

“You mean like…” I remembered the strange mission Drozard had given us to loot homunculus bodies, not to mention the demented open mic hosted by Drizzy that had led to a bar brawl.

“Yes, exactly like my little challenge to you in the woods, and my sister’s challenge at the Ogreview Cafe.”

Clovis stopped facing me and turned in Drozard’s direction. “You know about that?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Did you happen to see my performance?”

“I did not, but I heard terrible things.”

“Ha! Nice joke. Another question: where’s that llama that was with you?”

“To be clear: you aren’t one of these elite ascendants, are you?” I asked, interrupting Clovis.

“No, I’m a wizard,” Drozard said, almost as if the statement had offended him. “But I do work for them, as does Drizzy, as do others you will meet if you survive the day’s event.”

I hated to do it, but I reached for the coffee and took a sip, grimacing as the scalding-hot water burnt my tongue. No, I probably shouldn’t have taken such a fast sip of it, but I did so almost in protest of what I just learned, as an F-U to these elite ascendants, aware that I would heal pretty quickly.

“So… This is some sort of prank then?” asked Clovis.

“Unfortunately, I can’t speak for the whims of the elite ascendants, but I can tell you that some operate among you, that there is a desire for those who make it to the top to challenge themselves yet again by going with a different character build. I’ve seen it all, really.”

“Sort of like new-game-plus,” I said, Clovis nodding in agreement.

Drozard shook his sleeve away from his wrist and took a look at a large watch, the kind that a rich guy or a superstar athlete would wear. It was gold, full of jewels, and looked obnoxious. “Joy. It is time for the deathmatch to begin. I’m sorry you haven’t had a proper breakfast, Randy, but at least you had a proper dinner.”

I recalled the steak, potatoes, and carrots that instantly knocked me out. “Yeah, one that poisoned me and made me fall asleep…”

“Ah, that,” the wizard said, once again with a weary smile. “That was for your own benefit. It is important to get rest before beginning a deathmatch, and we didn’t want to give you too much time to strategize. Rest assured: all of the ascendants were given their favorite foods and forced to sleep early.”

“So that’s what you call drugging someone, huh?”

Drozard stood and clasped his hands together. “Good luck today, Randy, Clovis. I’m rooting for you.”

“You say that to everyone,” Clovis told the wizard as he started to fade away.

I had a feeling he wasn’t wrong.

Chapter Sixteen: Deathmatch

I wasn’t given any time to finish my terrible breakfast bequeathed to me by elite ascendants to prove some asinine point. Just about the same moment that Drozard the wizard disappeared, the table and all the bland food in front of me fizzled out of existence, as if someone had turned an old TV off and it took a moment for the picture to fade away.

Clovis and I reformed somewhere on the savanna below, my insides tingling for a moment. I stood near a few of the same people we’d come here with, the wraith, the halfling rogue, as well as a dragonkin with two swords sheathed at his waist. There were other groups as well, each pod in its own quadrant of the large open plain that made up the first floor. Some of the other ascendant groups were closer to ours than others, but all of us seemed to be within the same square-mile radius of one another. It was hard to believe we were in a tower, let alone a single floor of the First Realm. There was a sky here, clouds, two suns—it seemed like an entire world to itself.

I quickly waved to Rune, the giant of a man licking his lips as if he was trying to get a taste out of his mouth. He offered me a curt nod in response, which reminded me that all of us were enemies for the time being. There was also Emiko, the Japanese goblin holding a spear and looking poised to engage in her paneled Asian armor, who didn’t make eye contact with me, her focus on the horizon. I also saw a few of the spellswords, dwarves, what I would describe as a vampiric-looking dryad, a lady in a full-body suit with her elven ears pulled back by a bandana. There was even the rapping bird bard I’d seen yesterday, who had his game face on, his chin tilting left and right as he apparently went through rhymes in his head. I’d seen people do this on the TriMet in Oregon, sort of an Eminem from 8 Mile vibe, but more of a junkie vibe there in Portland.

I spotted Lothan. A sinister grin traced across his face as he looked up to Kandor the Tower Keeper, who had just come onto the scene. I had to shield my brow with my hand to see the plague-masked kitsune, one of two suns directly behind casting a shadow over some of the ascendants. As it had before, his voice echoed far and wide: “You will have one minute to get into position. The deathmatch will end once there are nine hundred ascendants on the playing field. Parameters have been set up around all the pods to keep the fight manageable. Currently, there are approximately one thousand and eleven of you. Two died last night, which have thinned your numbers to some degree.”

“What happened to them?” Clovis asked, loud enough to draw attention from some of the other ascendants.

Kandor slowly turned his head in Clovis’ direction. “They took their own lives.”

None of the others said anything about this, aside from Rune, who let out a sad grunt as if he’d been around this kind of thing before. Considering he was an inmate back in the real world, it wouldn’t have surprised me to know that he had been around that sort of thing.

“Your minute begins… now.”

The ascendants began to scatter, a few sparking up with magic, others trying to put some distance between themselves and their peers.

“Randy?” Clovis asked, turning to me, a single page starting to slip out of him.

“I’m going to keep you under my shirt again. Not ideal, but it will work for now.”

“Okay…”

I grabbed Clovis out of the air, tucked him under my gnome gear, and started to run in the opposite direction of the others. As I did, a set of numbers appeared where health bars would be if I had them, a timer and an ascendant headcount.

There wasn’t anywhere to really hide on the open plain, even if there were trees far outside the fighting grounds, which were cordoned off by a visible red line of energy.

“What are we doing?” Clovis asked as I turned back to the other ascendants, the spellbook suddenly warm against my chest.

Rather than answer, I summoned the Ribbon Marker Token. “Make us invisible!” As soon as these words left my lips—and sure, I could have made them sound cooler than I did—I felt a subtle change. My hands and fingers glimmered in a new way, which indicated to me that I could no longer be seen. I moved from the spot I’d just been standing in, and in doing so I paid close attention to the ground to make sure I wasn’t leaving behind any footprints.

No footprints, no shadow—I was good. The deathmatch was ours to survive.

“Are we really invisible?”

“We certainly are,” I told Clovis in a low voice. There wasn’t anyone standing around me, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t hear us. “And keep it down. We’re going to wait this little deathmatch out. Cheap? Sure, but we’re underleveled at the moment, severely underleveled.” I unsheathed Axl Rose just in case. While there was a scenario in which I went around hacking at people in my Invisible Man get-up, I still needed to keep Clovis safe, and it was easier to hold him to my chest with my free arm than rely on the spellbook to stay put.

“We’re really invisible? How did you pull that off?”

“That’s…” I sighed, suddenly feeling terrible for betraying my guildmate. “Look, I don’t know how to say it other than just come out with it: I did something.”

“Clearly!”

“I shouldn’t have done it, and I should have told you when I did, but I did it anyway. That’s how.”

The timer was now ten seconds from going off. I spotted Emiko standing about fifty feet away, her spear at the ready, the goblin prepping to hold her ground.

“Wait, are you telling me you are magical all along?”

“I wish, and you should know that I’m not considering you have access to my stats. Never mind. Remember your Ribbon Marker?”

“The bookmark that the llama wizard gave me? Sort of. I think I lost it.”

“You didn’t lose it. Well, yes, you did, but I found it. And… I used it to turn us invisible.”

The timer flashed; the fight kicked off immediately with little fanfare and absolutely no posturing.

An elf with a broadsword moved on Emiko, who held her own. The Japanese goblin parried his attack and drove him back, making it clear that it wouldn’t be easy to get in close to her. She focused on her periphery as she did so, able to avoid an opponent that had already gone down, a dagger in the back of his head. As engaging as all of this was, there was still the confession I’d just made to Clovis, which he was still focused on.

“So… you stole my bookmark?”

“Ribbon Marker.” I let out a deep breath, one tinged in regret. “And yeah, something like that. Nope, I did it. No sense in beating around the bush. I stole it, and I should have told you about it. Fuck, Clovers, I’m sorry. I just thought it would help us, and you didn’t seem to pay any attention to it anyway, not that that’s any excuse.”

A female troll built like a tank snapped her whip at any and everyone, a wild look on her face accented by her big teeth, and dampened to some degree by the wooly bucket hat on her head that must have given her some sort of stat boost. It was an ugly accoutrement.

I quickly focused back on what Clovis was saying.

“And… what does the bookmark do exactly?”

“It allows the user, which happened to be me, any magic power of my choosing. Just a one-off, if that makes sense. I should have told you about it, but when I heard the challenge…”

“So… you made us invincible or invisible? You said invisible, right?”

“Invisible…”

I felt gutted as a new notion came to me, yet another reason I should have consulted with Clovis. Had I made us invincible, I could have gone around kicking everyone’s ass and getting a level or three, rather than waiting on the sidelines like a wimp. In my haste, I had wasted the token. “Actually, that would have been a better option. I should have… I should have conferred with you,” I told him, truly wanting to kick myself in the ass at that moment.

He moved beneath my shirt as if he were shrugging. “I guess it’s okay. If I had known it could do that, I would have used the bookmark to stop the voice in my head.”

A loud cry from Emiko interrupted our conversation. There was fighting all around her now, dust kicked into the air, weapons clanking together, utter chaos. She was in trouble; the elf with the sword she was fighting had her pinned, Emiko’s weapon several feet away and sticking out of the ground, her opponent moments away from slaying the Japanese goblin.

I had to do something.

****

“Let’s go,” I told Clovis, even though I was the one holding the spellbook to my chest. I sheathed my axe and took off toward Emiko. I swooped in just-in-time and yanked her up with one arm, which had the effect of turning the female goblin invisible as well.

Her swordsman opponent whipped around, confused, and also trying to protect himself from what he clearly thought was magic. Whack! He was struck by a massive stone wielded by Rune, who had gone full rage mode, the sound of the elf’s skull caving in making me cringe.

I watched as a number ticked down on the ascendant counter.

Rune had killed him.

“What are you doing?” Emiko asked, the redhead goblin glaring up at me. She had yet to whip her arm away from my grip.

“We’re invisible.”

“You mean… we’re cheating?”

“No, we’re not cheating. This is a strategy-based game, all of it will be. We’re not at the same level as others.”

“What do you mean by we?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

“I’m here too,” Clovis said from under my shirt.

She puffed her cheeks out. “Eh! The book?”

“Yes,” I told her.

“You… you saved me.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because you helped us out the other day in giving us that money. Even though we were later robbed by ogres.”

“And a gnome,” Clovis added.

“Thorgrim,” I said under my breath, a name I wouldn’t soon forget.

“That’s the name of a character from the book Axe Druid.”

“Good to know…” I told Clovis as a knight in shoddy armor stumbled past us. Emiko extended her foot, tripping him, which allowed the rogue halfling I’d seen earlier to hop on top of the man, pull his neck back, and slit his throat, blood spraying into the air.

The ascendant number ticked down yet again.

“It would be easier if you hold my hand,” Emiko said, and before I could act she transitioned her hand into mine.

Clover started to giggle. “Holding hands with a female goblin. It’s your lucky day, Angel Farts.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked as Emiko led us deeper into the fight, my arm still across my chest to hold the spellbook in place.

“It just sounds like something that your pen name would write, something I would read. You never did do a follow-up to Oh, Great, I Fell in Love with a Demon Mimic and Now I’m Going to Hell to Become a Dungeoncore Farmer. I’m disappointed, but it’s okay. I’m into various genres, some of them more niche than others. I’m not a big romance reader, but lately I started reading grumpy single dad romances.”

“What? Why?” I hissed, Clovis’ monologue having a way of snapping me out of the fight playing out before us.

“Mostly because I identify with being single, and I appreciate a protagonist who has a lot to prove. I usually skip the romance part.”

“But specifically grumpy?”

“What is the book talking about?” Emiko asked. “Also, keep your voice down; someone may hear us.”

She wasn’t wrong.

The ascendant numbers were cascading—currently about forty more to go before this floor was complete. Not only that, we were pressing into the thick of it, the dead, injured, and dying all around us.

After she retrieved her spear, Emiko paused several times to let fights play out in front of her. She stopped me just in time to avoid an enormous fireball, one that scorched the soil and killed its target after a bout of painful screams.

Fwit! Fwit! Fwit!

Three arrows sailed right over my head and struck an ogre with face tattoos, the brute dropping his club as he took one lumbering step forward and collapsed.

The ascendant numbers continued to drop.

It wouldn’t be long now.

“There he is,” Emiko said. “We might as well use this invisibility to our advantage.”

I followed her pointing finger to a dark elf shifting rapidly around a cloaked mage. I recognized Lothan immediately, and the way he moved with his rapier made me realize something I hadn’t really considered before—it was a good thing Clovis had farted on the barge, disrupting my shittalking to the dark elf.

Lothan would have handed me my ass.

“What’s going on up there, Randy?” Clovis asked from beneath my shirt. “It sounds like the pots and pans are fighting in the kitchen. Reminds me of Beauty and the Beast.”

Lothan mercilessly killed the mage with his rapier, the woman’s eyes sparking white as she fell to the ground, her robes melting into a brown puddle. I saw the numbers again—917 ascendants left—had they really dropped that rapidly?

By the time I focused again, Lothan was gone.

Emiko yanked my hand in a panicked way, and we were just about to move on when I heard a voice behind me.

“Not so fast, intake,” Lothan sneered.

I felt something prick the small of my back, all the hairs on the back of my neck instantly standing to attention.

It was over.

Lothan had me pinned.

Chapter Seventeen: I Should Be Dead Right Now (But I’m Not)

Saved by the Bell was not only a TV show I remember watching when I was younger, it is precisely what happened just about the moment Lothan was about to literally stab me in the back.

The ascendant counter had reached 900. The deathmatch was over.

“Weapons down!” Kandor was suddenly floating above the field of battle, the plague-masked-kitsune’s voice amplified to an absurd degree.

“You are lucky, intake.” Lothan lowered his weapon. “Extremely lucky.”

I instantly felt better as a deep breath filled my lungs, the dark elf stepping away from me. “Funny, I seem to remember having my Luck Token stolen from me. I guess it isn’t working out for you…” I said, mostly after the fact.

There was a large part of me that wanted to go after Lothan at that moment. But something told me using a weapon after the Gate Keeper had called for the end of fighting was a big no-no.

“So we won?” Clovis asked from beneath my shirt.

“Not exactly, we survived.”

I realized at that moment that I was still holding Emiko the goblin’s hand. She seemed to realize this at the same time that I did, both of us quickly letting go. I also released Clovis, who floated up next to me, a few pages sticking out as always.

“What now?”

“I believe we’re about to find out,” I quickly told the spellbook.

“FYI—you’re still invisible. I can’t see you.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Mention of my invisibility caused me to curse at myself yet again for not using the Ribbon Marker Token in a better way. There were dozens, no, thousands of ways that I could have used it. I imagined myself as a reader in that moment, wondering why I was so stupid. But the truth was this was real life for me. And reading, even for works written in present tense, always came coupled with immediate hindsight. Ask anyone that has been portaled to a batshit fantasy world, told to climb a tower that defies space and time, and to find themselves partnered with a misguided spellbook—mistakes are made even with the best decisions.

<Congratulations, Randy, you have completed the first floor of the First Realm.>

“Aware, Lily.” An idea came to me; “Do you think you could maybe kick it up a notch? You know, be one of those clever or snarky companion AIs. Do I need a token for that?”

<To be clear, you would prefer that I be less formal?>

“Is that even a possibility? If so, sure, be less formal.”

Kandor started up again in his booming voice, the kitsune overpowering the chatter around me: “In a moment, all of you will begin your ascent to the second floor of the First Realm. From there, you will be free to do what you like. You will have four days to reach the final floor of the First Realm and complete it, where you will ascend to the Second Realm. You are no longer permitted to kill other ascendants. If you do so, you will be executed yourself and made part of Genera’s synthetic reality. This includes poisoning and other ways that you could potentially take a peer’s life. Your companion AI will provide further instruction once you reach the second floor. Good luck, ascendants.”

With that, Kandor exploded into bits of red and white confetti that flashed all around us. My body began to tremble.

“What’s happening, Randy?” Clovis asked, the turquoise energy that radiated around him now sparking and fizzling.

“Shit, I… I don’t know!”

The sensation that followed was akin to getting a level. Energy moved through me, and spiraling around my arms and legs as everyone began to float. Clovis and I exploded toward the sky of the first floor as if we’d been shot out of a stunt cannon, all the other ascendants doing the same, reverse falling stars.

The two of us appeared in a new space, one that had a medieval village vibe to it, homes interspersed with coniferous trees and higher walkways, spires on some of the buildings reminiscent of an old New England town yet more druid-like, many structures covered in vines, flowering vegetation all around, and tons of mandra elves.

“That was insane,” I told Clovis, and only Clovis. I didn’t see any other ascendants at the moment, including Emiko, who had been standing right next to us.

The spellbook did a frantic spin, nearly lost a page, and snapped himself shut to catch it.

“Lily, where are we exactly?” I asked, recalling that Kandor said she would give us further instruction.

<Now, you’ve got questions, huh? Just about the only time you ever talk to me is when you have bloody questions.>

“Um… Lily?” I asked, not quite sure what to make of her new tone. She still had a British accent, but it was like she’d come alive. Even though I wasn’t expecting it, I sort of liked it!

<Kidding, kidding. I’m here to bloody help and you know that, Angel Farts. You would prefer that I be less formal, well, here I am in all my glory.>

“That’s… that’s great, and please, call me Randy.”

<Randy, the noun, not the adjective. How many times have you said that already?>

“Just a handful…” I continued to look around, hoping to figure out what we should do next. Clearly, we needed levels, especially Clovis. We also needed to get our heads in the game. I was progressing fine enough, but the other ascendants seemed to be much stronger than me; while it didn’t seem like we’d have another deathmatch anytime soon, there really was no telling what would happen next.

A female mandra elf walked right into me. The woman jumped back, screamed, and took off, a vine growing out of her back with a barb on it as she did so, some sort of defense mechanism.

“Did you know that you were still invisible?” Clovis asked me.

“I am?” I looked down at my hand and noticed it had a strange glint to it. “Um, invisibility off?”

The words had a sudden effect, the female mandra elf who had just bumped into me glaring now, a sour look on her face. “Are you some sort of pervert?”

“No, he’s Randy Lionheart, an internet famous writer in some circles, limited circles,” Clovis told her.

<Ha! Will you look at that? Seems like you pissed her off, not to mention the spellbook’s dimwitted comment.>

“Lily?” I asked, yet again surprised to hear her speak this way. My single-word question only caused confusion for the mandra elf. Luckily, she never attacked, the woman storming off instead. “Not what I was expecting… Lily, updates, please. What should we do now?”

<Um, haven’t you figured this out already? You’re supposed to ascend to the next floor. Right now, you’re in the outer tower of the first floor in a village called Oasis, where the citizens live. To ascend, you need to head toward the inner tower. You know what? Sure, I’ll make it easier to understand because you’d clearly benefit from that. Each realm has floors. The First Realm has five floors. You’ve completed the first, and you have four more to go. Get moving, you have four days to climb four floors and reach the Second Realm. This is usually the realm in which most intakes die, I mean ascendants, even though you two are clearly acting like intakes.>

“What about the challenge? I’m assuming there’s a challenge here.”

<There’s always a challenge, Randy.>

“What’s she saying?”

“Clovis, ask your own companion,” I told him, not able to hide the hint of agitation in my voice.

“I’ll just wait for you to talk to yours.” He started to turn away, something sad about the way he hung forward just a bit.

He’s just trying to get your sympathy, I thought, returning my focus to Lily. “What’s the challenge? Is there a theme or something?”

<This floor will be about endurance. Once you complete the challenge—if you don’t fuck it up and die—then you will be rewarded with loot, a floor prize.>

“Endurance…” I turned to Clovis. “What do you think?”

“About what? This village?”

“It’s called Oasis.”

Clovis nodded. “It’s sort of like the Bright Tree Village but more evolved and the elves here seem friendly enough. Have you ever wondered if elves actually lived on Earth?”

“No, I have not. And I mean about…” I realized yet again that Clovis hadn’t heard anything Lily said. Maybe there’s a way to change that…

“Lily, since we’re in a guild, is there any way you can tell Clovis things as well?”

<Ah, the spellbook you’ve mistakenly partnered yourself with. That one is a wee bit off his rocker, isn’t he?>

“No comment. Can you sync up with him?”

<I can.>

“Give me a second…” I offered Clovis a big smile. “Look, buddy, can I call you ‘buddy?’”

“I guess.”

“Listen, buddy, Clovers, we need to get on the same page—yes, pun intended—and I have a way to do just that. I know you don’t trust the voice in your head, but do you trust the voice in my head? Do you trust Lily?”

“I can’t say. I haven’t met her yet.”

“We’re a guild now. Would you like to meet her?”

Clovis hesitated, the turquoise energy dimming around him.

“She’s nice and British and now she has an attitude. She sort of went from a Posh Spice to a Scary Spice, if that makes any sense to you. It doesn’t to me, but hey, I already said it and here we are.”

“What if I don’t like her?”

“You’ll like her, trust me. She’s been helpful to me, and now, she can talk to both of us. In fact, maybe when she’s explaining things, I’ll have her tell both of us. Otherwise, she won’t bother you. How about that? What do you say?”

“So I’m going to let the voice in your head now come into my head?”

“Something like that. Come on,” I said, offering him the biggest grin I could, “this’ll make things easier.”

“I guess. I guess we can try.”

“You’re up, Lily, go light on the kid and update him on everything you’ve just told me.”

<Congratulations, Clovis, I’m now the voice in your head. Be afraid, be very afraid. I’m kidding.>

Clovis started flapping his pages, as if he’d just had an information overload.

I reached out for him. “You’re fine, you’re fine. She will only talk to you when she’s giving both of us instructions. We’re on the same team here, Clovis,” I reminded him, feeling bad yet again for the ribbon marker fiasco. “This will help. Do you trust me?”

“I do.”

“Do you trust Lily?”

“She seems sort of off.”

<Off? I’m not the one floating around like a shabby book who can barely keep his bloody pages intact.>

“That’s fair,” said Clovis.

<Randy, I’ll make this easy for you, for both of you. Your four days have already begun and an endurance challenge awaits. Perhaps now would be a good time to get your bearings, do what little you are able to do here in this quaint, but ultimately useless outer village of Oasis, and get on with it. That would be my advice.>

I offered Clovis a nod, as if I’d just given him the little pep talk rather than our companion AI. “What do you think?”

He snapped shut and straightened up. “I’m ready to listen to the voice in your head. She seems nice enough. Also, she’s actually British, isn’t she? I didn’t believe you.”

<I don’t even know what British is. But that doesn’t matter. There’s one more thing you’re going to need. All the ascendants get one, well, aside from you, Clovis, because you’re a book.>

“Because I’m a book?”

<Exactly. Randy, I’m going to give you a Gillsuit Token. I would advise equipping it immediately.>

An underclothing made of a black material now floated before me, something that looked like a camel pack affixed to one side of it.

Gillsuit Token (common)

A Gillsuit fits under your armor and allows you to easily navigate extreme climates.

“So it’s sort of like a stillsuit?” I asked.

“From Dune?”

“Yes, Clovis.”

“The movie or the book?”

“Both?” I examined the village of Oasis yet again, which was covered by foliage, the climate itself slightly warm but not too bad, dry like an Oregon summer. Could there really be a desert beyond? It didn’t seem possible, but I equipped the gillsuit anyway, which threaded beneath my clothing. The tube of a hands-free hydration system was now fixed to my shoulder. There was a small reservoir on my back, as I’d seen earlier, which by the weight of it told me it already held water. “So it zaps any moisture I lose, and also adds it to the water already in the suit, thus letting me drink whenever I want and keeping me cool. Something like that?”

<You’ve worn one before in your world?>

“This is definitely someone else’s IP, but if it works, it works. Now, did you say Endless Desert, and why don’t I like the sound of that?”

“I’ve never seen a desert outside of a video game,” said Clovis. “I hope there’s a sandstorm.”

“No, no, you don’t. No, we don’t.”

<Yes, the Endless Desert lies beyond the edge of town. To ascend to the next floor, you will need to collect three rings hidden across the Endless Desert. Once you reach the outskirts of Oasis, a map will automatically appear and it will flash when you are close to one of the rings. There is a pole at the center of the desert which you are able to fast travel to. You will place each of the three rings on this pole. Once you have done so, you will ascend. Easy peasy, at least for talented ascendants.>

“Three rings, a pole…” I took a sip of water and noticed that it was surprisingly refreshing. “And everyone else is tasked with the same thing?”

<Yes, but you aren’t in competition with them. Each has their own set of rings to find. The same goes for solo ascendants, and those who have formed a guild.>

“And you can fast travel us to the center of the desert?” I asked.

<How else do you think you’d get there quickly? It’s miles away from here. I mean, you could walk there, or hitch a ride on, I don’t know, a camel, or I could just teleport you.>

I had to admit, I sort of liked snappy Lily versus boring mechanical one.

“And is there food there, a merchant?”

“What about gluten-free options?”

“You can’t even eat…” I reminded the spellbook yet again as I took another look around at the outer village of Oasis. The mandra elves seemed to have really done well with the place.

<There is a merchant, a hostel, and food there at the center. So to answer your question, yes. There is food.>

“In that case…” I glanced at Clovis, who had started to float in a different direction. I wanted to shake my head, but didn’t. “Lily, transport us to the center of the Endless Desert. Clovis, hold onto your ass, and try not to lose any more pages.”

Chapter Eighteen: Fighting Meerkats in the Endless Desert

It was a sight to behold, as were most things I had a feeling we would encounter in our ascendancy. As soon as I gave the command, Clovis and I fast traveled to a long stone platform in the middle of a vast desert, tents surrounding it, restaurants as well and a bazaar of sorts. There were countless ascendants around, and from what I could tell, none were from the same pod we’d come in. Occasionally, an ascendant would flash into existence, deposit a ring on a collection of beautifully carved rods, and then disappear.

“Let’s go shopping,” I told Clovis, who seemed impressed by the sight as well. He was hunched forward a bit, as if he were taking it all in, a page starting to slip out of him. I corrected this by stuffing the page back in, which snapped the spellbook back to attention.

“Sorry, this is my first time coming to the Middle East.”

Not even going to comment on that, I thought as I turned toward the grand bazaar that surrounded the raised area and its carved rods. I had a metric shitton of Harmon Tokens that could be exchanged for LyraCoins, which were matched to lyra itself. This was the moment I had been waiting for.

At least I hoped this was the case.

I approached the first seller, who looked suspiciously like the bakeneko who ran a shop at the Ogreview Cafe and Grille. The man was stout, one of his cat ears clipped, his whiskers drooping to some degree until he spotted Clovis and me.

“Ascendants!” he said, his arms spread wide. “Welcome!”

“It’s a cat-human,” said Clovis. “Pet it for me, Randy.”

“What? No. That’s… um, I’m sorry about him, he’s a bit…”

“It’s quite alright! My name is Doyle Kyo and this is my shop,” he said, motioning us under a tent painted with red stripes.

I squinted at him. “Did you say Kyo?”

“Why… yes, that is my last name. Why?”

“You don’t happen to be related to Dixon, do you?”

“Dixon is my brother! He’s quite the ornery fellow, but is all I have when it comes to siblings.”

“So… you operate in the tower, and he operates outside?”

“We operate everywhere and switch out from time to time,” he told me, grinning. “That not a good enough answer for you, ascendant? Show me on the doll where he hurt you.” Doyle produced a stuffed goblin, one that was thin and innocent-looking, clad in ill-fitting armor. He laughed and tossed it behind him. “I’m kidding.”

Clovis perked up. “Wait, how much was that doll?”

“Normally, a knockoff goblin doll goes for fifty lyra, but for you, I suppose I could let it go for forty. Just don’t let Willmarth Industries know—they’re trying to clamp down the distribution of these fake dolls.”

“We’ll take it!”

“No, we won’t,” I said as I stepped in front of Clovis.

“But it could be magical…”

“Clovis, let me do the bargaining,” I told the spellbook under my breath. “Actually, before we get started, you don’t happen to take LyraCoin, do you?”

Doyle’s smile thinned. “I wish I did, but LyraCoin isn’t used in the First Realm, sadly. I can take it in other realms, but not here. Cold hard cash is just about the only way to go, unfortunately.”

“Can we write a check?”

“A what now?” he asked Clovis.

“Nevermind him. Okay, in that case…” I tried not to tilt my chin up and sigh miserably. I hated being poor. “We have a budget of one hundred lyra.”

“Yes, a good budget indeed. I’m afraid you won’t be able to get any armor with that, or weapons.” Doyle motioned to a collection of shabby weapons that were sticking out of a barrel. “But I have just the thing you need when crossing a vast desert. Snack packs!”

“Snack packs?” Clovis asked. “Do you have gluten-free options?”

“Sure! A snack pack is a complete meal that will leave you feeling satisfied and energized.” Doyle produced one of the packs, which he laid out on the counter before him. There were nuts, energy bars, jerky, and dried fruit inside. I could tell that he’d done this before. “I’ll give you six for fifty lyra, and because you’ve been such a great customer, I’ll throw in a voucher for a private room at the hostel. Sure, you could go have a fancy kebab or a refreshingly cold desert noodle dish, but then you wouldn’t have snacks along the way, and a place to rest your sweet little ascendant heads when you return. What do you say?”

“Will you throw in the goblin doll?” Clovis asked.

“Absolutely not!”

****

We ended up getting the goblin doll, which had little to no value, and took up space in Clovis’ inventory list. Clovis was my version of Sancho Panza, that much was clear, and until we needed the spot in his list, I’d let him keep it. Besides, I had this feeling that one day we’d get a token that expanded one of our lists indefinitely. At that point, he could stash away any tchotchke that he wanted. If I was ever able to get rid of these Harmon Tokens, he could buy the whole goblin doll factory for all I cared.

As I finished eating one of the snack packs, an idea came to me, something I’d been meaning to try out for a while now. Clovis and I were about a mile away from the center of the endless desert, and I could see the minimap whenever I focused on the left-hand corner of my viewing pane. It was utterly expansive, a Laurence of Arabia vibe.

“Clovis, that sword you have.”

He turned to me, the floating book framed by badlands, dunes rising in the distance before a series of tors and a butte shaped like an upside-down umbrella. We were on somewhat of a knoll, or maybe a mesa, wind whipping sand off its crests. Definitely a mesa, I thought as I took another look around.

“Which sword?”

“The sword we got from the kobold.”

He snapped shut. “That’s right, I do have a sword. Do you want it? I don’t need it.”

“That’s the thing, I think that you’re able to use it.”

“How exactly?”

“Lily,” I asked aloud, knowing now that she’d reply to both of us, “Clovis hasn’t chosen a primary weapon yet, has he?”

<No, he has not. He probably never will.>

Thanks for the vote of confidence, I thought.

Clovis started to turn away again; I felt something in that moment, this sense that back in our world, people often responded to him in a similar way. I was determined to change that. I might be a recently divorced genre writer who thought he was going to strike it rich but would more likely strike it broke, but I was human, and even though Clovis was a spellbook, he was human as well, and humans could do remarkable things if people simply believed in them.

At least we kept telling ourselves that.

“Since he hasn’t assigned a weapon, I think we should do that now,” I said, exuberating as much confidence as I could muster in a desert that looked like it would fit perfectly between Jordan and the United Arab Emirates. There was a high desert in Oregon, but it was nothing like I was seeing now, an expanse that made me feel incredibly small, and a bit hopeless if we’re being honest.

How the hell are we supposed to find these rings?

<To assign a weapon, he’ll need to first equip it. You did this by selecting the axe and holding it.>

“Axl Rose, right.”

<But Clovis simply sent the sword to his inventory list. Even though he didn’t actually know how to do this but did so instinctually. That part is a bit of a mystery to me, if we’re being honest.>

“So… I just equip it like I would anything else?” Clovis asked. Something about his demeanor changed, as if he were feeding off the little belief I had in him.

“That’s right. You equip the sword, and it becomes your primary weapon. Regarding your class, we’ll get to that later, right, Lily?”

<If he ever reaches Level 5, yes.>

“So we’re halfway there.”

I almost, almost jumped into the Bon Jovi song but spared both Clovis and Lily. Besides, I needed to conserve energy, the Endless Desert relentless in its heat. This had me worrying about sunburn, but my natural healing ability would probably take care of that.

“Um… another question: how would I even hold it?”

“Wait, didn’t you say you played NieR: Automata?” I asked Clovis.

“NieR: Replicant Version—”

“—I remember watching a playthrough of that, you know, one that those YouTube gamers do. Didn’t the book in the game have a giant hand attack or something? I vaguely remember seeing that.”

“Grimoire Weiss?”

“Sure?”

“Yes, he could summon an arm and a hand.”

“Then do that. You’re clearly magical, I mean, look at all that energy around you. Okay, you can’t see yourself, but if we had a mirror, you’d see it.”

“There’s enough sand in this desert for us to make a lot of mirrors,” Clovis said.

“Yes, but that’s not the point. Just summon a hand. Try it.”

I stepped over to him and extended my hand to the spellbook. “Shake my hand, Clovis, and once you do, take that goddamn sword out of your inventory list. Let’s get out there and turn this desert upside down.”

“Summon… a hand?”

“Clovis, we are already behind the other ascendants. Some of those assholes back on the boat already multiclassed. The next time we encounter a bad one, like Lothan, we’ll need to be able to defend ourselves. You have magic power, but you don’t have control over it; that’s fine, but you get some sort of understanding of your base weapon. Tell him, Lily. I mean, I had no earthly idea how to wield an axe, yet the two of you have seen me now whooping some serious ass.”

<Is that what you call that?>

“I feel like I’ve mostly seen you get your ass kicked.”

“What? Come on, Clovers, Lil-Lil, I’ve been Mad Ladding my way through Genera since my arrival. This tower,” I pointed up at the sky, because we could no longer see the tower, “is our chance for redemption. To do something great. To show all the doubters, all the haters and bottom dwellers that have tried to bring us down that we’re, in fact, destined for greatness. I don’t know how many times you’ve been knocked down, but I’m sick of it. I’m ready to fight back and win, climb these floors, conquer these realms, and have a sweet time doing it.”

“Inspirational! This is like that scene toward the end of the movie where the hero inspires others,” Clovis said.

“Technically, it comes right after the ‘all-is-lost’ section, if we’re following the Save the Cat model of plotting, but that doesn’t matter right now. And this isn’t anywhere near the end of our story unless we die out here and become part of some creepy asshole’s synthetic reality. Dammit, Clovis, you’re making me lose the point I’m trying to make here: shake my hand.” I grunted and thrust my hand into the air again. “You can do it. I… I believe in you. Shake my hand.”

For a moment, Clovis tilted forward, as if he were experiencing a bout of self-doubt. But then he started to tremble. As he did so, the energy swirling around him began to oscillate, forming into a thin, but manageable gimp hand of energy. It was pathetic, but it would do the trick.

“See?” I said as I latched onto the hand, immediately noticing the power. “Now equip that sword, and let’s start killing things.”

****

Clovis swooped forward, his magical turquoise hand gripping a blunt sword. He swatted at one of the oversized meerkats that had ambushed us, missed, but managed to gain the upperhand. Meerkats are generally cute, yet this particular group were armed to the teeth with daggers and clubs, nine in total, all about the size of a roided-up kindergartner and ready to violate our corpses.

“Did you see that, Randy? Alien hand syndrome!” Clovis swept forward again with his blade. He was a goddamn loose cannon with his new weapon, but it worked to some degree, the bastardly meerkats not knowing what to make of the sword-wielding spellbook.

Seeing Clovis brazenly attack meerkats triggered something in me.

It was time to summon my newly received Rage ability, which amplified my strength and stamina for ten seconds per mana point used. I had five mana points—this would give me just under a minute of Four Loko Randy, of pure, unadulterated beast mode. It was time to unleash the barbarian within.

Clovis killed his first meerkat as a wave of energy rolled down my shoulders. I had been on the cusp of asking Lily how to actually rage out, but didn’t need to. It was instinctual, and I can feel it now. Holy shit if my muscles didn’t bulge beneath my gnome gear, my next breath energizing me like the one time I tried cocaine to imitate Stephen King and see if it didn’t help my writing (it didn’t).

I surged forward, kicking up sand like a Mongolian Death Worm, and clocked my first meerkat. His head went one direction, his body the other, which certainly got the attention of the other meerkats.

Whack!

Clovis domed a meerkat so hard with his sword that he triggered his gamma power upon recovery, which cut a straight line through the sand, crystalizing it, and searing two more meerkats.

“Fuck yeah, Clovis!”

The burst of energy also happened to graze the side of my leg, but rather than scream like a kid who’s had his candy stolen on Halloween, I stomached the pain and cannonballed forward again, two swift slices, a spin, two more deaths and one meerkat stumbling backward in fear as he dropped his club.

“I’ve got him!” Clovis tried to stab the meerkat and ended up jabbing his sword into the sand instead, the spellbook losing his weapon. Not to worry, Four Loko Randy was on the scene in a heartbeat, stomping out the meerkat, channeling my inner Ivan Drago.

“Whoo!” I shouted as the final—I think?—meerkat began to run. I reached him in no time, and brought Axl Rose down across his back.

Fatality!

The Rage boiled away as if a veil had been lifted. My knees buckled to some degree, the sensation leaving my body and leaving me breathless for a second.

That was crazy...

“I got a level!” Clovis said as he floated back over to me.

I quickly accessed his stats, yet again noticing that he had a lot of stamina, which was strange considering he wanted to rest all the time.

Race: Avariel Spellbook

Name: Clovis Smith

Level: 3

Tier: Fresh Meat

HP: 13/13

MP: 17/17

Intelligence: 8

Perception: 5

Stamina: 15

Strength: 3

Dexterity: 7

Defense: 7

Health Regen: 20% per hour

MP Regen: 30% per hour

Skills Points: 2

“Lily, how much MP does Clovis’ gamma ray cost?” I asked, catching my breath, the power that was just boiling within me now filtering away.

<It costs 8 MP.>

“But you have no control over it…”

“It just sort of happens.” Clovis hovered over to me, his pages ruffling.

I took a sip from my water nozzle, which was surprisingly refreshing. Even though it seemed like evening was approaching, it was still hotter than Satan’s toenail, the blazing sun making me wish I had a pair of sunglasses. I pictured myself in wraparound Oakleys looking like a Marine on his way to the Shock and Awe campaign and quickly wiped that image away. No stolen valor here, just a writer and a spellbook killing oversized meerkats. Sometimes I really let my imagination get the best of me.

“What abilities does Clovis have currently, and how much MP do they cost to use?” I asked Lily, and yes, reader, I should have asked this question back when we got the Guild Token, but I sort of got distracted. Forgive me.

<As you know by now, or at least I hope you’ve been paying attention, Clovis is an Avarial spellbook who naturally specializes in existential magic. Once he reaches Level 5, he can officially become a Wizard.>

“I get to be a wizard? That’s… that’s awesome!”

“He doesn’t have a choice?” I asked Lily, recalling I could be a Fighter or a Barbarian.

<Not yet, he doesn’t. Because of his natural magic ability, chosen at random when he selected ‘book’ as a species, he has to class as a Wizard. Once he reaches Level Fifteen, he can multiclass as a Warlock, a Paladin, or a Sorcerer.>

“Damn, Clovis, once you get your shit together, you’re going to be a straight-up powerhouse.”

“You think?”

“Dude, are you listening to Lily? You’re going to be hoss, man.”

“A German house?”

“Sure, a German house.”

Clovis’ sword returned to his inventory list. His puny energy arm and hand slowly shrunk back into his form. “As long as I get to be a wizard, I’m fine with that.”

“If you reach Level 5, you’ll be a Wizard. We just need to find more meerkats to kill.” I started walking again, the two of us shifting into a canyon as I returned to my conversation with Lily. “So, his powers. You never told us his powers or what they cost.”

<Currently, Clovis can cast Gamma Ray, which costs 8 MP. He can also cast Teleportation, which costs 5 MP.>

I stopped walking. “Clovis can teleport?”

<Yes, but not well. You may recall him appearing next to you all of a sudden. That’s his teleportation ability. Once he classes as a Wizard, he’ll be able to improve his powers. He’ll also be granted Magic Missile and a power called Shield.>

I nodded, once again impressed. “Dang, Clovers, you’re getting Magic Missile.”

“That’s that D&D spell, right?”

“Uh-huh,” I told him as I started up a steep incline.

“Is it trademarked?”

“God, I hope not.”

I glanced at my minimap. Nothing. It was going to be a bitch finding these rings.

Clovis spoke up again: “Well, this is all good news if you ask me. If we can get a few more levels, we’ll be able to kick that dark elf bully’s ass.”

“You mean Lothan?”

“Yeah, the one talking crud to you on the boat. I heard him, and then there was the time when he almost stabbed you during the deathmatch.”

“Wait, you heard him on the boat? That’s when you farted on me.”

Clovis started to giggle. “I was scared, I promise I’m not laughing at you, just, I was scared. I get gassy when I’m scared.”

“I’m not going to even start to ponder how a book can even fart…” I looked back at the meerkat bodies. “Let’s get to looting.”

“Tooting?”

I started to laugh. “Nice one, Clovers.”

The looting session turned out to be a good one, at least as far as I could tell. We were able to procure five Meerkat Tail Tokens, which I assumed were good for crafting of some sort. We continued looting until the cows came home. In the end we picked up a number of small jewelry pieces as well—silver rings, gold necklace, and ruby earrings—which we could hopefully offload back at the center of the Endless Desert. The best item by far was a rare pinky ring that increased my Strength by a single point.

Not only would it be my first accessory, it would make me look like a pimp. A true win-win.

“My first accoutrement, my dear book.”

Clovis approached. “I never thought you’d be the kind of writer who wore a pinky ring. That’s more for harem authors.”

“Those guys get a bad rap sometimes…”

A shadow loomed over the two of us. I looked up to the top of the incline to see a giant spherical object blotting out the sun, the sphere easily twelve feet in diameter. Standing atop the sphere was a tanked-up insect.

“Is… is that a giant dung beetle?” Clovis asked as he too peered in the direction of our new encounter.

I started to backpedal. Then it hit me again. This was my world, my chance to actually prove something of myself. If we were going to have to fight a dung beetle, then so be it, but I wasn’t about to be Indiana Jones running down an incline while a ball of shit tried to pancake us.

We were going to have to kick the dung beetle’s ass.

Chapter Nineteen: Dung Beetles and Scorpions - Time For Some Pest Control!

I shouldered into the giant ball of poo, which prevented it from rolling down the incline. Summoning what little Rage I had caused my calf muscles to bulge, power tracing through me. “Get the beetle!” I shouted at Clovis. My next step was instinctual: I began pushing the ball of shit in the opposite direction, feeling like Atlas in that moment sans the Ayn Rand interpretation. “Get that fucking beetle, Clovis!”

“On it!”

This surprised me.

Clovis had been so hard to deal with up until recently that barking an order out to him and actually having him do it came as a shock. Sure enough, the spellbook whizzed over my head, propelled by magic turquoise energy. He swatted his blunt sword at the oversized dung beetle, who let out a high-pitched clicking noise.

I kept pushing the ball of shit, desperate to keep my footing as the beetle and Clovis squared off.

I heard the klank! of what sounded like a sword meeting a shield and assumed that the beetle was using something to block Clovis’ sword attacks. I didn’t have much Rage left, which turned out to be a moot point once we reached the top of the incline and I was able to finally push the ball of dung away.

Axl Rose in hand, I bolted toward the dung beetle, who had landed on his back and was still defending himself from Clovis’ barrage of attacks. Damn if the little fucker wasn’t a tank. As soon as the dung beetle was on all fours, it became impossible to get a hit in, no matter how hard Clovis and I swung our weapons. Not only that, the little samurai-helmet horns on its head were extremely sharp, something that I painfully discovered once the oversized dung beetle collided with me.

“Shit!”

My gnome armor took most of the attack, but it still managed to swipe its horns against my arms, bringing a gnarly gash and a flash of pain. I spilled to the side, which had a way of jarring me awake. I recalled the new skill I had learned, the one that would allow me to absorb an attack. After three goes, I could release a sphere of energy which would allow me to get the shitty scarab on its back.

Dios mío was there a lot of blood! But there was also a fight to be had, and some levels to gain. So I went for it, hoping to utilize my Absorb skill. No longer fueled by Rage, but with a clear goal in mind, I catapulted myself toward the beetle, who yet again tried to ram me with his horns.

Axl Rose took the brunt of the next attack, and I noticed a soft rumbling in my hands as it did so. It felt just like using a game controller, an attack absorbed, the avatar slowly gaining steam as I took yet another attack.

Holy shit if I didn’t feel like that Vince McMahon meme in which he’s charging up, only to release the red-eyed WWE-CEO madness in the final frame. I was primed; we were going to do this. The dung beetle tried again and I absorbed a final strike.

“You’re mine now!” I shouted, a sphere of energy taking shape around me. The energy swelled and was released, a ripple tearing up the soil around me, the concussive force that followed felt in my chest, down to my heels as I stood my ground.

The dung beetle was now on its back.

“We don’t give McShits!” Clovis pounced, the spellbook stabbing the dung beetle several times. I jumped into the action as well, hacking away at the dying insect. The dung beetle stopped moving, and as soon as it did, the gameshow announcer’s voice appeared in my head.

Points!

You have gained a level!

+1 Stamina!

+1 Dexterity!

+2 Skill Points!

+5% Health Regen!

Race: Human

Class: Barbarian

Name: Randy Lionheart

Level: 6

Tier: Fresh Meat

HP: 23/23

MP: 6/6

Intelligence: 10

Perception: 8

Stamina: 16

Strength: 18

Dexterity: 15

Defense: 11

Health Regen: 15% per hour

MP Regen: 20% per hour

Skill Points: 5

Armor: Basic Gnome Wear

Weapons: Axl Rose

Accessories: Pinky Ring

Not only had my HP and MP been reset, but I’d also gained a Mana Point as well, and I now had enough Skill Points to get another skill.

“Hell yeah, Clovis, hell yeah,” I said as a new sound came to me, something akin to the clicking we’d heard earlier but much more sinister, and with an echo to it. My eyes naturally traced to a sandy ridge above us, where I found a line of black scorpions with red accents along their bodies, the group clicking their pincers, each about the size of a dorm refrigerator.

I flourished Axl Rose, my eyes never leaving the scorpions. “Looks like we’ve got company, Clovers. Are you ready to squash some more bugs?”

****

Despite all my rage I am still just a writer in a cage.

Not quite a theme song for the brawl that was to follow, but it definitely could have been set to rock music, pincers and poisonous stingers giving Clovis and me a run for our money, the situation growing especially dire once one of the stingers finally struck me.

Numb.

Numb like when my ex-wife Chelsea said she wanted a divorce; numb like that one time I had jetlag and fell asleep on my arm and thought I was going to have to call an ambulance. No feeling at all. I was jelly, and faceplanting on a stone only made matters worse, my mouth filling with blood, my jaw aching, nose gushing.

I rolled to the side as best I could, only for the numbness to spread. Another scorpion got me with its stinger, this one striking my clavicle. My eyes rolled back into my head, and I probably would have died right then and there had it not been for Clovis, who was able to produce an epic gamma ray that cut a line through the rock, frying scorpion bodies in the process.

All I could do was watch it unfold, drool and blood draining from my mouth, Clovis swinging his sword like a drunken kung fu master. Several of the scorpions were trying to sting him out of the air, but he always managed to avoid their attacks, the spellbook in his element in a way that I’d never seen him before.

Was this something that would be short-lived? Would Clovis revert back to how he had been earlier?

I wanted to help; I wanted to do my fair share of bug squashing. But everything from the waist down and the clavicle up was out of commission, my eyes droopy to the point that I was squinting, more snot, blood, and spit running down my chin.

Not only that, a scorpion not engaging Clovis had turned to me. It approached like a cocky predator that had already disabled its prey, leisurely, even, the scorpion snapping its pincers and preparing to sever some limbs.

My Rage hadn’t really recharged yet, and if I summoned it now, the likelihood of me going into some sort of epileptic shock was high. No, dear reader, I was fucked. I know I’ve said that before and I’ll likely say it again, but really, the scorpion had just about reached me, and while Clovis was slicing and dicing like a coked-up Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, I was utterly useless.

Then a pair of short legs clad in leather armor dropped in front of me.

A rogue halfling in dark clothing went to work with a set of daggers, beating the pincers back as cacti grew from the ground, thickening immediately and pressing through the body of the scorpion. The halfling stood back, his daggers returning to his sheaths as he placed his hands together and watched the carnage unfold.

All the scorpions left were immediately impaled, and once they were dead, the halfling approached the scorpion closest to me and swiped his fingers into some of its viscera. He crouched before me, one hand going around my chin. I started to struggle.

“I’m trying to help you, asshole,” he said, his voice a bit husky for a halfling. He proceeded to jam his fingers into my mouth. “It’s the antivenom. Trust me, I already learned this the hard way. Kandi…” The bearded halfling looked over his shoulder at a woman wearing earthy druid clothing, her skin porcelain pale, eyes red, black hair long and combed back behind her ears.

She grinned, and as she did, her canines began to grow. That’s who she is, I thought, vaguely recognizing her from the pod we’d taken to the tower, a vampire. I could barely remember seeing the halfling, but there were fifty people on that boat of varying size, and he definitely could have been there. Definitely.

“You’re not sucking him,” the halfling said, “you’ve already fed!”

The dryad vampiress started to pout. “But I’m still hungry…”

“And I’ve still got a bunch of scorpion bodies to loot.”  The halfling removed his hand from my mouth, the feeling coming back to me gradually, including my sense of taste. “We call all the loot,” he told me in a firm voice. “The name is Bobby, by the way. Bobby ‘Bad Fingers’ Bortress. You can call me Bad Fingers, or Bobby, or both.”

His female counterpart scoffed at this. “That’s the worst nickname.”

“At least I don’t have a stripper name.”

“Kandi was my stripper name, and I decided to use it here in Genera. What the fuck is wrong with that?”

“You’re a stripper?” Clovis asked, the spellbook now examining the sexy dryad vampire. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a stripper in real life. A pleasure to meet you!”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Have you… ever been to a stripclub?”

“I went to a burlesque show one time.”

Kandi lifted a hand to Clovis and ran it along his outer binding, as if it were his cheek. “You don’t know what you’re missing, honey.”

Clovis began to vibrate, which had Bobby Bad Fingers rolling on the ground laughing.

“You’re going to give that spellbook an erection if you aren’t careful!”

“Ugh…” I was finally able to get to my feet, my hand naturally going to my weapon. I drew it from its scabbard, not certain of when I had sent it there. Perhaps it had been instinctual. “If… if you all are looking to fight…”

Bobby the halfling kept laughing. He tried to get to his feet, looked from me to Clovis, and fell over laughing again. I spat—I could still taste the halfling’s dirty fingers.

“We’re not going to fight you,” said Kandi with a huff, the vampiress turning her focus to me. “We’re actually heading to the hostel to rest. Might as well do so for free, right?”

“It’s free to rest at the hostel?” Clovis asked.

“Yes, you didn’t know that?”

I cursed the bakeneko salesman under my breath. He made it seem like room and board was part of the deal he’d made with us…

Bobby grunted. “Plus, we have a ring that we need to deposit.”

“You found one?” I asked, still gripping my axe. Something about these two told me I should keep my guard up, even though I was in a weakened state at the moment.

“Our second ring, actually.” Bobby stretched his hands over his head and yawned. “Easy for a rogue and a stripper vampire, am I right?”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“You’re really a stripper vampire?” Clovis asked her. Kandi turned back to him and snapped her teeth, causing Clovis to float a few feet back, a rim of turquoise energy radiating around him. I think he had the hots for her, and I couldn’t blame him, Kandi was in a class of her own. While she wore a druid cloak, she had an armored corset beneath, her bosoms on full display, her waist thin, thighs thicc, and a pair of knee-high leather boots over a pair of tights to complete the look.

I got the feeling that she had multiclassed as well. How everyone had progressed so quickly was beyond me, but it likely had to do with a combination of my own ineptitude, and dealing with Clovis.

“Come back to the hostel with us and I’ll give you some pointers.” Bobby Bad Fingers wiped his hands on his legs. “But first, we get to loot the scorpions. That said, I’m feeling generous, so I’ll give you some of the antivenom. You may need it. These are just the baby scorpions. The big ones?” He shook his head, suddenly spooked. “Those ones even give Kandi and me a tough time. We’ll tell you all about it back at the center desert hostel. What do you say? Care to join us?”

Chapter Twenty: Pyramid and Rune

Kandi the dryad vampiress and Bobby the rogue halfling turned out to be pretty good company. Their resources were much greater than ours, and they were generous with the food they’d purchased, which included grilled steak-on-a-stick, bread rolls, stew, and even dessert, which consisted of a rice pudding with big sugar crystals on top.

Good food, new friends, a fucked-up fantasy world—what more could an author want?

That was another thing, unlike our encounter with Emiko and Lothan, we were actually around each other long enough to speak about our lives, and how we’d come to Genera. It was refreshing.

“Me? I was in Central Park just about to finger a rich lady from the Upper East Side.”

“Ugh. Why do you have to always say it like that?” Kandi asked Bobby.

The dryad vampiress was seated on her bed with her legs neatly crossed beneath her, a tray of food in her lap. Bobby was on the bunk above her, his short legs dangling down, ugly feet on display, which didn’t seem to bother Kandi. Clovis and Yours Truly were across from them in the shared space. While we were going to use bunk beds tonight, the setting couldn’t have been any sweeter, with billowing white drapes cordoning off our area, seating on the ground a la something that would feel appropriate in those desert scenes from John Wick.

This was luxury glamping.

“Pickpocketing was what I was doing there in Central Park. Happy? I call it fingering.” Bobby Bad Fingers flitted his fingers through the air. “See that?”

Clovis giggled. “That reminded me of a fidget spinner.”

The rogue halfling gave him a funny look and continued: “Anyway, I was just about to stick my fingers into an Hermes bag—I know, I should have tried to loot the bag itself, but it was daylight, and these rich broads, they always got cash for some reason—and boom, or maybe, wallah. I was here in Genera. That little broad in my head asked me what I wanted to be. I said hobbit. She said that was someone else’s IP. I said I don’t give a damn, lady, I’m a thief. She turned me into a halfling, I grabbed a dagger, and well, here we are.”

“And then you met me. Also, what did I say about using the word ‘broad?’ This isn’t a noir world; it’s a fantasy world.”

“So I should, what, use a British accent or something? You fancy my British accent, love?”

Kandi rolled her eyes at his poor attempt. “So I guess that leaves me. We’ve established you’re a writer, and that you’re a book—I still don’t understand the mechanics of that—and now the spotlight is on me. I was a stripper, as you already know, proud of it too. The best one in Atlanta, bitches, even won an award.”

“My dad is from Atlanta. Maybe we’re related.”

Kandi winked at Clovis. “Is your dad Puerto Rican?”

“He’s black, and no.”

Dammit, Clovis, I thought. The spellbook was on the bunk above me, so I couldn’t actually see him, but if I could, I would have given him a look that translated to ‘how about we try to make this a little less awkward?’

“Moving on…” Kandi set her tray aside. “I always liked to dress up as a vampire for Halloween. I knew this girl I stripped with who was into some fantasy shit, and she told me about dryads. So when the voice asked what species I wanted to be, shit, I started to say vampire, but then changed my mind to dryad.” She smiled, her teeth growing enlarging to the point that they pressed over her lips. “And here we are.”

“Do you suck blood?”

“You got nothing to worry about, honey,” she told Clovis.

“To answer your question, yes, she does suck blood.” Bobby yawned as if this was no big deal. “Look at me, getting tired over here. Been a day though, I’ll tell you that. First that goddamn deathmatch—that was unexpected—then we’re sent to a desert and told to find some cock rings.”

“Those rings are for penises?”

“What? No,” Bobby told Clovis. “It was a joke.”

“About finding those rings,” I said, shifting into intelligence-gathering mode. “Any pointers?”

“Any pointers? Heh. For one, I’d say you two had better get to it. You don’t have none yet, do you?”

“We were trying to get levels,” Clovis said, “and find rings. Multitaskers.”

“Yeah? Keeping telling yourselves that. The way I see it is simple: one or the other. The levels will come as you try to find the rings because that desert…” Bobby’s eyes bulged. “It can be taxing, let me tell you, kid. Maybe I’ve got an advantage due to my rogue nature, but I just sort of know where they are. You probably need someone like me; but I’m already in a guild.”

Kandi nodded.

“We’re a guild too, but we don’t have a guild name yet. I think we should be called Angel Farts, but Randy doesn’t agree.”

Bobby squinted at Clovis. “Why would anyone in their right minds want to go around being known as Angel Farts?”

“Never mind that…” For fuck’s sake, Clovis, I thought, scowling at the bed above me. “So no pointers aside from go out there and, um, find the rings.”

“Yeah, that’s what we’re doing. That, and use your map. It flashes when you’re close. Don’t need anything special for it to do that. As for us, we should be in Hamsterdam tomorrow.”

“That’s the next floor?” I asked, recalling that Lily had mentioned something about the place back at the Ogreview Cafe and Grill. I was pretty sure she’d said that we’d be able to have Clovis checked out at a bookseller in the city.

“Sure is. No idea what to expect, but as long as Richard Gere isn’t there, I think we’ll be fine.”

“What’s Richard Gere have to do with hamsters?” Clovis asked Bobby Bad Fingers.

The halfling started to laugh, Kandi joining in with him. “You’ve got a lot to learn, kid, a lot to learn.”

“I think those were gerbils,” said Kandi.

“Yeah? Whatever. Still funny as hell.”

****

Rest was going to come easy that night, I could feel it.

But before I caught a few Zs, I needed to assign the skill points I’d received earlier. Upon checking my skill tree, I was presented with three options. One would be to bring my Absorb ability up to level two, which would increase the radius of the subsequent power swell and its strength. This would cost all five skill points. Because I’d become a Barbarian—or a barbaric writer, as I fancied myself in my head—I also could learn an ability called Tracking, which would cost four skill points. There was a final option called Surge, which at first glance reminded me of my natural Rage ability. This one allowed me to triple my stamina for an increment of time and greatly enhance my speed. To get started on this path cost four skill points.

Absorb, Tracking, or Surge?

In the end I went with Tracking. Absorb would be helpful, and it would likely be what I put points in next, but being able to track would help in our quest to find the rings. Surge could wait.

Tracking increases both your instinct and your ability to utilize maps. Floor maps, when available, will now have shaded areas to designate locations of interest, and if you’re given a task to find or recover something, there is a chance that these items will appear on the map as you level up this skill.

Shit yeah, I thought as I relaxed onto my back, hands behind my head. My stomach was full, I felt safe, I hadn’t been drugged into sleeping, and things seemed to be going in the right direction.

Things were looking up.

Dreams were nonexistent that night, but I did wake up, as usual, feeling like I should be writing something. I wonder if there is a Laptop Token, I thought as I rolled over to find that Bobby Bad Fingers and Kandi were gone.

My inventory list appeared before me. The silver rings, gold necklace, and ruby earrings I had looted back in the desert were gone. Not only that, Bobby had lifted my Flaming Weapon Token.

“Little bastard…” As I sat up, a small piece of parchment shifted to the ground. I retrieved it to find a message from Bobby.

Sorry to finger you, but that’s the name of the game. I left your health potions, snack packs, and antivenom. Couldn’t loot the spellbook. He disappeared in the middle of the night.

“Wait, what?” I asked as I moved out of the bunk to find that Clovis was missing. “Oh shit…”

This was bad. Clovis was a wanderer; he could be anywhere in the Endless Desert. Panic rose in my chest, but then I remembered that I had a Tracking ability, and not only that…

“Lily, can you still communicate with Clovis?”

<Of course, I can. You share a Guild Token with him.>

A wave of satisfaction rolled over my shoulders. “And he’s alive?”

<He is.>

“Can you tell him to come back here?”

<I’ve already tried that. He’s determined at the moment.>

“Determined to do what? So he’s okay?”

<Clovis has already found one of the rings that you need to complete this floor. He’s now at an abandoned ruin searching for the next one. He also gained a level.>

“Did he, now?” I asked, impressed. “And I’m guessing he won’t come back here?”

<Why would he when you could simply go to him?>

“Sort of a good point. Ugh. Fine.” I took a sip from my gillsuit, wishing at that moment that it was filled with coffee. “In that case, lead me to him.”

What followed was well over an hour of mindless wandering in the desert, toward a series of buttes that looked like french fries sticking out of their box. There was no cloud coverage, the sky a color of teal that reminded me of the few nights I’d spent with my ex-wife in Santa Fe.

Short backstory time—otherwise known as the two paragraphs you may feel inclined to skip. But don’t. You know enough about my journey now for me to tell you a little more about myself. My ex and I honeymooned in Santa Fe. We stayed near the Plaza; did all the touristy things like visit old chapels, buy overpriced Southwestern rugs which were marketed as made by native Puebloans but were actually from Bangladesh; drank mad amounts of tequila and suffered the consequences due to the altitude; screwed like our lives depended on it; you know, the usual things.

I remember visiting a national park the day before we left, the day before we returned to Portland to try, and subsequently fail, to make a life together. We climbed through cave dwellings at that national park outside Santa Fe—can’t remember the name now—the two of us ascending wooden ladders, seeing how the ancient people of the region lived before they’d all moved further south. I remember looking out one of the windows they’d carved out of stone, seeing a color blue that I knew I’d never be able to capture in words, and feeling at peace with myself.

And that blue, the color of life, of Regina Spektor songs, was the only way I was able to describe the sky of the Endless Desert.

It truly was mesmerizing.

Whack!

That was more or less the sound that was made as I tripped over my own feet and cracked my knee on a stone. It stung, but at least it woke me up to the task at hand. I’d been lost there for a moment, thinking of the past, of Chelsea and the good times, and I needed to get my head in the game. We had three days to complete the first realm, which meant that we needed to finish the second floor today. Shit, we should have probably finished it yesterday…

Clovis already has one ring, I reminded myself. Just two more to go, and he’s close to the second ring…

“The next floor is Hamsterdam, right?” I asked Lily as I continued on. I saw a few shifty-eyed meerkats on a cliff about a half mile away. They were definitely watching me, but the fuckers were keeping their distance for now.

<Yes, once you complete the ring challenge, you’ll ascend to Hamsterdam.>

“Any tips?”

<You know bloody well I don’t have any tips for you. Some ascendants love Hamsterdam; others hate it with a passion and struggle to complete the floor and never return. We’ll see where you and Clovis fall on that spectrum.>

“And it’s populated by hamsters, right?” I asked as a wind picked up, sand twisting around me.

<No, it’s populated by guinea pigs. Of course it is populated by hamsters.>

“Sometimes I can’t tell if I like the new you or not,” I mumbled, noticing my map icon start to flash.

<You can always tell me to revert back to my previous incarnation.>

“Nah, I’d much rather you keep me on my toes.”

Coming to a ledge provided me a view of a canyon filled with scree, many of the rocks large and shaped like pencils that had been broken in half. It was sharp terrain, but not for a flying spellbook, like the one I saw floating behind one of the rocks, his turquoise glow illuminating the dark shadows caused by the stones.

I carefully transitioned down a slope peppered with granulated stones that all seemed to tumble after me. This got me sliding, but I was able to maintain control and was deposited on my feet, glad for my dexterity at that moment.

“Clovis!” I called his name again, but he didn’t respond.  Dammit, I thought as I began navigating the rock, and ducking under some of the larger, more jagged portions. It became dusty and maze-like, and I finally caught another glimpse of Clovis at the moment I was about to ask Lily for assistance.

The spellbook was lowered in front of a hole, examining it closely.

“Clovers, shit, dude, you can’t just run off like that.”

“I found the second ring,” he said without turning back to me.

“You… you did?”

Hearing this transitioned my focus from what I was witnessing to what I was sensing. It was akin to a magnetic force tugging at me, letting me know I was close to something big, my tracking power at work.

“Reach your hand in. Or I can…” His scrawny, energy hand began to form as he peered into a hole in the ground.

“I’ve got it.” Rather than stick my hand in and get stung by a scorpion, I used the end of my axe to clear it first. Sure enough, I heard a squishing sound, like I’d pressed the grip through a nest of eggs.

“That’s sort of gross,” Clovis said as I removed the axe from the hole, the end of which was now covered in yellow goo. Stuck to the bottom of my axe was a ring, an actual ring, as in one that went on a person’s fingers. For a moment, I felt frustrated—this couldn’t be the ring that we were supposed to find—but then a prompt appeared, letting me know that we had just one ring left.

“Great job, Clovis!”

He finally turned to me, almost as if he were surprised to hear praise. “You… mean it?”

“Of course, I do. But next time, tell me if you’re going out. I was worried that something had happened to you. Overall, this is fantastic. You… you did all the hard work and fuck, I appreciate that. I really do. Just one more ring to find. Also, I have to ask, how did you locate the first two?”

“I woke up in the middle of the night to find Bobby Bad Fingers standing over you. Once he was done robbing you, I waited for him to leave with Kandi, and decided that you’d probably be pissed at what he’d done. So I figured I’d try to help out. Then… then it just became what I needed to do. I used the map, which flashes when you get closer to the ring, and found the first one. Then I started searching about half a mile away from where we currently are. I had to deal with a few meerkats, but I found the ring.”

“Why didn’t you just wake me up? I mean, what you’ve done here is awesome, don’t get me wrong. But if someone is trying to rob me, wake me up so I can do something about it.”

“You were resting so peacefully, and I liked Bobby and Kandi. At first I thought he was just tucking you in.”

I tried not to roll my eyes at this comment. “Again, if you catch a rogue halfling tucking me in, please let me know next time.” I sent the ring to my inventory list, and a quick check of Clovis’ list told me he had one of the rings there as well. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. We’ll deal with Bobby and Kandi later. For now, we have a ring to find.”

“Not only that…”

I turned and saw a pair of storks heading in our direction, the elegant white birds at odds with the barren desert.

“Looks like elite ascendants have decided to bless us with their benevolence.” I rubbed my hands together. “It’s about time. Let’s hope it’s something good. We’ll have that ring in no time, then it’s on to Hamsterdam!”

****

I didn’t like the idea of elite ascendants. It was too ripe for some future class warfare in my mind, and the fact that some of them were actively interested in both helping and hindering us left a funny taste in my mouth. Were these Genera’s version of billionaires, able to effect great change if they want, be it good or bad? And relatedly, why would anyone send us three Sneezing Powder Tokens and a Handheld Mirror Token?

Is this some sort of joke? I thought as I looked at my own reflection in the mirror, my writerly ass forced to turn away from the sun after it reflected off the mirror and nearly burned my retinas off.

“Thank you, stork gods!” Clovis shouted, the floating book flapping open and losing a page to the wind.

“Stork gods?” I lowered the mirror, watching as the two birds moved further into the distance. “They’re elite ascendants, Clovis, they’re not gods.”

“But they are sort of god-like in the way they deliver stuff to us.”

“Nope, not getting into an ontological discussion now, not when we’re this close to the treasure.”

“You mean the ring?”

“Yes, the ring, that’s our treasure for today, Clovers. If we can loot anything along the way, that’ll be good too considering I was robbed last night.”

“Maybe Bobby Bad Fingers was planning to sell the stuff he stole from you and use it to buy you breakfast. Have you thought of that?”

Clovis caught up to me, the two of us coming to the skeleton of what looked to be some sort of dragon considering we were in a fantasy world. Normally, I would have taken some time to examine the bones, perhaps snag me a tooth or a claw or something as a souvenir (how often does one encounter a dragon skeleton?), but we had places to go and towers to climb, so we moved on, Clovis wondering aloud if sneezing powder would work on him.

“You can fart, and snore, so I’d say that it would work on you.”

He giggled at this statement. “I don’t give a McShit!”

“That’s… that’s not when you’re supposed to use that. You’re supposed to use that phrase when faced with an enemy that is saying something like, ‘you’ll never get out of here alive!’ or, I don’t know, they’ve told you their dastardly plan, and you’re wanting to make them feel stupid. I always loved writing things like that, even if they are trope-y.”

“I can’t wait to try the catchphrase out. We’re going to have plenty of enemies, aren’t we?”

“That we are,” I said, the map flashing as we climbed over a ridge to reveal a pyramid structure half buried in the sand. This was it; the final ring was inside. Not only that, a giant of a man stood out front, scratching the back of his head.

“Hey, that’s the guy from the boat…”

“Rune, his name is Rune,” I told Clovis, recalling that the man had been imprisoned in Huntsville, Texas when he was transported to Genera. I almost asked Clovis how he remembered Rune, considering he’d spent most of the boat ride sleeping, but then the big guy waved us over.

“Dang, amigo, didn’t think I’d see anyone all the way the hell out here.” Rune cracked a grin as we approached. “Look at the three of us, straight up in Egypt or some shit, BFE, right? I don’t know about y’all, but I’m just about ready to be done with this here desert. I stopped wearing my gillsuit; thing was giving me swamp ass.”

“Swamp ass is the worst,” said Clovis.

“Wait, you were on the boat too? I barely remember seeing you.”

“That’s because I was sleeping.”

Rune laughed. “Hell, not a bad idea. So…” The giant with bluish gray skin looked from Clovis to me. “Y’all a guild now or something?”

“We are, but we don’t have a name.”

“Shee-it, I need to get myself joined up to a guild, been asked once already by a halfling and a hot-ass vampire lady. Declined. Didn’t like the little guy after he told me to call him Bad Fingers. I ain’t calling nobody Bad Fingers.”

“The hot-ass vampire lady is a dryad,” Clovis chimed in.

“I can’t say I know what that is. Never was a big fantasy feller like some of my buddies. Anyway, as for me, no guild as of yet, and I’ve got one ring left.” He tilted his chin toward the half-submerged pyramid. “I think it’s in there.”

“Same with ours.”

Rune looked at me. “In that case, y’all want to team up on this one? I ain’t asking to join y’all’s guild or nothing, but an extra set of eyes may be helpful considering we’re about to explore an ancient tomb.”

“I don’t even have eyes.”

“I was wondering how you saw things,” Rune told Clovis.

A whirring sound interrupted our conversation.

“Shee-it, looks like we got company, boys.”

Pug-sized scorpions skittered over the pyramid, gliding across the top of the sand. There were hundreds, and our immediate reaction was to get to work, Axl Rose in my hand, Clovis with his sword, Rune smashing the desert critters left and right with his white metal chainmail gloves.

Larger ones started to appear, followed by an ominous shadow.

“Randy!?”

“I see it, Clovis!”

Take the Chicago Bean, or Cloud Gate sculpture if you want to be fancy, multiply it by four, add pincers and a stinger, and you’ve got one mad mama scorpion with enough weight to get the sand moving.

And move it did.

A landslide of granulated sand swept the three of us up. It was like being struck by a wave, sand filling my mouth as we were sent under. I tried to scream but I couldn’t. The next impact felt as if I’d been struck by a dump truck. I was carried up again, sand cascading all around as I clawed for Clovis, Rune, anyone to help me get my bearings.

Whoosh!

The next impact caused the ground beneath me to shift. The sand stopped and I began to fall into a cold, dark room. I hit the ground, rolled over, only to strike the body of a muscled giant of a man.

All of it happened that fast.

“Rune? That you?” I asked, the darkness swelling all around me. A turquoise glow appeared above me, Clovis letting off enough light that I was able to make out our surroundings. We were in an underground chamber, the ceiling above us with a line parting down the middle, a trickle of sand falling, the grains accented by just a hint of light.

Apparently, we had fallen through some sort of trapdoor.

“Boy, I tell you…” Rune sat up, the big man laughing. “I’m surprised we ain’t dead.”

The roof shook, more sand spilling into the underground chamber. It sounded like the big mama scorpion was trying to get to us.

“Let’s just hope we aren’t stuck here,” I told him as I began scanning the room for an exit.

Rune got to his feet and offered me his big hand. “We’d better hurry, amigo. I ain’t trying to die down here.”

Chapter Twenty-One: Mamas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Ascendants

Rune pried at a door made of stone, dust filling the air as it finally shifted open. “Yep,” he said in his Southern patois, the big man proud of his handiwork. “Never thought I’d find myself in the chambers of a pyramid trying to escape a big-ass scorpion, but here we are. How ‘bout you, writer? Surely, you’ve thought of something like this.”

I followed Rune into the next dark corridor, the scratching and frantic motions of the mama scorpion now several rooms behind us and still making my palms sweaty. There was no telling how far down we were, but it was certainly cold and dark. A bit creepy, too.

“Well? You ever write about something like this here?”

“Trapped in a series of underground chambers chased by a giant scorpion…?”

I thought through the dozen or so books I’d penned. There had been a few occurrences of being trapped—nothing like putting your main character in a tight situation to keep the tension going—but again, and I can’t stress this enough, the things that happen in a fantasy book aren’t normally situations people have to deal with in real life. The whole point of these books is escapism.

“There was that one scene in Oh, Great, I Fell in Love with a Demon Mimic and Now I’m Going to Hell to Become a Dungeoncore Farmer…”

Rune stopped walking and turned to Clovis. “Is that really the name of a book?”

“One of his books from a pen name, Angel Farts. Don’t ask me why he named himself that, I just read what I like. And that scene, don’t you remember? Kel-seeyah, the demon mimic, takes Jason to her underground lair. She pins him down and—”

“—That’s enough, Clovis,” I said, gritting my teeth. It was the work I was least proud of.

“Wait, I’m interested in this. I don’t read so well, but I love me a good story.”

“And this one is a good story. A real hero’s journey. Joseph Campbell really was speaking through Angel Farts here when he wrote it, I can tell.”

“Clovis…”

The spellbook turned to me, his turquoise energy illuminating a new chamber with sandstone walls. The map appeared, pulsating, letting me know we were getting closer and closer to the final ring. It looked like we only had a few more chambers to go.

“Tell me what happened next,” Rune said in a voice that I wasn’t about to protest.

“Kel-seeyah tickles Jason, at first, then she multiplies herself and enters every orifice, igniting his auracore. See, Jason might be a farmer in real life, but his ancestors were auracore cultivators and this unlocks his true potential.”

“Ooo, I like where this is going,” said Rune. “Before you continue, what the hell is up with these names? Why do you got some weird elfy name like Kel-seeyah, or whatever, and then Jason?”

“I always thought Jason was named after the MC from He Who Fights With Monsters…”

“Not exactly,” I told Clovis. “I named him after a cool stoner friend of mine. Regarding Kel-seeyah, I’ll admit, she was named after my ex-wife, Chelsea.”

“You were divorced when you wrote that? If anything, I figured that would have been the book that broke the two of you up.”

“I don’t know how to interpret that comment, Clovers, but no, we weren’t divorced just yet when I wrote that book. Living separately mostly due to our writing schedules, but we still, well, you know.”

“Still fucking like little bunnies, huh?” Rune asked, the big man ducking under a support beam made of what looked like petrified wood.

“No, not that fast, well, depending on the alcohol involved.”

“Yup, I get it. I had a few girlfriends while I was in Huntsville. Real talk, though: Texas don’t have conjugal visits, so I had to make do with photos and videos.”

“How’d you get videos?” I asked, genuinely interested. It wasn’t often that I met someone who had spent time in the slammer.

“Anything is possible in prison as long as it is a size that can be smuggled. Cellmate had a phone, and well, you know what kind of shit you can get into with a phone. But that’s another story for another day. What about this Chelsea of yours, she ever hear about Kel-seeyah?”

“No, she didn’t read that particular book, thank God. She read others, though. She was a writer, urban fantasy and romance. Edited the first Kung Fu Fable I wrote.”

Rune considered this title. “Is that some Chinese fighting shit? Because I’m all about that, let me tell you. Saw Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon like five times when I was a kid and shee-it, I always wanted to learn me some martial arts since then.”

“Sure, you could call it that,” I said, not wanting to get into an explanation of cultivation fantasy, xianxia in particular. There were nuances.

“But back to this book you wrote. Did you say this demon lady entered every orifice? Because damn, if that ain’t kinky as hell, Randy! Kinky Friedman over here.”

“Who? It was deeper than that…”

Rune nearly keeled over laughing. “Heh! I’ll bet it was, amigo!”

“Not…” I sighed, knowing that I had set myself up for that. “Kel-seeyah was tapping into Jason’s auracore, not trying to—”

Sand fell from the ceiling, a few petrified support beams cracking as well. The conversation ended abruptly as we raced forward, into another, narrower chamber that had a musty smell to it. Cracks formed on the sandstone walls around us, letting in light from the outside.

I heard the snap of pincers; mama scorpion was near.

“Dang, we better hurry!” Rune moved even faster, the big man fueled by stamina and solid muscle as the ceiling began to give way behind us. Dust and debris swelled forward, Clovis racing just a foot or so ahead of me, a few pages flying out.

I tried to keep up, and was just reaching Rune when the big man turned, a wild look in his eyes.

“What…?” I started to ask.

“Go, man, go!”

Rune lifted both gloved hands over his head as the ceiling collapsed under the weight of the scorpion, the big man holding it up long enough for me to pass through to safety.

I could see the scorpion’s legs now, its pincers snapping at the sandstone as Rune supported a portion of the giant insect’s body.

“Run, guys!” Rune shouted, his back to us now, muscles straining, veins bulging. “Run!”

“Rune—!”

Swwick!

The scorpion’s stinger met the side of Rune’s head. Not only did it sting the big man, it also ripped his head clean off his body as the ceiling completely collapsed. We were now in a chamber completely blocked off from the direction we’d just come.

Rune had been decapitated.

“Holy… holy shit, Clovers…” I said, my heart in my throat.

Clovis floated over to what was left of Rune, the big man buried in rubble, just a single, white metal gloved hand sticking out reminiscent of Michael Jackson.

“He’s… he’s…” Rather than droop, Clovis suddenly perked up. He shifted toward the rubble above us, movement on the other side. “We need to kill that scorpion, don’t we, Randy?” And even though he was a spellbook, I could tell he was gritting his teeth as he said this.

I offered Clovis a firm nod. “Get the ring, and kill the scorpion, yep.”

Then I threw up.

****

As I caught my breath and tried to deal with the sickness I’d felt in seeing someone die—someone that wasn’t an NPC, someone that now was part of Genera’s synthetic reality—Clovis examined my vomit.

“I would have puked too, if I were human. Looks like it was mostly nuts, but maybe something from last night’s dinner with Bobby and Kandi is in there as well.”

“Clovis…” My eyes fell onto the white glove on Rune’s dead hand. “Not now.”

The room shook, more sand trickling down from the ceiling. Clovis tilted up, energy brightening around him.  “I think the scorpion is right over us.”

“We’ll get that scorpion, don’t you worry about that. I don’t yet know how but…” An idea struck me. It was incredibly stupid, like most my ideas tended to be in retrospect, or maybe it was just clever enough. But I was going to need something to make it happen aside from a fair amount of luck. “I hate to do this but…”

Once I was back to my feet, I crouched before Rune and took the white glove from his hand, noticing something that I had noticed earlier, that it was actually made from a very fine chainmail.

Hamsterdamian Metal Glove (rare)

Used specifically for fighters, the Hamsterdamian metal glove is indestructible and adds two points in both defense and strength to a user’s basic stats.

“Dang,” I said as the glove resized to fit my hand. I examined it for a moment; it would definitely help in what I planned to do to that goddamn scorpion.

“You’re going to loot his corpse?”

“What? No, nothing like that…”

A box appeared, letting me know the things that Rune had carried on his person, including five hundred and fifty lyra, a potion of invulnerability, a magical doorknob, and an elven jockstrap.

I hated to do it.

“You’re going to loot him, aren’t you? Just after you threw up because of his death, now you’re going to steal from him?”

More sand fell from the ceiling; I also noticed that my map was flashing, reminding me that we were extremely close to the ring.

“Fuck, Clovis, I hate to do it but…” I nodded. “Rune would have done the same.”

“Why? Because he was a convict?”

“No, not that. Nothing like that. I don’t even know what he was in for.”

“He was in for murder. Didn’t you hear him say how he had a neighbor whose dog kept pissing in his yard and he shot him one night. The owner. He shot the owner, but then he accidentally shot the dog too when it attacked him.”

“What? When did he say all that?”

“Back there.” Clovis flicked his pages to the direction we’d just come from.

“I must have been lost in my own thoughts. So… he really was a murderer?”

“Sure, but should we still loot him?”

I took one more look at the loot available. “I’ve got a way to make this right. Trust me. Or at least, make it feel better than it does right now. Thank you, Rune. We’ll reach the top and, um, honor your legacy.”

Potion of Invulnerability (uncommon) (1)

Allows invulnerability for two minutes, but the player will fall into a coma for ten minutes after using the potion.

---

Magical Doorknob (ultra rare)

Provides a single-use door in any location to escape from.

---

Elven Jockstrap (Common)

A perfect way to protect your family jewels with two additional defense points.

“Let’s keep moving,” I told Clovis, glad he didn’t comment on what it felt like to wear another man’s jockstrap. Like the gnome clothing, it had auto-adjusted to my size and seemed clean enough.

Still, it was a bit warm.

The two of us navigated a new corridor, one with high ceilings and glowing petroglyphs above adding a Stargate touch that I didn’t know we were missing. What had happened to Rune remained fresh on my mind. It was a reminder that any one of us could die at any moment, and thus far, Clovis and I had been lucky as hell to remain alive. Would Rune have eventually joined our guild? He seemed like a good enough dude, even if he was a murderer, and it would be nice to have a tank in the guild. One thing was for certain: as we progressed through the realms, the ascendant headcount around us would drop significantly.

This led me to wondering about how Clovis and I would make it to the top alive, especially if only one Ascendant could actually complete the tower.

One task at a time, I reminded myself as we entered a circular room, one with a pillar of light emitting from the ceiling. The ring we were looking for was on a pedestal in the center of the space.

We had done it.

And then we hadn’t.

The big mama scorpion came crashing through the ceiling, sand and debris whipped up into the air. Clovis and I pressed back into the chamber that we’d just come from. The scorpion sent its pincers forward, which had a way of cracking the narrow entrance.

It only took a split second for me to do the math; either we’d be buried in rubble or the mama scorpion would break through, not to mention her stinger, which was already to the point that it was reaching several feet into our confined space.

“Randy…”

“Not now, Clovis!” I said as I equipped the handheld mirror.

“Randy…!”

I heard the scuttle of scorpions. I turned and was greeted with several dozen of the pug-sized scorpions, all racing down the corridor toward us, crawling over one another.

“Shit! Clovis, I need…” I pointed the mirror in the direction of the mama scorpion, holding it with the metal glove I’d lifted off Rune. “Hit this with your gamma ray! Let’s fry the fucker, grab the ring, and portal out of here. Do it!”

“My power doesn’t work like that; I… I don’t have control!”

“Yes you do, goddammit!” I told him, the horde of scorpions just about ten feet away from us now, the big one nearly into the corridor too. “Do it for Rune! We promised each other we’d kill this thing!”

A smaller scorpion reached my foot and I stomped at its head. I kicked at another one, still holding the mirror up. It had to work; the gamma ray was a form of energy, and if it hit the mirror glass, the power would hopefully strengthen. I’m no scientist, but by God, this was science!

“Clovis…”

“Come on!” he shouted, trying to psyche himself up. “Come on, Clovis, come on!” He did a complete circle and opened in the middle, a page falling out as the energy spiraled around him. “For… Rune!”

“Come on, Clovers, you’ve got this!”

“Randy… Randy…”

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAMMMMMMMMMMM!

Clovis’ gamma ray struck the mirror, which seemed to amplify his power. I hung on for dear life, my foot stomped into the head of a smaller scorpion, its pincers still moving as Clovis blasted its mother. The searing turquoise magic cut through the mama scorpion like a laser wielded by Lex Luthor, splitting our opponent in half, the smaller scorpions scattering once they witnessed what Clovis was capable of.

The mirror cracked. Clovis spiraled to the ground, the spellbook splayed out on his back as I approached, smoke billowing off my gloved hand.

“Holy hell, Clovers…”

He coughed, a page twisting up into the air and settling. “I… I did it, Randy.”

“You did, buddy.”

“I got… a level too… I’ve… reached Level 5.”

Pumping my fist in the air was instinctual at this point. “Hell yes, you did. Nice! We just need to find the ring, and then get back to the center of the desert. We’re doing it, Clovis, we’re going to ascend any moment now!”

“Can… can I rest for a few more minutes?”

I glanced at the scorpions that were still left, all of them cowering away from us now. Once I had Axl Rose in my hand, I offered Clovis a short nod. “Rest for a few minutes, but then we’d better fast travel. We’re out of mirrors.”

Chapter Twenty-Two: Hamsterdam Is One Hell of A Place

The three rings that would allow us to ascend to the next floor hovered above Clovis and me, little sparks of energy visible even with the glaring sun of the Endless Desert.

“Should I blast it with a Magic Missile?” Clovis asked, the spellbook hovering in front of the stake. For a moment it didn’t seem possible for the small rings we’d found to fit on the stake. There weren’t any other ascendants around, and a few of the businesses and hostels that we’d seen earlier were gone, including Doyle Kyo, the bakeneko seller.

“With…” I sighed at the words that were about to come out of my mouth: “With great power comes great responsibility. You can’t just blast shit with Magic Missiles all the time.”

“Is that like ‘you either die a hero, or live long enough to become a villain?’”

“Not exactly,” I told him. Becoming a wizard—God, I couldn’t believe I was now supposed to refer to Clovis as a wizard—should have come with a boost in intelligence. It didn’t. His magic regen was boosted at 50% per hour, he’d gotten a big jump in MP, and as Lily had said, he had instantly learned a power called Shield and Magic Missile, which he had subsequently used skill points to boost to level two.

But he was still Clovis, even if he had finally reached Level 5 and taken a class.

One of the stakes near us was still on fire from when Clovis tested out his Magic Missile power. While we hadn’t run tests on his other powers yet—Gamma Ray, Teleportation—it was clear that he could now cast things more easily.

“Well, my vote is for another Magic Missile—”

As Clovis said this, the rings began to expand, their outer edges bubbling as they grew large enough to drop onto the stake.

A booming male voice appeared at the back of my head:

Congratulations!

You have ascended to the next floor. Here are your floor rewards!

Paper Talisman Token (Uncommon)

Usage of this token allows you to summon a group of flying paper cranes to deliver paper cuts to an enemy. It can be used three times.

Idol of Distraction Token (Rare)

There is no telling what the Idol of Distraction will do if you cast it, but you can only cast it once.

HP and MP Analyzer Token (Common)

No need to worry about keeping track of numbers any longer. Simply look at your HP and MP bar through this customizable user interface token.

I would have commented on what we had received, but everything began to blur on the periphery, the ground starting to press away, my fingers and arms slowly disintegrating.

There was a sudden snap!, and we were back on the ground again, only now Clovis and I were in the park of a bustling city filled with… hamsters. Everywhere I looked, bipedal hamsters went about their lives, most, aside from the youngsters, around three feet tall.

I scratched the back of my head as I took it all in. “This… this must be Hamsterdam.”

Clovis shifted toward a fountain that featured a pair of hamsters fighting with swords, both in ballet-like poses as water spurted into the air around them. There were mother hamsters seated at the front of the fountain, gossiping as their children played. “I don’t know about you, but this place sort of gives me downtown Boston vibes.”

“Since when did Boston have a crapton of hamsters?”

“People have hamsters in New England,” he started to tell me, our dialogue interrupted by Lily.

<Congrats. You have made it to Hamsterdam. I truly am surprised.>

Clovis laughed at her snark; I merely shrugged it off.

<You have three days to clear the final three floors and ascend to the Second Realm, which I’m sure you’ve probably figured out by now if you can count, and if you’ve been paying attention. Hamsterdam is one of the more unique floors of the tower, namely because it is a place you will likely want to visit again, but also due to the number of elite ascendants that live here. It is a true metropolis.>

I could see the buildings that lined the outer edge of the park, most of them three and four stories tall. The trees mostly blotted out the view of the actual streets, but I had a feeling we were about to be in for a wild time, especially once a hamster rolled right past us, the little guy sweating in his hamster wheel as he moved onto a flagstone path.

“What do we need to do to ascend? Does it have something to do with the inner tower?” I recalled that each floor had an outer tower and an inner tower, where ascendancy took place.

<Hamsterdam Park is the inner tower. The outer tower consists of the city proper demarcated by four boroughs. There is Rodentia, which is an enormous shopping district to the north; Sungorus, the dangerous forest to the west where artists and criminals live.>

“Wait, that’s how Sungorus is defined? Where artists and criminals live?”

<Would you like me to continue explaining Hamsterdam to you, or would you prefer to figure it out for yourself, Angel Farts?>

“Sorry, continue.”

<Gansu is the wealthiest district of the city, and it is due east; Curtacus is the industrial and farming hub, to the south. The challenge for this floor is one that I think you, especially, will appreciate.>

“Why’s that?” I asked her as one of the mother hamsters took a swig from a sippy cup full of red liquid.

<The assignment is simple. Get one hundred ruby Hamster Coins and you will ascend to the next floor. There are four types of Hamster Coins. Ruby Hamster Coins are worth one thousand lyra; gold Hamster Coins, one hundred lyra; silver Hamster Coins, ten lyra; and bronze Hamster Coins, one lyra. Another thing—>

“—wait, is this a crypto assignment?” I asked, connecting the dots.

<No, it is not. You are to take as many side quests as you can until you can get the ruby Hamster Coins that you need.>

“But I could, just being theoretical here, exchange the Harmon Tokens I have for ruby Hamster Coins. I mean, maybe I’ll have to use LyraCoin as a medium, but you get what I’m saying.”

<Theoretically you could do anything you want, including punch yourself in the face, but you’d have to find someone able to make the exchange, which may prove difficult.>

“Someone able to do it, huh?” I took a quick look at Clovis, who had floated over to the mother hamsters, their children now watching the spellbook hover over them. Turquoise energy flared around him and he fired a Magic Missile into the air like a firework, the kids going bonkers for it. I was just about to chide him when I remembered something Lily had told me about a bookseller in Hamsterdam. If we found this bookseller, maybe they would be able to point me in the direction of a place to swap currencies.

It was worth a shot.

****

The hamster people (that can’t be what they’re called) were not happy to see me when I approached. The three women quickly gathered their kids and moved on, leaving me standing there with Clovis and feeling as if I’d said something wrong.

“Wow, Randy, hamsters really hate you.”

“Maybe it was just those hamsters.” I swiveled and found that another group of hamsters were avoiding us, clear in the way that their bulging black eyes twitched. “Lily?”

<First, you should remove your Gillsuit. You no longer need it here, but it will be helpful in some of the drier floor climates you may find yourself.>

“Will do,” I said, and just saying this stripped the Gillsuit from my body and tossed it into my list in token form.

<The citizens of Hamsterdam do not trust anyone but themselves. However, they have poor eyesight, and through the usage of the hamster beanie, you will be able to fit in just fine. Put this on.>

“Did you say… hamster beanie?”

A golden yellow beanie flashed into existence before me. There were black eyes and an additional pair of ears sewn onto the top. The sides of the beanie had whiskers on it, and it buttoned beneath my chin to keep it in place. It looked ridiculous.

Hamster Beanie Token (common)

Wear this in Hamsterdam unless you want the citizens there to shun you.

I placed it on my head, and found that it was a bit snug.

“I really like the hamster hat on you. It brings out the color in your eyes.”

“What about Clovis?” I asked Lily, ignoring his comment. “Why am I the only one that has to wear the hat?”

“I’m not human. They probably just think I’m a magical spellbook.”

“Because… you are?”

“A magical spellbook from Ithaca. Did you mess with the HP and MP bars yet? They’re customizable! I set mine up so every time I use magic, pages flutter in one direction.”

I gave him a funny look. “That seems distracting.”

“It is!”

“I’ll just…” Thinking about these bars caused them to appear, this particular User Interface Token intuitive enough to equip on its own. I kept it simple, going with red for HP and green for MP. I did the same for Clovis, but made it more transparent so my HUD wouldn’t be too cluttered.

“Did you customize it in a cool way? I also made mine the color of an old paperback book.”

“I kept things basic,” I said, recalling that review I’d once received that said my work was really basic. I was still annoyed by that, for some reason. I returned my focus to Lily. “I’m assuming there’s a map of Hamsterdam available.”

<As usual, you assumed wrong. Ascendants aren’t granted maps for this floor. You can buy one for each borough.>

“Figures, Genera is always looking to fuck us over in some way, or at the very least, make a buck. How’s this? Can you point us in the direction of this bookseller you mentioned previously?”

<I can. He’s in the Rodentia, the shopping district. His name is Yawapata.>

“Yawapata backwards is ‘a tap away,’” said Clovis.

“How—?”

Before I could get the question out, a red line appeared in the area where my map would be, everything around it obscured. I got the picture—follow the red line, reach the bookseller. Since Rodentia was the shopping district, it was likely the place I would be able to exchange Harmon Tokens for Hamster Coins, or Harmon Tokens for LyraCoin and then convert that to Hamster Coins.

I just had to keep my eye on the prize.

“There sure are a lot of hamsters here,” Clovis said, interrupting my train of thought as we moved in a westerly direction through the Hamsterdam Park. Everything was verdant here, reminding me of Portland in the spring, when the foliage came alive again, the blooming white Pacific Madrones adding a waxy white to the city. And while Clovis’ statement was obvious, it wasn’t wrong. There were a lot of hamsters. But there were other fantasy denizens too.

In just walking through the park, we spotted one of the ascendants from our pod, a wraith-like bone mage hovering like a demented dementor, demented in the fact that she too wore a hamster beanie, throwing her entire killer demonic schtick off kilter. I raised my hand to wave at her; she moved on, ignoring us.

“She seemed nice,” said Clovis, in what was, yet again either a sarcastic observation or Clovis misreading someone. I could never tell.

We came to a bustling cobblestone street with hamster wheels lined up on either side, a police hamster—this is so stupid—directing traffic with a whistle. Like the mothers we’d seen, he took a sip from a red bottle that was attached to a lanyard around his neck.

“What’s the juice everyone is drinking?” I asked as a line of hamster wheels continued on, the hamsters running at various speeds inside.

“Some sort of hamster juice.” Clovis started to float into traffic, which caused the hamster cop to start blowing his whistle at the spellbook. He shouted, pointed at Clovis, took a swig from his sippy cup, and went back to managing traffic.

“No jayfloating, apparently,” I said as we waited our turn to cross, hamsters in wheels continuing to pass before us.

“I could just rise in the air above them…”

“Let’s try not to get into trouble.” I spotted a restaurant across the street, the sign above reading Hamstra. It seemed posh, with well-dressed hamsters seated at tables outside, a few munching down on leaves, all with red juice. “Now, about this hamster juice, if that is what it’s really called. Lily?”

<Hamster juice is by far the most popular beverage in Hamsterdam. There are several different companies that supply it, and it has been classified as a narcotic in other floors of the tower.>

“I thought the tower floors were always changing,” said Clovis, actually engaging Lily for once. “I mean, I think you said something like that. Or someone did. Maybe it was the voice that used to be in my head. If so, how can it be classified as a narcotic? Not only that, how can Hamsterdam exist if the floors are already changing?”

<Wow, an actual good question from the spellbook. So it is possible… The tower is built upon a blockchain with some agreed-upon parameters. Certain floors, like Hamsterdam, do not change, while other floors constantly change every time a new group of ascendants reach the floor, but then they are set for the entire ascendancy. Not only that, once you have ascended to the next floor, the floor you just cleared is locked into the blockchain and you can visit it again.>

“So we can go back to the Endless Desert?”

<That is correct. Some are locked after you have visited, like the first floor of the First Realm, where you had the death match.>

I grimaced, wishing yet again that I hadn’t wasted the ribbon marker in such a stupid way. It was hard not to do noob shit in a place you didn’t quite understand. I got that now. I used to agree with LitRPG readers that the main character should get better much faster than a normal person, especially if the MC was a gamer. But I got it now—a sort of a ‘walk a mile in your shoes’ scenario. Everything was easier in retrospect, or from a God’s Eye perspective. If I ever wrote another book, I would keep this in mind.

“And all nine hundred ascendants who cleared the Death Match are here?” I asked.

<There are 821 ascendants currently in different versions of Hamsterdam, all existing at the same time. Your version is linked to the fifty ascendants from the pod you came in on to keep things more manageable at these earlier floors. Once you reach the Second Realm, this will be shuffled, and you will meet new ascendants.>

“We haven’t even met all the ones in our pod yet…”

“I’m not good at making friends,” Clovis said, which was not at all surprising, “but I seem to be doing well here. I’m friends with you, Lily, Emiko, Bobby, and Thorgrim Maltwhirl.”

“Did you say Thorgrim? You mean the goblin-gnome that assaulted us back at the Ogreview Cafe?”

“I didn’t recognize him at the time—not to be racist, but the goblin-gnomes all sort of looked the same to me—but I remember him from being a prisoner in their dungeon. He was nice. Only kicked me a few times.”

“Fuck that gnome, or goblin, or whatever, Clovis. He isn’t your friend. I hope we never see that little shitbird again. And for that matter, neither is Bobby Bad Fingers. That halfling bastard stole shit from us, don’t forget that.”

“That’s just what rogues do.”

“He’s not our friend.”

<I am also not your friend, Clovis, just to be clear.>

“That’s fucked up,” I told Lily.

“We’re friends,” Clovis assured me after we were finally allowed to cross the street, the hamster cop giving us a dirty look as we passed. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”

****

Yawapata’s Bookshop was at the back of a dead end alley, one lined with trash bins. Even though it would have been a great place for the homeless to pitch a tent—a sight I had sadly grown used to living on the West Coast—everything seemed to be orderly and taken care of. No old gum stuck on the ground, none of the trash bags were torn open or the bins looted through, and there wasn’t any graffiti either. These hamsters might have been hopped up out of their minds on hamster juice all the time, but they ran a squeaky clean city.

We entered the shop through a wooden door that I had to duck under, which was something I saw was going to be the case in most places in Hamsterdam. Luckily, the interior had proper ceilings, books upon books lining the shelves around the shop.

It both made me happy and sad.

I loved a good bookstore, but it was a hard business to run without adding things like a coffee shop, local goods, greeting cards, like Powell’s Books in downtown Portland. People hadn’t stopped reading print books—it remained a multi-billion dollar industry—but finding and ordering them online, plus the onslaught of my bread and butter, audiobooks and ebooks, had really amped up the competition and decimated a lot of bookstores.

This didn’t seem to be the case in Hamsterdam, the shop filled to the point that I had to squeeze through a sea of hamsters, all wearing glasses, and many eagerly clutching books to their chests or skimming through them. Some were seated and flipping through pages; others had found little nooks to read in, utter focus on their hairy faces.

So this is what it would be like if more people read… I thought, keeping an eye on Clovis as we wound our way to the back of the shop.

This was something I’d discussed with authors before at events like 20to50k, a yearly event for independent authors held in Las Vegas. What if more people simply read? Even something like five percent more than current levels of readership. Some of those authors, myself included, had a few genre hits under our belts, and this was always a topic of discussion. How would that look? How would it even start? Would it start with an education better focused on enjoying literacy? What if schools had kids reading genre fiction instead of famous books that everyone had to read? (You know the ones.) Not that these classic works aren’t important, but what if there had been a better emphasis on reading simply for enjoyment?

Ignore my musings.

“Which one of these hamsters is Yawapata?” Clovis asked, loud enough to elicit several looks from the shop patrons.

A small hamster with black and white hair took a sip of his hamster juice as he nodded toward a hamster at the back, seated behind a high counter. There were other hamsters managing the two registers that surrounded him, the patrons of the shop fumbling with the currency of Hamsterdam, which were in fact coins. Gold, silver, bronze, and ruby, from what I’d already seen.

“Let’s…” I spotted the end of the line, my eyes darting back to Yawapata. The bookshop owner didn’t seem to be doing anything at the moment aside from flipping through a newspaper, the older hamster occasionally taking a sip of red juice. “I guess let’s just make our way to the front of the line.”

Clovis and I did just that, and as we approached Yawapata, I saw that he had one eye that was black, the other white. He wore a little cap, his neck thick with white hair. Something about the way he looked, including his plump size, reminded me of George RR Martin.

“The line is at the back,” said a male hamster behind us.

“We’re not here to buy anything.”

“The line is still—”

I continued on, not wanting to get in an argument with him when we were this close to accomplishing our task. First, we’d try to figure out more about Clovis. Then we would look for a crypto exchange to net a hundred ruby Hamster Tokens. It was a flawless plan. After all, it would be trying to take enough side quests to net one hundred thousand Lyra, the equivalent of a hundred ruby Hamster Tokens. I knew this was a better solution. I just knew it.

“What should we say, Randy?”

“Just let me do the talking.” An idea came to me and I went with it once I reached the nearest bookshop assistant policing line. “I’m here for the, um, book signing. But I need to speak to Yawapata first.”

The shop assistant, a younger-looking hamster with his hair parted to one side eyed me curiously. “I wasn’t aware of any signing.”

“It was just added to the schedule. My agent told me about it this morning.”

“Who is your agent?”

I gestured my thumb to Clovis.

“I get to pretend to be Angel Farts’ agent? Nice!”

The shop assistant took a sip from his hamster juice, unfazed by what the spellbook had said. Due to the nature of his black eyes, I wasn’t able to get a good read on him. He puffed his cheeks out and slowly started to nod. “You do look like an author…”

“I do?”

“He does?” asked Clovis. “I mean, of course, he is! And he has a ton of reverse harem bully romances that he’s written. Dark ones, too.”

“What? I didn’t write anything like that,” I started to tell Clovis, but by this point the shop assistant had hopped off his stool and was approaching Yawapata at the back. He spoke quickly to the bigger hamster, who nodded us forward.

That was suspiciously easy, I thought as I slipped behind the counter, Clovis in tow. We reached Yawapata, who offered us a withered grin once his assistant departed. “Ah… an ascendant and an Avariel spellbook,” he said, his voice whispery and wise.

“Wait, you can tell I’m not a hamster?”

Yawapata squinted at me through a pair of square-shaped glasses. “Most in Hamsterdam cannot, hence the reason for your disguise. But I can. And it doesn’t matter to me what you are. Why have you come here? Is there something you need, hmm?”

I was about to tell him about Lily but decided against it. While he seemed clever, I had no way of knowing how deep his knowledge of Genera ran. “We heard that you are able to read, um, him.” I gestured toward Clovis, who now hovered behind me. He was supposed to be next to me, and as I tried to turn and pull him forward, he came around to the other side. “Clovis…”

“Sorry,” he said, now floating before me, a page loose, turquoise energy rippling around him.

Yawapata shifted forward. After taking a sip from his hamster juice, he set the cup down and showed Clovis his open palms. “Well, are you going to let me examine you or not?”

“Just think of it as getting a physical,” I told the spellbook, who seemed reluctant to float forward.

“Are you sure?”

“Picture how awesome it will be to understand yourself. That came out wrong; you get what I’m saying.”

Clovis hovered over to Yawapata and lowered into the hamster’s waiting hands. He giggled as the hamster began flipping through his pages, the older rodent commenting under his breath how disheveled he was. “But I’ve seen books in worse shape,” he said, once he’d skimmed through a few of Clovis’ pages. “And your current levels?”

“I’m Level 6, he’s level 5,” I told him, which made me wish we could get a few more levels.

We really needed to catch up with the other ascendants.

“As much as I’d like to tell you what is in this book, I unfortunately cannot, mainly because you won’t understand it.”

“Can we at least get a summary?”

“The spells in this book, and the lore, are only understandable by higher-level ascendants. You may be able to understand a few once you reach Level 15, but I still doubt you’ll fully be able to grasp what this book details. Very interesting, and very rare, this book, one that needs restoration. You will have better luck getting it re-bound in one of the higher realms. I am too swamped with work right now to see to it.”

“You can’t even give us a hint?” I asked.

“Sure…” He started speaking in a dialect that sounded like he was crunching on amplified ice. “Did you understand any of that?”

“No.”

“I didn’t either,” Clovis said from his lap. He seemed to be very relaxed now, almost in his starfish pose. I was surprised he hadn’t started snoring.

“Come back to me when you reach your fifteenth level. We will see what I can do then.” Yawapata closed Clovis, startling the spellbook. “Is there anything else I can do for you ascendants?”

“Actually, there is. Do you know a place around here where we could exchange…” I decided to skip the Harmon Token part to make things simple. “A place where we could exchange LyraCoin for Hamster Coins?”

“LyraCoin, huh?”

“That’s right…”

Clovis had floated back over to me by the time Yawapata gave me an answer: “There may be a place, but it isn’t pleasant, and I wouldn’t recommend visiting it. That said, it may be your only option here in Hamsterdam. I’ll tell you what, head back to the other side of the counter, and I’ll have one of my assistants write down an address for you. I wish the two of you luck, and hopefully, I will see you again when you reach Level 15.”

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Hamfather; or, Why Clovis and I Shouldn’t Take Quests from the Hamster Mafia

Following Yawapata the bookseller’s directions had Clovis and me passing through a bustling food court, under a colorful archway, through a garden of wooden rodent statues, and around a hamster wheel repair shop. We arrived at a nondescript restaurant known as Hamlet, which had big, outward-facing windows letting in plenty of light and red and white window awnings.

“This doesn’t look like a crypto exchange place.”

“What would a crypto exchange place look like?” I asked the spellbook. “The Internet? Web 3.0?”

“A place with cyberpunk-looking guys out front?”

“Cyberpunk-looking guys? Got it, got it,” I said, thinking of the Bored Apes NFTs. They sort of looked cyberpunk-ish.

Clovis shifted up to the sign, which was on a piece of wood painted white, the words red. “Hamlet. Why does that name sound familiar?”

“Shakespeare wrote it. I guess we should just let ourselves in, right? Looks empty inside,” I said after I’d cupped my hands on the glass and taken a peek, my own breath causing a frosty circle on the exterior of the window. “It’s kind of stupid, if you ask me. I literally have a digital wallet, yet I have to find a place to physically exchange my Harmon Tokens. It’s like taking a step forward and then taking two steps back.”

“It sounds like you should stick to stable investments like I do, just an observation. I am honing my observational humor craft, as you know, and that starts with making observations.”

I turned to the spellbook. “What exactly do you invest in?”

“Nothing at the moment, but I did have an app called Acorn—or was it Popcorn? Some kind of corn—in the past that invested my loose change. I would have maybe invested more if I had actually done that research study on neural responses to high-fructose corn syrup, but here we are.”

Here we are, I thought as I placed my hand on the door handle to find that Hamlet was indeed open. This reminded me that I still had the Magical Doorknob token I’d picked up off Rune, as well as some of the lyra we had taken from the big man, six hundred lyra in total. But with each ruby Hamster Coin worth a thousand lyra, that wasn’t going to get us anywhere.

The only answer I could think of was swapping out some Harmon Tokens, something I was glad to do as we entered the restaurant to confirm that it was empty. The tables were all clean, and I got this feeling that the place hadn’t been used as an actual restaurant for quite some time.

“Anyone here?” Clovis asked aloud, which ruined our chance to snoop around a bit before we started calling for assistance.

Shuffling in the back of the room met my ears; I placed my hand on the grip of my axe, ready to pull it from its breakaway sheath when the revolving door of the kitchen swung open. A mahoosive hamster stepped out, a dagger at his waist. He was dressed in what I’d describe as a hamster’s version of a suit, which was more tunic-like and made of a dark material, the brute’s arms and legs more muscled than any rodent I’d seen yet.

“What do you want?” he asked, no discernible accent aside from a bit of gruff.

“We were told that we could, um, meet Antonio Criceto here. Yawapata sent us.”

“Tony? No one calls him by his full name,” the hamster told me with a grunt. “Call him the Hamfather.”

The Hamfather?

It was hard to hide the skepticism on my face at this point.

The spellbook started to laugh. “He’s the father of all ham? That’s such a stupid name!”

“Clovis—!”

The hamster placed his hand on the grip of his dagger. “What did you say, book?”

“Never mind him, he… he says things without thinking of how they’ll come out. The Hamfather, sure, that’s who we’re here to see.”

“And Yawapata sent you?” The beefy hamster looked from Clovis to me.

“He did. We came to talk about exchanging some LyraCoin.”

“LyraCoin, huh? Who doesn’t want to exchange LyraCoin for Hamster Coins. Hell, half the city would do it if it were easier. But it ain’t. And you know what? That’s between you and the boss. You can call me Niblets.”

“First or last name?” asked Clovis.

“Both.”

“I always wanted a single-word name. I’m Clovis Smith, this is Randy Lionheart, famed author who also writes under the pen name Angel Farts, you can call him either. You can call me Clovis.”

“A writer, huh? Don’t tell the boss that. He don’t like reading, and definitely don’t like journalists.” Niblets turned, and motioned us to follow him. “Come on.”

Clovis floated forward. “This restaurant seems nice, Niblets. Named after Shakespeare’s son, right?”

“Shakespeare’s play,” I told him under my breath.

“No it ain’t. And you know what?” Niblets turned, which nearly caused me to collide with him. I was still taller than the gargantuan hamster, but he had broad shoulders like a dwarf, and I got the sense that he could kick some serious ass if he wanted. “Why don’t you keep your mouth shut, eh? Sound like a good idea?”

“—Yes, it does,” I said, speaking for Clovis. “I’ll do the talking from here on out.”

“Good. You’re one of the good ones,” Niblets told me. “The boss will be able to tell too.”

Before Clovis could say anything else, we passed through a wooden door into a room with plush seating, candles on the table illuminating the face of a fat hamster seated before several plates of half-eaten leaves and nuts. He was currently in the process of munching down on some sort of pellet, which ballooned his left cheek before he washed it down with hamster juice.

“Who the hell is this guy?” he asked in a voice that sort of reminded me of Marlon Brando, if he were a hamster. “And what the hell is with the book?”

“Ahem, Hamfather, hi, nice to meet you,” I said, bowing my head to some degree as if that were the protocol here. “Yawapata sent us. He said you’d be able to exchange some of our LyraCoin to Hamster Coins.”

Niblets took his place near him, the big hamster with arms bent at the elbows, paws facing downward. His arms were too short for him to properly cross them over his chest. As he settled into position, the Hamfather stuffed another pellet in his mouth, He gestured toward the seat in front of him and I took it, the ends of the white table cloth now draped over my thighs. Clovis floated next to me, remaining quiet as I had asked.

“LyraCoin to Hamster Coins, huh? That might be something I can do,” the Hamfather finally said. “How much LyraCoin do you have?”

“How much would one hundred ruby Hamster Coins cost me?” I asked, trying to keep things vague.

“One hundred ruby Hamster Coins, eh?” The Hamfather burped, eliciting a giggle from Clovis. “What the fuck… the book can talk?”

“I’m not supposed to talk.”

“Who told you that?”

“I did, boss,” said Niblets. “He was asking questions you won’t like.”

“I’ll be the decider of that, you nitwit! Speak up, book.”

“Whew,” Clovis said, relaxing to some degree. “I have so much I’d like to say. For one, nice to meet you, Hamfather. I like your outfit, your style, all of it. You’re a ham-some hamster, that’s for sure.”

What? I thought, looking from the Hamfather to the spellbook.  Is he trying to soften him up? And for that matter, does Clovis even have the wherewithal to pull off something like that?

While his goon wore all black, the Hamfather himself was in all white, a nice little hat that resembled a fedora cocked on the side of his head. All of this was so stupid that I had to keep myself from laughing. The quicker we got this exchange over, the quicker we could ascend.

“Hamsome, huh? Heh. Funny. You’re a funny book. I like you, funny book.”

“I’ve been told that before!”

“But I don’t like dealing with jokers,” said the Hamfather, a scowl forming on his face. “I can’t trust a joker.”

“Trust me, we aren’t jokers,” I assured him. “Neither of us are funny. At all.”

“I—”

I cleared my throat before Clovis could launch into his observational humor act.

“Good, no jokers. Anyway, down to business. One hundred ruby Hamster Coins. One hundred…” The Hamfather clicked his tongue for a moment, as if he were running the numbers in his head. “Five billion LyraCoin. Best deal you’ll get in Hamsterdam.”

“Five… billion?” Each Harmon Token I had was worth 6,500 LyraCoins. This put me at just over six billion LyraCoins once I swapped out considering I had nearly 930,000 Harmon Tokens. I’d still have the equivalent of one billion LyraCoin left if I made the exchange, but…

“I don’t have that much,” I lied.

“I thought you said you were rich,” Clovis told me.

“I… I never said anything like that. Hamfather, that’s… there has to be another way. I can’t make that happen.”

“Can’t make it happen, huh?” he said, his ears flitting back. “Then why the hell did you come to me?”

“I need a hundred ruby Hamster Coins to… to take care of my son’s… um… eye surgery.”

“Eye surgery?”

“I mean, leg surgery. He hurt himself playing. A hamster wheel rolled over his foot, and it’s all sorts of fucked up.”

“But healthcare is free in Hamsterdam,” said Niblets.

“As it should be! But I know an even better doctor on a different floor—”

“You mean New Hamsterdam?” asked Niblets.

“Um, sure. And I need the Hamster Coins to cash into Lyra so I can pay him. Otherwise, little Johnny is going to be a gimp for the rest of his life.”

“Going to be a gimp, huh? Little Johnny?” The Hamfather narrowed his eyes on Clovis. “What does the spellbook have to do with it?”

“I’m… I’m actually little Johnny!” Clovis blurted out. “An evil dryad vampire stripper in a sexy bodice turned me into a spellbook. So I have to be turned back into a hamster first.”

“—To fix his legs,” I said, cringing at where this was going. “He has to be turned back into a hamster before we can fix his leg. I mean foot. His foot.”

“You’re actually little Johnny, and an evil dryad vampire stripper in a sexy bodice turned you into a spellbook after you were run over by a hamster wheel, huh?” The Hamfather puckered his lips and glanced up to Niblet, who clearly wasn’t buying it. The boss snorted, and began laughing so hard that his goon had to make sure he didn’t fall out of his chair.

The Hamfather was still a bit red in the face when he finally spoke: “That’s the dumbest, goddamn lie I’ve ever heard. Fucking hilarious too. Look, both of you, if you want a hundred ruby Hamster Coins, I got it, but you’re going to need to do a little favor for me. I jerk your wang, you jerk mine.”

“Isn’t that like you scratch my back, I scratch yours?” Clovis asked.

“Or a reach around. Look, sure, sure,” I said, sensing an incoming side quest. “Anything you want, Hamfather.”

He grew quiet. “Anything?”

I offered him the best smile I could muster. “Sure, anything.”

****

Note to self, or rather, note to reader: don’t tell a mobster hamster that you’ll do anything he wants. Otherwise, you’ll find yourself navigating the crowded streets of Rodentia with one thing in mind—how do I intimidate someone enough that they’ll pay me the money they owe the Hamfather? Further, the hamster we were supposed to shake down was related to the Hamfather. His cousin, in fact. If things got out of hand, and we had to fight and kill the hamster named Donny, it would put us into direct confrontation with the Hamfather himself.

“We can always do something else,” Clovis suggested as we waited for a public transit train to pass. If you’re thinking that the train was pulled by hamsters in wheels, you’d be wrong. The hamsters in wheels were under the train, all of them in official-looking city employee gear that happened to be royal blue. They tilted to the side at each stop, hamster passengers filing on and off via the usage of a ramp.

“Something else? You’re not wrong, but we don’t have much time. And aside from that, we don’t know what the challenges on the fourth and fifth floor will be. The sooner we get a hundred ruby Hamster Coins, the better. Those are my thoughts.”

“I just feel like there has to be a better way…”

“There’s always a better way, Clovers,” I told him as a pair of kid hamsters charged past us, the two aimed at a man pushing a candy stand. What does hamster candy taste like? It was questions like these that kept me up at night.

Clovis snapped shut, preventing a page from flying out. He opened again. “I wonder what some of the others are doing.”

“Other ascendants?” I asked him as I stepped around a balloon seller in a multicolored apron.

“And how we compare to them.”

“I don’t think either of us want to know how we compare to the other ascendants.” We reached a restaurant, one called McHamlet, that seemed to be pretty popular. There wasn’t a line outside the door, but it was packed, and its pink coloring and overall decor reminded me of Voodoo Donuts back in Portland. It didn’t look like we’d be able to go in through the front, not with how crowded it was, so we circled around the building instead.

“Ah, so this is where the magic happens,” Clovis said, which made no sense whatsoever until I saw two hamsters turning in a wheel that was affixed to a device pumping red liquid out of a giant vat into metal barrels.

Hamster juice...

“You’re not supposed to be back here,” said a hamster in a little cap, his fur brown with white splotches. He held a scroll in his paw, one that he’d clearly been checking until we showed up.

“We’re here to see Donny.” I had tried for an intimidating voice but it had come out stilted, as if I were holding in a fart. I cleared my throat and gave it another shot. “Donny, where is he? I’m only going to ask once.”

“Donny?” The hamster’s whiskers twitched as he looked at us. “You mean… Don? Don the boss? Boss Don?”

“We need to speak to him about something.” I lifted my shoulders to some degree, trying to use my size to my advantage. “A very important matter.”

The hamster started to cower away. “Are… are you here for the stuff?”

“So you know?” I asked.

“Should I shoot a Magic Missile at something?” Clovis whispered to me.

“No,” I told him under my breath. “I’ll tell you when to shoot stuff.”

“I… I don’t want any trouble,” said the worker hamster after he spotted Axl Rose at my waist. “I’ve got a family, you know, fifteen pups at home. The youngest has a learning disability and my wife can’t work because of it. She has to take him; he needs surgery to fix an issue with his legs.”

I squinted at the hamster; this sounded suspiciously like the lie I’d conjured and failed to sell earlier.

Clovis floated forward. “We’re not going to hurt you; we’re going to hurt Donny.”

I glanced at the spellbook, surprised at his tone.

“Donny? But… but Donny is an old man.”

“I don’t care if he’s a boomer or whatever comes after a boomer. We’re going to… we’re going to huff and puff and blow this restaurant up with Magic Missiles if you don’t give us the goods!”

Huff and puff? My god, Clovis was a monster!

“What he said,” I told the hamster, who was cowering even more. “Take us to Donny, now!”

“You… you want to go to Boss Don?”

Turquoise energy crackled around the spellbook. “Take us to Donny, or I start murdering innocent hamsters.”

“Holy shitballs, Clovis,” I told him as the hamster took a big step back and gestured for us to follow him.

“I’ve always wanted to be a bully. This is like being a bully, right?”

“Actually, it’s not far off…”

The worker hamster led us into the backroom of the restaurant and down a flight of stairs into a basement office with plenty of nice seating. There was a small kitchenette with marble countertops in the corner, and a single desk in the center of the room, where an old hamster with drooping whiskers and thick white eyebrows busied himself with paperwork.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Donny asked, an annoyed look on his face.

“We’re here for the goshdarn stuff and you know EXACTLY what I’m talking about!” Clovis shouted. “Now give us the stuff! And… and… I don’t give a McShit! I will turn this restaurant into a hamster graveyard, you silly, ugly, dumbbutt son of a bitch! YOU WILL BE A GHOST WHEN I AM THROUGH WITH YOU!”

“The Hamfather sent us,” I said, my heart thrumming in my chest at Clovis’ intensity, “you know what he wants, Donny. Let’s make this easy.”

The older hamster peered at us for a moment, a strange hint of clarity in his eyes. “Tony sent the two of you?”

“His name is the flippin’ Hamfather, have some respect! HAVE SOME RESPECT!”

“Hey, Clovers, maybe dial it back a bit…” I quickly told the spellbook.

“Hamfather? Fat little Tony isn’t a hamfather; well, he’s practically a ham, but he can’t even have kids. Poor asshole is sterile; drank too much juice as a kid. You can go,” Donny told the worker hamster, who had naturally gravitated away from us. He scurried up the stairs, leaving us with the older hamster. “You two know this is an insurance scheme, right?” he asked once his employee was gone.

“I don’t care! I don’t even have insurance! Actually, I am on my parents’ insurance but… but I still don’t give a McShit!”

“Clovis…” I said under my breath. His attempt to be a bully was starting to get awkward.

“Look, I’ll give you the stuff. In fact, it’s yours. It’s outside. All that good juice. That’s what Tony wants.”

“Call. Him. The. Hamfather.”

“I will do no such thing, book, now shut your filthy mouth.”

Clovis started to flare with magical energy, but ultimately stopped before he blew something up.

“Good. As I was saying, this is all part of Tony’s insurance scheme. He owns this restaurant, the whole chain of them. He bought the juice from our supplier and is now trying to steal it for the insurance money. But fine. You two want a spin in the wheel? Fine. No sweat off my back. Just tell the guys upstairs that Donny said to take the stuff to Tony.”

“That’s… that’s it?” Clovis asked me, no longer paying attention to the older hamster. “We don’t have to blow anything up?”

“Blow anything up? That’s not how we extort here in Hamsterdam, book,” Donny said as he returned his focus to his paperwork. “We may be crazy and our politics are shit, but ultimately, hamsters are good people, even the bad ones, even though we aren’t actually people. Now, do what I told you, and get the hell out of here! Tony is going to get caught one of these days, and I don’t want any part of it.”

****

We did as Donny the hamster had instructed us, the juice now set to be delivered to the Hamfather’s restaurant. It really was that easy, suspiciously so.

I had Lily route us back to Hamlet, the user interface map starting to become more visible as we explored. I didn’t feel good about anything we had done, but at least we would have the funds soon, and at least we hadn’t been forced to fight any hamsters or worse, kill them.

I kept expecting to run into other ascendants in our walk across Rodentia, through its various side streets and around public sculptures dedicated to famous hamsters of the past, but this never seemed to be the case. For a moment, I was able to simply enjoy the sights, everything from female hamsters dressed in cocktail dresses to singing drunks, big families, hustling merchants, and ubiquitous hamster wheels. Why there was a city in the First Realm called Hamsterdam was beyond me, but it looked like a decent place to live, especially once one got used to its citizens.

And I still needed to try some hamster juice…

“Was I too rough back there?” Clovis asked as we neared the restaurant known as Hamlet.

“If I were to give you notes, I’d just say to rely more on the fact that you’re a floating spellbook than threats. All you really had to do was flare up, maybe teleport—we still need to mess with that—and worst-case scenario, fire off a Magic Missile. But threatening to burn down buildings and turn the place into a hamster graveyard, while entirely creative, and ultimately inspiring, was a tad much.”

“People don’t like bullies.”

“No, they don’t.”

“But they seem to like assholes.”

“I’ve noticed that too, at least in our world. But this isn’t our world. This is…” I swept my hand at the Hamlet sign. “I don’t actually know what this is aside from bonkers. Let’s deal with Tony—”

“—The Hamfather, show some respect.”

“—Right, let’s deal with the Hamfather, and then ascend. It’s been a long-ass day, and I’d like to get some rest. Shit, maybe we should rest first then deal with Tony. I’ll ask Lily what to do after we get the Hamster Coins.”

<No need to ask me, I can hear the two of you.>

“Did you think I was tough back there, Lily?” Clovis asked.

<I thought you did well enough, but you wouldn’t have scared me into giving any information to you, and to find out it was for some bloody insurance scam?  Mental. Entirely mental. Clearly, I’m not of the hamster mindset.>

“You’re a voice in our heads.”

<You aren’t wrong, Clovis. Now, to answer your question, Angel Farts: once you have one hundred ruby Hamster Coins, you’ll take these to a booth in the center of Hamsterdam, in the park. I can place a marker on your map. So yes, you could theoretically stay the night if you’d like to rest.>

“And then we have two days left to reach the Second Realm.”

<More details to follow. After Hamsterdam, there are two additional floors, which the two of you can bumble your way through.>

“Do you like Randy’s hamster beanie?” Clovis asked.

<Sure. It’s quite fitting for someone like him.>

What’s that supposed to mean? I thought as we entered Hamlet, where we once again found the restaurant empty.

“Yo, Hamfather, we’re baaaaaack!”

I wanted to elbow the spellbook. “Maybe we should stick to more subtle entrances…”

The kitchen door swung open and seven absolutely stacked hamsters filed out. The suits surrounded us, the Hamfather the last to step into the dining room in his white get-up.

“Hey, fellas…” Clovis told the hamsters, all of whom carried weapons ranging from daggers to crowbars.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see what was about to happen. I could tell by the look on the Hamfather’s face. We’d been duped, and there was no way in whatever hamster hell this guy would end up in that we were going to get a hundred ruby Hamster Coins out of this interaction.

The Hamfather’s goons took a step closer, led by Niblets. As they did, their levels appeared.

Rodent Mobster, Level 15

Rodent Mobster, Level 12

Rodent Mobster, Level 14

And so on. All of them were nearly ten levels higher than Clovis and Yours Truly.

“Guys,” I said, showing them my palms, “Hamfather. We did what you asked, did we not?”

“Paid Donny a visit, huh?” The Hamfather winked at me, his fedora crooked in a way that made me want to walk over to him and fix it. “You two did well, real well for a pair of numbskulls. But it looks like something has come up.”

“What’s come up?” asked Clovis. “Do you have a date tonight or something?”

“Me? No, I don’t have a date. But the two of you do.”

“I can’t remember the last date I went on.” Clovis turned to me. “Do you think someone would even date a spellbook?” He tilted back to the Hamfather. “Arranged marriages aren’t really a thing where we’re from, but I suppose we’d be okay with a blind date, as long as there is consent.”

“Boss, you want us to go ahead and handle this?” asked Niblet, the lead muscle. “We can start with the mouthy book.”

“Guys, there’s no need to handle anything.” I grabbed Clovis and tucked him under my arm. “We were just seeing ourselves out.”

“Hey, what about our Hamster Coins?” Clovis asked, his voice slightly muffled by my armpit.

“They’re going to jump us,” I told him through gritted teeth.

“Like the Bloods and Crips do?”

I continued to back away from the high-level mobsters. “Exactly like that, but we don’t get to join the gang later.”

“That’s not fair…” Clovis pried himself free of my grip, energy radiating off him. “Give the word and I’ll burn this crap bucket to the ground.”

Clovis’ tone caused the mobsters to stop, including the Hamfather, whose eyes narrowed on the spellbook. “Look whose balls just dropped. Any of you ever seen a spellbook with a pair of pellets? You really think you’ll win this fight?”

“I don’t… I don’t give a McShit if we win or not! You owe us one hundred ruby Hamster Coins, and we plan to collect. PAY UP, OR GET MICROWAVED!”

I sighed. Normally, I’d be game as hell to Four Loko Randy my way into a fight with a horde of halfwitted Tony Soprano hamsters. But even if Clovis picked off a couple with a gamma ray, we were in over our heads.

“The book goes in a shredder, the other one…” The Hamfather smiled. “Let’s dice him up and add him to the next batch of hamster juice.”

I wanted to save it, I really did, but there had to be a reason one of the elite ascendants gave us an Idol of Distraction Token.

I summoned the token as the suited hamsters pressed forward. As soon as I cast it, a beautiful (I think she was beautiful) hamster flashed into existence wearing a coconut bra with tubes affixed to the place where her nipples would be, the scantily clad hamsterette with a tray of wine glasses, eight in total.

“Whoa…” said Niblets. The Hamfather’s main enforcer took a step back. “You guys seeing this?”

“Want some good hamster juice, boys?” the Idol of Distraction asked in a sultry voice. “Straight from the teat?”

I stuffed Clovis under my arm again and continued backing away as the hamsters, including the Hamfather, gathered around what was clearly an apparition. Once we reached the door, I bolted toward the street outside of the restaurant, and disappeared back to the more crowded thoroughfare.

The Idol of Distraction had worked wonderfully.

“We should have tried to fight them,” Clovis said once we were in the clear. He floated before me now, pages stuck haphazardly out of his form as always.

“They were high-level hamster mobsters, Clovis. That would have been suicide.”

“I wanted to see her extract hamster juice from her teat. That seems impossible.”

“Yeah…” I shook my head, both at the poor decision we’d made in visiting the Hamfather, and at the visual Clovis had just given me.

“What now? We still need to get a hundred coins.”

I rubbed my hands together. “Now? Now we do what we should have done all along—side quests. Let’s get back out there and kick some ass.”

“I just wanted to kick some ass, and you stopped me.”

“A first, that’s for sure. Let’s kick some more appropriate ass, you know, ass that is closer to our level, and by ‘ass’ I mean find some side quests.” I looked at a pair of hamsters whipping by in a clear wheel, the two racing. “Hamsterdam is our oyster, Clovers. Nope, no need to comment on what I just said. Let it sink in while we find some pearls.”

Chapter Twenty-Four: I’m Not Even Going to Try to Describe What Happens in This Chapter

Gansu was Hamsterdam’s most affluent district. To get there, Clovis and I had to take one of the trains that were carried by hamsters running in wheels beneath the cabin. It was an experience that I could write about for pages, but I’ll spare you. Just know that the cabins were quite crowded with hamsters and a few ascendants, all of whom wore the requisite hamster hats. Only two of the ascendants ended up talking to us, a rapping bard bird named Apollos and the dragonkin I’d seen on the pod earlier, who happened to be named Rob Blastforge, a last name that was almost as cool as Lionheart.

Almost.

I immediately took a liking to Apollos. The kid had a style, and it was clear he knew how to put together rhymes. Personally, I didn’t think authors gave rappers enough credit. After all, they did what we did (paint pictures with words) and made a lot more money at it, aside from your James Patterson and Brandon Sanderson types. Relatedly, since Patterson rarely writes his own books, how out of left field would a Sanderson-Patterson collab be? No, this could never happen, mostly because it shouldn’t, but I liked thinking of things like that from time to time. Take two authors, toss them together, see what is regurgitated.

I digress.

In any event, Apollos, the bird rapper bard (or rapper bird bard, or rapping bird bard?) was cool. Rob Blastforge was a bit overkill.

“Live by the sword, die by the sword,” he said in a Scottish accent for what felt like the sixth time since we’d gotten off at Gansu Station. Like any public work in the rich side of town, the Gansu Station was immaculate, with all the amenities that affluent hamsters had come to expect including additional security, fast lanes, pricey restaurants (at least based on their clientele), and microhotels in the form of round sleeping pods shaped like oversized pills.

“Live by the book, die by the book,” said Clovis, who wasn’t trying to troll Rob but came off as if he was.

“I showed ya me swords, wee one, imagine what they can do. Not a warning, but heed it anyway.”

“You didn’t stab anyone with them.”

“Heh! Numpty hamsters—no point in wasting my time gutting rodents.” The Scottish dragonkin warrior had a big blue scar across his face that was at odds with his red skin. He claimed the scar came from a dungeon raid against an ice drake (how he did all of this in the three days it took Clovis and me to reach the tower, I’ll never understand), and by the looks of his two serrated swords, which were a pair of blades that would have sparked a deep, orgasmic moan for Miyamoto Musashi, Rob meant business.

With this in mind, it was hard to see why he had partnered up with Apollos, who didn’t appear to have any fighting skills even with his gift of words. In all honesty, it was probably that; bards gonna bard, and a good one will bard well.

(Fuck, I wish I had chosen to be a bard instead of a human.)

“You’re so crazy,” Apollos said, the bird offering Rob a wink. “Killing hamsters and shit, I mean, line them up and we’ll be like blat, blat, blat! Nah, not really,” he said once a passing hamster gave the avian bard a funny look. “Just a few more ruby Hamster Coins and we’ll be in the money, son. The money.” He lifted his wing into a fist, an attempt to fist bump the dragonkin.

“Aye, we will. And don’t call me son, Apollos, we’ve been over this. I’m twice your bloody age.”

“Shit, pops, that just means you down to have twice the fun,” said Apollos, who hailed from Miami and had an accent that reminded me of the way Lin-Manuel Miranda sounded.

“We get these last ten Hamster Coins, and we’ll talk about fun. Pints on me!” said Rob, lightening up a little. In the short time that we had met him, the muscled dragonkin had gone from Mel Gibson in Braveheart to a Scottish bloke (as he called himself) that you’d want to spend an entire afternoon at a pub with. I got why Apollos the bard stuck with him, but didn’t see why Rob had stuck with Apollos. Then again, who was I to judge? I’d latched myself to a misguided spellbook that held me back as much as he helped propel me forward.

The world is weird like that.

“Let’s just find the richest house and ask if they have something for us to do,” Clovis suggested.

“For real? Ha! This book is fucking crazy, Rob, pinche loco. Just straight up knock on someone’s door and be like, ‘yo, you got a job for me?’” said Apollos, loud enough that yet another passing hamster heard him. Like us, the bird bard also wore a hamster hat, only confusing the matter further. “That’s how you get got, homie. Someone comes knocking on my door asking for Hamster Coins. Shit, don’t even make me say it.”

“Get got?” Clovis looked at me.

“It means get shot.”

“You know, blat, blat, blat!” Apollos used his feather like a gun.

“Or we could just use this…” Rob produced a token. The orb hovered before him, a question mark swiveling around it. “Bought it back in Rodentia, a Quest Finder Token.”

“We really need to buy some stuff,” I said, not able to prevent a yawn from escaping my lips.

Apollos whistled. “It sounds more like your ass needs some hamster juice. Rob and me got some earlier. Shit is crazy, yo. Like, let’s call it some go-juice ‘cause that’s exactly what it is. Up and out. Wildness.”

“Hamster juice, huh? So it is sort of like coffee?” I spotted a hamster juice stand at the Gansu Station exit. It wasn’t the only one, but the stand across from it read Hamlet’s Hamster Juice, meaning it was part of the Hamfather’s criminal empire.

“Like coffee? I mean, if you put a kilo of high-grade Adderall in it and gave it a jolt of meth and a chaser of Red Bull, then hamster juice would be like coffee. Rob will tell you. Just ask him.”

I looked over to Rob and he nodded. On our ride over, I had noticed that Apollos liked to exaggerate things.

Still, if it would give me a boost…

“In that case, let me grab one and then we can get questing. Also, it goes without saying—”

“—But you’ll say it anyway,” Clovis chimed in.

“Yeah. Ahem. Thanks for letting us join in your quest. We are off to a late start.”

“Ain’t no thing,” said Apollos, his wing transitioning into a thumbs up. “We hooked up with some fools earlier, and the quest reward doubled, so we got an even split. Not like we can kill y’all, and it’s not like we would anyway. Just need to say that. Fuck that first floor, man. I mean that, too. Forcing us to thin the herd ourselves, not cool at all. We one world over here, even if this dude is from Scotland, the spellbook is from New York, I’m from Miami, and you’re from… where were you from again?”

“Oregon.”

“Like that show Portlandia.”

“Just like that. Be right back.” I approached the hamster juice stand to find a male hamster in a little red hat that matched his apron. “Um, one hamster juice, please.”

The hamster behind the counter smiled down at me. “Great. Question.”

“Yeah?” I asked; it always struck me as strange when someone simply said ‘question.’

The barista hamster’s whiskers twitched. “Do you want your juice hot or cold?”

It was breezy out, so I chose cold.

“Nice choice. We have several flavors we can enhance it with, our most popular being peanut butter.”

“What does it taste like in the first place?” I asked, assuming it was some sort of juice based on its color.

The barista hamster smiled as if I were fucking with him. “Flavor, sir?”

“Sure, um, peanut butter.”

“Whipped cream or no whipped cream.”

This really is like ordering coffee, isn’t it? I thought, in which case I always tried to keep it simple.

“No whip.”

“Great, fifty lyra.”

“That’s pricey for some hamster juice, I think.”

He laughed nervously, either agreeing or disagreeing with my statement. Thinking about the money spawned it in my hand, and it wasn’t long before I had a cold mug of peanut butter-flavored hamster juice.

“Dang, homie, you’re about to get lifted,” Apollos said as I approached the three. Rob was focused on his orb, while Clovis was now resting on the polished marble floor of the station, open at the spine, his pages bare for all to see.

“We’ll see about that.”

“What flavor?”

“Peanut butter.”

Apollos whistled. “Nice! Haven’t tried that one.”

I brought the hamster juice to my lips, noticing that it had an earthy smell tinged with peanuts. “Just drink it all?”

“Unless you want to savor that shit.”

Rob agreed with Apollos. “Mine tasted like bollocks, but it got me going.”

“In that case, here goes nothing then.”

I drank the entire eight-ounce mug, the effects hitting just about as soon as the warm liquid raced down my throat. Everything slowed for a moment, until I realized that I’d sped up, my words coming so quickly to me that they fumbled out in a smorgasbord of nonsense: “ThisisthecraziestwowIcan’tevenwow!”

Apollos started laughing. “Been there, man, for real, though. Hey, Rob, you got a quest for us yet?”

“QuestquestquestweneedmoneyCloviscomeonlet’sgolet’sgo!”

Hamsterdam spun around me, blurred for a moment, funhouse mirror wild. I kept trying to speak, but every time I opened my mouth the words blew past as if they were being squeezed out of a balloon. Hamster juice was nutzo. And not only was I speaking a mile-a-minute, I felt stronger, like I could run from the police and actually get away; like I could lift the hamster juice stand with one hand; like I could take on those hamster gangsters who had tried to jump us earlier.

I even turned back in the direction of what I thought was Rodentia, my fists now curled at my sides.

“Whoa, look at you about to fight something,” said Apollos. “You know I got your back, man.”

“Cloviscomeonlet’sgotheHamfatherneedstodie!”

Rob placed a steady hand on my shoulder. “Easy, mate. We got a quest now. The token is telling me it is worth a lot of coin.”

“TheHamfatherdeservestodieandI’mtheonethatdeservestokillhim!”

Clovis rose off the ground and turned in my direction, his form suddenly blurry. “What happened to Angel Farts?”

“That’s your nickname?” Apollos asked. “I love that nickname. Makes me want to freestyle, but later, later, once we get this quest going. I ain’t trying to stick around Hamsterdam, I’ll tell you two that much. Rob, lead the way, mate. Randy, just try and stick close to us. Don’t go fighting nothing neither. We got no beef with these bitch-ass hamsters. Not at the moment, anyway.”

“We actually have beef with these bitch-ass hamsters,” Clovis told him, “but it’s with the Hamfather, and it can wait.”

“Hamfather?” Apollos and Rob exchanged glances as I continued to tweak out on hamster juice. “Yeah, whatever you say, fool, whatever you say.”

****

The quest given to us was relatively simple: the youngest son of a rich family living in a mansion easily the size of a department store had gone missing. The butler, a portly hamster with an intense overbite and a holier-than-thou-tone, explained everything as I bounced from heel to heel, the hamster juice lighting a figurative fire under my ass. I was sweating too, and I’d reached the point that I actually removed part of my gnome gear, the piece that served as a protective barrier that sat over my chest sort of like an oversized scarf. I had no idea what it was called, but I wore a white shirt underneath, and that was good enough for the time being.

The words flowing out of my mouth like endless rain into a paper cup had ceased altogether, but I still found myself grinding my teeth, my thoughts numb, my heart fluttering as we set out to find the rich little bastard who went missing. Thankfully, it felt like I was starting to come down.

As I walked, Lily took it upon herself to explain the Hamsterdam layout to Clovis and me again. The park was in the center and it was big, Hamsterdam Park, easy enough. Rodentia was to the north, Curtacus to the south, Gansu to the east and Sungorus, the seedier part of the city, was to the west.

Sungorus was where our missing hamster teenager had disappeared to, something that Rob the dragonkin summed up quite nicely in his cool-sounding Scottish accent: “We’ll get to the shitehole, fight whoever looks at us funny, wring this kid’s neck for running out on his family, and try to get him back here in no more than one piece. Probably some low-level wankers hoping to get some hostage money out of the kid. Should be a good time, regardless, a night out with the boys at worst.”

Hamsterdam spun around me, the city swirling with light and activity as we took a train to Sungorus. I barely remembered even getting on the train, or the conversations that were had, but I did notice a strange sense of dread come once the doors opened, like I could read the energy of the district. I thought about using my tracking power to find our target, but I figured I’d let the others lead for now while my brain cooled off.

“Welcome to Sungorus, aka the hood,” said Apollos the rapping bird bard. “Let’s see what we can get into, shake some shit loose.”

My vision stabilized, an all too familiar sight coming to me. Many of the buildings outside the station were abandoned, painted with art and what I assumed were hamster gang signs. There were homeless hamsters living in ramshackle tents, and while it was certainly rough around the edges, there were also artist types moving about, identifiable in the way they dressed, most sipping from small cups of hamster juice, all of it reminding me of some of the grittier sides of downtown Portland.

“This doesn’t seem so bad,” said Clovis, which elicited a snort from both Rob and Apollos.

“You’re a wee bit too hopeful.” Rob whipped at some garbage with his dragon tail. Juice cups and wrappers spilled into the streets. He approached a younger hamster wearing a fedora, his dark clothing disheveled, hands jittery. “I’ve got a question for ya, lad.”

“Best stuff? Head to the Red Zone.” The juiced-out youth pointed at one of the larger buildings, one clearly filled with squatters based on the hamsters gathered around it, a few passed out, others rummaging through their items.

“We’re looking for someone.” Rob casually withdrew his multi-tipped and heavily serrated custom-sword. He pointed it at the hamster. “Looking for one that goes by the name Hop.” He glanced back at Apollos. “Name was Hop, right?”

The hamster he’d been interrogating passed out.

“Hop, that’s the name. But… it looks like we’ll need to find another tweaker.”

“Hold on, are we supposed to be threatening hamsters?” Clovis asked, the spellbook perking up. “Because if so, I’m pretty good at that.”

Apollos gestured toward some of the juiced-out hamsters. “Then get you some, little man. The quicker we get through the quest, the quicker we can find a place to rest for the night. I’ve been grinding since early this morning. I’m done for the day, done.”

Rob sheathed his weird sword. “He said to check the Red Zone, just past that building there. Worth a shot.”

“Are you still feeling like a cokehead?” Clovis asked me as Rob took the lead, Apollos behind him.

“Feeling a little better now,” I said, gritting my teeth. “Remind me not to try any more hamster juice. It hits hard and fast, but the come down… ugh. It’s terrible, Clovers.” I shakily summoned one of the snack packs we’d purchased from Doyle in the Endless Desert. Not only was I hungry, it gave me something to munch on as we weaved through the streets, hostile hamsters constantly on the periphery.

It was obvious that we weren’t welcome here. We’d already received a few dirty looks, and an occasional comment, most of which Rob or Apollos had handled. Things seemed dire as we reached the Red Zone, which was the name of a series of shanty dwellings all joined together with loose cord and repurposed building materials. I expected hamsters, the same kind we’d run into back at the restaurant in Rodentia. What I found instead was a white llama standing at the entrance of the Red Zone, the llama’s white hair with red stains on it as if it had bathed in hamster juice.

“Oh, fuck no…” I mumbled.

Clovis tilted forward, as if he were squinting. “Wait a minute, I’d recognize that llama anywhere!”

“For heaven’s sake…” Rob threw his hands into the air. Apollos huffed beside him, the bardly rapper not excited either.

Apparently, Drozard’s reputation preceded him.

“Ascendants!” said the llama as he offered us a yellow-toothed grin. “I believe you know what time it is?”

There was a part of me that wanted to say Tool Time, but I figured no one would get that reference. Besides that, my head was still fuzzy from the hamster juice, my normal penchant for banter wavering at the moment.

“Time for a challenge?” Clovis asked, as if he were excited.

“That’s right, Clovis! And you are lucky to join forces on this one, because you’re going to need all the help you can get. Just let me adjust the battlefield…”

Drozard continued to grin as the ground in front of us pinched together and began to stretch. Everything that was once in front of us was now on the periphery, leaving us ample room for the fight to come. “Your challenge is simple. Defeat the opponent I have conjured for you.”

“What’s in it for us?” I asked.

“There are two prizes to be distributed if you win. One guild will receive the ruby Hamster Coins necessary to move to the next floor. The other guild will receive a pair of levels.”

“And how will that be decided?” Rob asked.

“You will find out soon enough. Allow me to introduce you to one of my many creations, Megakaren.”

The llama stepped aside, and as he did a portal opened. An enormous kaiju homunculus, one wearing thick armor that barely covered the additional weight hanging from its waist. Its face had an X for a mouth and a pair of Os for eyes. For a split second, I thought this was some kind of joke, but then the kaiju homunculus took a staggering step forward.

Megakaren, Level 10.

Predictably, Drozard was now gone, leaving the four of us standing in front of our opponent, Megakaren easily forty feet tall. The beastly homunculus started to scowl at us, and as it did its mouth spilled open, dozens upon dozens of honey badgers falling out.

****

“We’ve got company, lads!” Rob said as he flourished both his blades.

Like any good gamer, I’d fought my fair share of honey badgers in Far Cry 4, but these badgers were on a different level, about twice the size as their earthly counterparts and faster too. I hit the Rage button just about as soon as I could, mainly to put some distance between myself and the swarm of badgers.

Axl Rose in my hand, I swung at the first one to leap toward me and managed to rearrange its face. I saw Rob Blastforge doing the same with his two swords, the skilled warrior cutting into the crowd of rabid honey badgers like someone trying to skip the line at a Black Friday sale.

I didn’t want to use all my Rage, and luckily, thinking about it shut my Barbarian ability down, giving me 4 MP left to summon it if necessary.

“Arghhh!” I blurted out as a honey badger clamped down onto my arm, its teeth instantly drawing blood. I tried to bat it away, and as I did I spotted Clovis cutting into the crowd of enemies, his puny energy hand wielding the blunt sword he’d once taken off a kobold.

Inspired by my guildmate, I punched the honey badger in the face and then got to hacking as soon as it hit the ground. Another jumped at me; I managed to block it with the handle of my axe, which gave my Absorb ability a charge.

The Megakaren opened its mouth again, more honey badgers spewing out of the kaiju homunculus, falling to the ground, and climbing over on another to get to us.

“To the death!” Rob shouted as he charged to meet them head-on.

Calling it a second wind would be an understatement. It was like I had hit the hamster juice again, only this time I knew exactly what I was doing, totally in control. I charged toward the new batch of badgers with Rob, Clovis doing the same, the spellbook firing off magic missiles left and right.

I wanted to shout something like “This is Sparta!”, but refrained from doing so as I proceeded to kick some serious honey badger ass. Teeth, blood, guts, eyeballs, claws, whiskers—everything hit the air around us as Rob and I hacked in unison, Clovis playing his part as well, all of us moving in an orchestrated way.

And then I realized why.

Apollos was on the periphery of the battle, moving his head left and right as he spat what I assumed were hot bars. He was a bard, a rapping avian bard to be exact, and he was using his power to amplify our own abilities. That explained my sudden boost.

Part of me truly wanted to savor the moment, every move calculated, no misses, no more stray bites from honey badgers, sheer butchery, but I was so focused that I wasn’t able to do something like take a mental screenshot.

All I could do was slay.

“Kill their mother!” Rob shouted, his sword raised into the air.

“I don’t give a McShit! Get got, honey badgers!”

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAMMMMMMMMMMM!

Clovis blasted the kaiju homunculus with an epic gamma ray burst, the towering figure falling to a knee. The Megakaren roared in anger as Rob and I rallied, the two of us nearly at the point where we could do something superheroesque, like jump into the air and stab the clay monstrosity in the face, when the ground began to rumble.

Whoooommmm!

An explosion sent all of us flying backward, dust twisting up into the air.

I got to my feet, my first concern being Clovis, who was splayed out on his back. I rushed to the spellbook: “Are you okay? Clovis, talk to me!”

“So… so that’s what an explosion feels like…” He coughed, a puff of dust excreting from the center of his form.

“Apollos?” I yelled into the debris that was settling.

His voice came from somewhere behind me. “Shit, man, I was just getting into the zone…”

“Rob?”

“Ah, bloody hell. What now?”

I looked back to where the Megakaren had just been to find an even larger version, one with the head of a honey badger, a blonde wig obscuring its clay face, its armor now serrated and reinforced. Not only that, there was something robotic about the way it moved now.

Mechakaren, Level 15.

As if one of the Hungry Hippos and Pac-Man had a homunculus baby with a honey badger, our leveled-up opponent spilled forward and began chomping into the ground, shredding up the soil. As it did so, Mechakaren snorted out honey badgers from its nostrils. The ornery little badgers flew in every direction, yet always seemed to land on their feet.

“Fuck!” I shouted, because there really was no better curse word, in fiction or in real life, to describe what we were experiencing.

Instinct hit me and I summoned my Paper Talisman Token, which conjured dozens of paper cranes, all of which took off like a squadron of F-22 Raptors toward the Mechakaren.

The sudden shock subsided, our resident rapping bard’s spell working to unite all of us. Soon, Rob Blastforge sliced and diced through badgers like some sort of deranged morning assassin; Clovis spat Magic Missiles like an enraged camel; and the Four Loko Mad Lad himself spun around with Axl Rose as if he were a well-trained wildling, honey badgers dying left and right, the air reeking of their blood.

It seemed like the Mechakaren’s supply of ravenous honey badgers was endless, yet I knew the kaiju homunculus had to be using MP to vomit up honey badgers, and if that was a case, there had to be a limit.

“For glory!” The Scottish bladesdragon kneed into one of the badgers and used it as a springboard to launch himself at the Mechakaren. Another honey badger jumped into the air and collided with him, the two going down just as the Mechakaren conjured its next power. Our opponent reared up, the beam of energy that emitted from its mouth killing many of its own creations. The red energy sprayed over my head, and nearly cut Clovis down, definitely singeing a few pages.

I felt a sudden shift in my chest, my focus waning, the terror I should be experiencing coming to me in a painful flash as my heart skipped a few beats. What just happened?

“Apollos!”

Rob’s shout caused me to look back and see that the rapping bird bard had been ripped in half by the beam of energy, thus stopping his bard powers. The ascendant was twisted in the dirt, his blood and intestines casting a shock of red against the dirty pavement that caused me to tense up.

Fear subsided, followed by true anger as I doubled down and refocused my strategy to clear out the honey badgers on my way to the mini-boss.

The Mechakaren had to die.

I juiced myself up on Rage and surged forward. If you’re picturing my post hamster juice writerly ass hacking away at honey badgers like someone had wound me up and set me loose, you wouldn’t be far off, Axl Rose a blur in front of me as I beat them back with a mad fervor. I ignored their claws, their teeth, the murderous looks in their eyes, my rapidly declining health bar, all of it.

And I wasn’t the only one.

Rob and Clovis had also gotten into the swing of things in a very literal way, the dragonkin moving like a ballerina raised by an assassin, Clovis like a monster truck tire rolling down a steep hill as the spellbook slammed into anything it came into contact with, as the three of us desperately trying to reach the Mechakaren before it could charge up again.

The Scottish swordsman was the first to get there. Sprays of honey badger blood and what was left of the paper cranes I’d unleashed swelled around Rob as he landed directly in front of our enormous opponent. “I’ll kill ya!” he shouted. The Scot hit the air like he’d jumped off a trampoline. He landed on the homunculus’ shoulder and began hacking away at its face, even as the badger-faced monstrosity tried to whip him off.

There had to be a better way.

Whack!

Another axe-to-honeybadger headshot reminded me of what was at stake. It also reminded me of how much stronger I was in Genera compared to the real world, power given to me by not only my stats but also the pinky ring I wore and the Hamsterdamaniam glove I’d taken off Rune. This got me thinking—which is somehow possible in an all-out brawl with honey badgers and a Mechakaren—What would Rune have done? How do we kill this thing?

I had a Potion of Invulnerability Token, and I could always fire off more paper cranes, but the cranes weren’t as useful here, and I wanted to save the potion for whatever came at us next. There was also my Sneezing Powder Token, which up until this point I thought would be absolutely useless, unless…

Let’s try door number two, I thought as I felt the last bit of my Rage leaving me. Had it already been that long? I needed a damn countdown timer! Thinking of a timer caused my health bar to flash, followed by Clovis’, both of us pushing into the red.

We would be royally screwed if the Mechakaren opened its mouth again and hit the battlefield with its laser breath, or whatever it had spewed at us earlier, resulting in Apollos’ death. To make matters more dire, it seemed to be on the cusp of doing so, the kaiju homunculus ignoring Rob and his two swords as it slowly began to prepare its laser.

It was now or never.

“Sneezing Powder!” I shouted, even though it wasn’t something activated by a command. It was more instinctual than that, yet this seemed to do the trick as I threw my hand forward, the Sneezing Powder Token appearing as a ball, which I was able to lob into the Mechakaren’s open mouth.

The results were instant.

The Mechakaren began to sneeze repeatedly, which had a way of blasting Rob off its body, and sending Clovis and me twisting backward. I collided with a clump of dead honey badgers just in time to witness something that would have felt more appropriate in a low-budget horror flick, especially with the way it looked. As if it had been rendered in claymation, the Mechakaren exploded, bits and pieces of its body (and its honey badgers) landing everywhere around me.

Reality began to warp around us.

We had won the challenge, but lost an ascendant in the process.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Hop, the Teenage Drug-Dealing Hamster

Clovis, Rob Blastforge, and the Mad Lad were suddenly back in the Sungorus borough of Hamsterdam, in front of the place known as the Red Zone. Standing before us was Drozard in his llama form, the wizard currently munching on a leaf.

“You’ve done it, ascendants. Congratulations!”

“I’ll kill ya! I’ll bloody kill ya!” Rob rushed forward, my natural instinct being to stop him from all out attacking Drozard. “That was me guildmate, ya arsepiece! Bloody numpty!”

“What language is he speaking?” Clovis asked me, as I continued to hold Rob back.

Drozard’s smile remained on his face. “Yes, about Apollos, it was rather unfortunate that he passed during this challenge. It has happened before, recently, mind you, and I’m afraid it will happen again. Genera is not a forgiving place, and any one of you can die in an instant. But there is always a way to remedy the situation.”

“Remedy? What are ya goin’ on about now?” Rob asked, spit flying from his mouth.

“You will find out about that at a later date. Now…” The llama swallowed the bit of leaf he had been chewing on. “It’s time to dish out the rewards. Since Apollos had formed an alliance with you, Rob, the items in his inventory list have been transferred to yours. With that out of the way, we have two rewards, one being the exact number of Hamster Coins needed to ascend to the fourth floor, and the other being levels. Not bad, eh? Are you ready to see which you shall receive?”

“Just get on with it,” said Rob, now dejected, as if he had hit an invisible wall.

“I will make this easy for you,” said Drozard. “Rob will get a guess, and Randy and Clovis will get a guess. Now, listen closely: I’m thinking of a number between one and twenty-five—”

“Twenty-five!” Clovis blurted out.

What? Before I could curse at the spellbook, Drozard continued.

“Okay, twenty-five. You and Randy have chosen twenty-five. What about you, Rob? Whoever is closer to the number I’m thinking of wins.”

Rob cleared his throat and finally spoke with just a hint of hesitation: “Sorry to do this to ya, mates. Twenty-four.”

“The number I was thinking of was twenty-two. Rob Blastforge wins the Hamster Coins necessary to ascend. Randy and Clovis get levels.” The llama smiled, and as he did glitter rained down from the sky.

It was hard to get angry at Clovis, but what he had just done had royally screwed us. Who knows what we would have guessed if he hadn’t blurted out an answer. By selecting one extreme, he’d set us up for failure, which meant we were going to have to continue taking side quests in Hamsterdam if we hoped to reach the next floor.

Not only that, we had a time limit.

I would have said something to him had it not been for the onslaught of text that followed, the gameshow host’s voice letting me know I’d leveled up.

Points!

You have gained a level!

+1 Intelligence!

+2 Strength!

+3 Skill Points!

Race: Human

Class: Barbarian

Name: Randy Lionheart

Level: 7

Tier: Fresh Meat

HP: 25/25

MP: 6/6

Intelligence: 11

Perception: 8

Stamina: 16

Strength: 22

Dexterity: 15

Defense: 13

Health Regen: 15% per hour

MP Regen: 20% per hour

Skill Points: 4

Armor: Basic Gnome Wear, Elven Jock Strap

Weapons: Axl Rose

Accessories: Pinky Ring, Hamsterdamian Metal Glove, Hamster Beanie

“We got levels,” Clovis said, the spellbook clearly not aware of how disappointed I was in the choice he’d made. “I’m leveling up my Magic Missile power. That’s a good one!”

I took a brief look at Clovis’ stat sheet. He still hadn’t gotten any smarter, but his defense had grown, and his MP regen had increased by five percent.

Silver lining? Something like that.

Something like that.

“I’d give ya the ruby Hamster Coins I have left, but that wanker of a llama only gave me what I needed to reach one hundred. We were already at ninety. If he’d given me more than ten, they would have been yours.” Rob offered us a sad smile. “I’m sorry to do this to ya, but I guess I should be moving on. The wee hamster we were looking for should be somewhere in there,” he said, gesturing toward the Red Zone. “The filthy little bastard comes from money. Maybe you can do something like take him hostage and ask for more coin.”

“Take someone hostage?” asked Clovis. “Like in the movies?”

“Sure, like the movies, wee one. Anyway, that’s what I would do.” The dragonkin bumped fists with me. “Good luck. I’ll be seeing ya on the next floor, I’m sure.”

****

Rob Blastforge was gone, leaving the two of us in desperate need of some Hamster Coins and with only one option: find the teen hamster named Hop.

I turned to the spellbook. “You do realize you screwed us back there, right? You should have guessed a safe number in the middle, but you had to pick twenty-five. Why? I just want to know why. Surely, you knew that there were other numbers that would have been better choices.”

“Twenty-five used to be my lucky number.”

Of course, it did, I thought, trying not to roll my eyes at the spellbook. “Next time we have to deal with Drozard, let’s try to consult with each other before we act,” I told him, not hoping to escalate my statements into an argument. Clovis was difficult to deal with, and he would probably do even stupider things in the future. But he was literally all I had in Genera, he trusted me even, and if he could ever get his shit together, he’d be one hell of a guildmate, especially as he grew to better understand his magical powers.

I just needed patience.

And maybe prayer.

“Do you think we’ll see Drizzy soon?” he asked, referring to Drozard’s counterpart.

“Couldn’t tell you, but for our sake, I truly hope not.” I went ahead and aimed a pair of middle fingers at the sky. “And to any elite ascendants watching now, these are for you.”

“Yeah, we don’t give McShits,” Clovis said, and sure enough, an arm made of energy lifted from his form. Once a hand had formed, Clovis also flipped off the elite ascendants. “Get got, butt clowns.”

“That’s right,” I said, feeling emboldened, and perhaps I would have talked some more shit had it not been for movement in my periphery. Standing beside me was a teenage hamster with his yellow hair raised at both sides as if he was auditioning for a Flock of Seagulls cover band.

“Whoa, guys, let’s bring it down a notch,” came a cool, yet youthful voice. “I got something that could take that edge off, or better, sharpen that edge right up.”

“Don’t say hamster juice,” I told him as I brought both my hands down.

“Hamster juice is for rodents. This shit…” The younger hamster produced a bag of substance and flicked it. Since it was made out of a burlap material, I couldn’t see what was inside, but I got the sense that it was in powder form. “This is the real deal, straight from New Hamsterdam.”

“We don’t want any hamster narcotics,” I told him, which wasn’t a sentence I ever thought I’d say.

“Old timer needs his juicy-juice, huh? Can’t try it the new way? Would that be too radical?”

I squinted at the hamster. “Old timer?”

Clovis spoke for me. “You’re definitely an old timer, Angel Farts—thought I’d use a code name. I mean, you’re like twenty years older than me.”

“Late thirties is not old time anything!” I told the spellbook.

“I thought you were in your forties…”

“Same difference. All right, Dr. Feelgood,” I told the drug-dealing teenage hamster, “you can go ahead and move along. We’re looking for someone.”

“Looking for someone, huh?” He shrugged. “Maybe I know who that someone might be. Maybe if you take a little taste, just a dime bag, we’ll see if we can’t find whoever it is you’re looking for. Got a few ladies you might like to meet as well, if you got the coin.”

“What? No. We don’t want hamster prostitutes.”

“Hey, no one said anything about prostitution…”

“Do you know Hop?” Clovis asked the drug dealer. “And second question: he isn’t a prostitute, is he? Because if he is, I support that choice as long as he is of age.”

The youthful hamster went pale. “Did… did you say Hop?”

Clovis glowed with energy as he responded: “Yeah, Hop. That’s who we’re out here looking for. I think Rob called this place a shitehole. I’d have to agree. Hop’s parents—or his butler? I don’t know—sent us to find him. We had to fight a bunch of honey badgers and megakarens, but we did that, and now we need to find Hop.”

It struck me at that moment, my intelligence and perception stats seemingly working in tangent. “Wait a damn minute. You’re Hop, aren’t you?”

“How… how did you know?” the teenage hamster asked, his voice pitching up a hair. He started to turn, and as he did I quickly placed my hand on his shoulder. “So you’re dealing drugs, is it?”

“Sir! Please, of course I’m not dealing drugs. I was just here on my nightly walk. I don’t know why my family sent you to find me but…” Hop regained his composure in an instant, a grin taking shape on his face. “How much did they offer you?”

“I thought we were going to take him hostage,” Clovis said.

“What?” The teenage hamster tried to pull away from me, but I held tight.

“Quiet, Clovers. Nothing is going to happen to you,” I told Hop, “but we are taking you back to your family.”

The teenage hamster whipped free from my grip, and was just about to bolt when Clovis fired off a magic missile. It hit a sign, started a small fire, and caused a couple of doped-up hamsters to scatter away, shitting themselves in the process. “You are coming with us,” the spellbook said with finality. “Or I start blowing things up.”

“Whoa, whoa!” A grin flashed across Hop’s face. “Hold up. What did my family offer you exactly? I’ll double it. Double it!”

“What were we offered?” Clovis asked me.

“Fifty ruby Hamster Coins,” I lied.

“Really? That much? I could have sworn Rob said it was less.”

“Yes, Clovis,” I said through gritted teeth, “they offered us fifty ruby Hamster Coins.”

Rob had been the one handling the quest and I (stupidly) had no idea what the reward was going to be.

“Fifty ruby Hamster Coins, huh?” Hop glanced up, as if he were doing the math in his head.

“You said you could double it,” I reminded him.

“Double? I could triple it if I wanted. That’s nothing. I’ve got way over a hundred owed to me; should be here by the morning. Look, I’ll tell you guys what, hang tight tonight, and I’ll get you the coins in the morning. How’s that? And you know what? I’ll sweeten the pot. I’ve got a real cool place for you to stay. Sungorus may be a shithole to some, but it has some of the best private hotel suites in all of Hamsterdam.”

“This place? The Red Zone?” I asked. I’d just seen a hamster with his pants down come stumbling out of a darkened corner, trip on his own feet, curse at his fist, kiss his fist, and then punch himself in the face. It was the last place I wanted to spend the night, well, that and a gnome dungeon.

“Here? Hell no. But I’ve got the hook up, don’t you worry.”

“Time out,” Clovis said as he floated between the two of us. “Hop. Will you give us a moment? And don’t go too far…” Turquoise energy flared around the spellbook, indicating he meant business.

“Sure, sure, book, I’ll just be right here.”

Once he’d stepped away, Clovis shifted as if he were looking directly at me: “Maybe we should just turn him into his butler.”

“Maybe. That said, he’s clearly a degenerate—”

“—I heard that!”

I lowered my voice. “Like I was saying, he’s clearly a degenerate little piece of shit trust fund kid who will likely be back on the streets tomorrow selling hamster crack, or whatever he’s selling.”

“He claimed it was better than hamster juice.”

“That is beside the point, Clovers. If he can get us the coins, we can ascend and be done with Hamsterdam for the time being. Don’t you want to get out there and start adventuring again? Leveling? Exploring interesting places? I’d much rather be doing that than looking after someone’s spoiled, drug-dealing future convict. We’re losing the narrative here. We’re supposed to be getting stronger and sure, we just got levels, but babysitting was not what I signed up for.”

“I had a crush on my babysitter.”

“I’m sure you did. Focus, Clovis.”

“So we go with him?”

I nodded slowly. “Sure. We go with Hop, and we keep a very watchful eye on the little fucker in the process. We cannot get screwed over this time, Clovis. We need to start losing less, and winning more.”

“I still think it would be safer just to turn him into his family…”

“But we don’t know what the reward for that would be, which is entirely my fault for not getting the info from Rob or Apollos.”

“I miss Apollos already. He had some really good rhymes.”

“I didn’t hear most of his barding, but I certainly felt it,” I said as I motioned for Hop to come over to us.

“Well?” he asked, the teenage hamster quickly hiding a toothy grin.

“We’ll rest wherever you’d like tonight, but you’re staying there with us, and if you try anything, not only will we cut off your tail, we’ll tell your parents what it is you have been doing out here in Sungorus. I’m sure they’d love to find that part out.”

Hop nodded enthusiastically. “Sure! You’ve got it. I promise this will be worth it, and you’ll love the room too. I could, maybe, get us some entertainment, if you get what I’m saying. I know a couple hot-ass sows, like I was saying earlier.”

“Sows? Do you mean female hamsters?”

He laughed at Clovis’ question. “Weird way to say that. Look, um, Angel Farts…”

I gave Clovis a dirty look for telling Hop my pen name.

“If you want some dudes, if that is your thing, I could arrange that too—”

“Absolutely not,” I told the youthful hamster with a firm head shake. “There will be no hamster sex tonight. Not on my watch. And don’t forget, Hop, you’re on thin ice over here. Fuck this up, and daddy and mommy hamster will find out what it is you’ve been up to.”

“Plus you’ll hack off my tail. I got it. Also, why do you keep referring to me as a hamster? You’re a hamster too.”

I shrugged his question off. “It’s just a figure of speech. Let’s get going. This place sucks.”

****

I was pleasantly surprised to see that the sector that Hop the drug-dealing teenage hamster led us to wasn’t half bad. The art on the buildings was really cool and reminded me of Alberta Arts District, featuring all sorts of multicolored hamsters getting down in something that really gave off Keith Haring vibes. There were food trucks; quaint, fair-trade hamster juice bars; shopping—it was a real treat.

But I was also way too exhausted to want to explore it. I’d started the day in a desert (yes, this was still the same day) and was ready to crash hard.

With this in mind, we skipped any extracurricular activities as Hop guided us to a boutique hotel, the teenager speaking briefly to a brindle female hamster with messy hair, who subsequently gave him the key to the suite on the top floor.

“How do you know about this place again?” I asked as he led us up a flight of stairs, the hamster dropping onto all fours to travel faster.

“My family owns it. Been sneaking away here for years, back before I was, you know, in the game.”

“He means dealing drugs,” Clovis told me under his breath.

“I know what he means.”

The suite at the top was both sweet and at the top. The room took up the entire top floor, parts of it partitioned off by moveable wooden walls. There was a king-hamster-sized bed, as well as a sofa and two eating areas, one near a kitchen and the other on a balcony. Everything seemed premium and well-thought out, the bed just about as comfortable as a bed could be once I sat down on it.

I was ready for some Zs, but much to my dismay, Clovis had started in again with Hop.

“So your family owns this hotel, but you sell drugs? Why don’t you just stick to the hotel business?”

The teenage hamster laughed at this question as if Clovis should have already known the answer. “This is just a boutique hotel my uncle bought. Most of his real estate is in Rodentia.”

“Then what do your parents do?”

“My dad mostly curates hamster juice for private collections; my mom works for Hamlet Enterprises.”

“So the mafia?” I asked. “You’re part of the mafia.”

Hop grew silent, the teenage hamster now seated on the sofa across from the bed, near a fireplace with a pane of glass in front of it. “There is no mafia in Hamsterdam.”

“We literally had a run-in with the Hamfather,” I said.

“The Hamfather? Never heard of him. There are just successful businessmen, and sometimes, they work together. One may have the nickname ‘The Hamfather,’ but this doesn’t mean anything.”

I yawned. “A likely story.”

“You can sleep for a while, and I’ll keep an eye on him,” Clovis volunteered, the spellbook now hovering near me.

“You sure?”

“I’m not going anywhere, guys, I promise,” Hop said. “Sure, it’s weird that a teenage hamster such as myself is staying in a hotel room with an old timer and a busted Avarial spellbook, and sure, if you just trusted me, I would have the coin you need dropped off in the morning. But I get your distrust, and I can stay here. It’s just odd, that’s all.”

“Just stay over there,” I told him in a thin voice. “And Clovis? Sure, you take the first shift. I’ll take the second. Do not let him leave that couch.”

“What about if he has to poop?”

“Yeah, what if I have to poop?”

“Clovis, don’t make me regret giving you this assignment,” I told the spellbook.

I kicked off my boots, instantly able to get comfortable on the soft bed. Sleep overcame me before I could tell Clovis or Hop anything else, the day finally catching up as exhaustion took over. It was a good rest, and I wasn’t exactly stoked to be woken up by the spellbook a few hours later.

“Wh-wha?” I asked as Clovis nudged me.

“It’s my turn to sleep. It’s been a long time and the sun is almost coming up. I think.”

I glanced to the balcony to see that the sky was a strange light-purple color. Had it really been that long?

“You’re right,” I told him on the tail end of a yawn. “And you did well.” Sure enough, Hop was now sleeping on the sofa across from the bed, the teenage hamster’s tongue slightly hanging out of his mouth as he snoozed. “The bed is all yours.”

Once I let Clovis take my place, I found a seat at the end of the bed, my elbows now on my knees. For a while I simply stared at the carpeted floor. When that started to make me feel tired, I moved to the balcony to find that much of the district of Sungorus was awake. It was quiet, but there were still hamsters moving about, the occasional wheel going by, and a junkie or two tossing and turning in whatever they could find to cover themselves.

I returned to the bed and took my seat again, my eyes falling on the sleeping hamster across from me. Hop looked so peaceful. Seeing him rest, and hearing Clovis start to snore eventually got the best of me. I was out again, sleeping on the ground, cuddling one of my boots, apparently. At least that was what I discovered when I woke up several hours later.

“Um… Randy?”

“Wha?” I sat up instantly to find Clovis hovering in the place where Hop had been the last time I’d seen him. “Don’t tell me…” I felt something drop in my chest. This was entirely my fault.

“Hop escaped. But he left us some hamster crack.”

My eyes darted to a bag of crystalized hamster juice on the table along with a note. I grabbed the note and read it aloud: “‘Sorry, guys, I had to bail. I don’t quite have the Hamster Coins you want anymore, but if you sell this, you should be able to get a hundred ruby coins easy. It was nice meeting you both. And don’t worry, the room is covered. Order some breakfast if you’d like.’” I looked up to Clovis. “I really really dropped the ball on this one.”

He shrugged, a page nearly fluttering out of him. “It’s okay. At least we got a nice room out of it, and some breakfast. Hopefully some of their offerings will be gluten-free. Maybe we should order as much as we can to the room just to get even with Hop.”

“That’s… that’s not a bad idea.” I had just added the Crystalized Hamster Juice Token to my list when I heard a knock at the door.

“Maybe it’s room service?” Clovis asked, but once I approached the door and saw glitter coming in through the bottom opening I knew better.

“Can I help you?” I asked through the door.

“You sure can’t, but maybe I can help you,” came a female voice. “It’s Drizzy, and I’m here with a challenge. Won’t you let me in?”

Chapter Twenty-Six: One Act Slay

Drizzy’s robes seemed just as unkempt as they had the last time I’d seen her, the woman’s thick blonde dreads swept back into a disheveled ponytail tied off with a silver ribbon. I noticed more about her now that I could see in different light, her eyes a pale blue like Drozard’s, the wizardess thin to the point she was bony, a slight hook to her nose.

“I brought breakfast,” she said, a grin forming on her face and revealing her slightly crooked teeth. One puff of glitter later and there was suddenly a silver tray on the table with all my favorite breakfast fixings.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember what it was like last time we were gifted breakfast,” I told her, referring to the tasteless food given to me through Drozard back on the first floor. “Elite ascendants, right?”

“This isn’t that, Randy, I assure you.” Drizzy stepped forward, looped an arm in mine, and turned me around. The wizardess led me to the table and instructed me to sit; as she moved away, I noticed a faint vanilla smell on her skin, something mixed with patchouli that reminded me of Seattle hippies. She sat across from me, and as he had done numerous times before, Clovis floated over to Drizzy, the spellbook tipping to some degree as he examined her.

“You sort of look like Gwyneth Paltrow,” the spellbook finally told her, “if she’d had a different father.”

I stopped shy of drinking the cup of coffee I had just lifted to my lips. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“It means she sort of looks like her, but there are some differences as well, likely because of her father, Bruce.”

“Moving on…” I went ahead and took a suspicious sip of the coffee to find that it was actually coffee. The slight bitter flavor, hints of hazelnut, a deep aroma. This was it. This was what my life had been missing. “It’s real food.”

And as soon as those words left my lips, I dug in.

I shoveled biscuits and gravy into my mouth, the helpings reminding me of a great Lincoln City restaurant known as the Otis Cafe. I chugged coffee, ate a morning bun, and continued to ignore both Clovis and Drizzy as I stuffed my face.

“That was amazing, amazing!” I said once I’d finished, maple syrup dripping from my beard. Or honey. Or both. I wiped my face with my arm and realized that they had been talking the entire time. “Sorry, what did I miss?”

“Ah, so he’s back,” said Drizzy, still with the mischievous smile on her face. “I’m guessing that breakfast was good.”

“Spec-fucking-tacular.”

“Good to hear, ascendant. I was just telling Clovis about the challenge I have lined up for the two of you.”

My spirits sank to some degree. I didn’t need Lily to remind me we had two days to ascend to the Second Realm. We were currently in Hamsterdam, on the third floor, meaning that there were two more floors to go if we could even reach the next floor.

“It is up to you whether your guild would like to take the challenge or not. If you do well, you will instantly be rewarded one hundred ruby Hamster Coins, which will allow you to ascend to the next floor and skip the side quests you will need to complete in order to pass this floor.” Drizzy placed her elbows on the table and rested her head in her palms. “I can see that Hamsterdam has been a bit trying for the two of you, which is to be expected. It’s not uncommon for ascendants to get stuck on this floor, which is why a few elite ascendants have pooled their resources together to offer the challenge I’m set to present to you.”

“What’s the challenge?”

“I kept asking the same question and she wouldn’t tell me,” said Clovis.

“Ah, it’s that sort of thing. I get it, I get it: we go into the challenge blind, and if we complete it, we get the Hamster Coins that we need. Or, we simply take side quests—a sort of safer bet—and try to ascend on our own, which will take longer.”

The wizardess nodded. “Precisely.”

“We could always become drug dealers,” Clovis suggested.

I pictured myself trying to sling hamster narcotics in Sungorus and kept coming up with images that reminded me of The Wire, with Clovis of course, who would only make dealing drugs that much harder. It hurt to sigh, mostly because I was so full, yet I sighed anyway, realizing what was about to happen here.

It was inevitable.

“Sure. We’ll take the challenge.”

“Great! I was hoping you’d say that. Close your eyes,” Drizzy said as bits of sparkling confetti started to lift from the ground. “It’s time to go to the theater!”

****

Glitterbombs, an extreme burst of swirled hues, a shift in my stomach—we’d fast traveled before by this point, but that was nothing compared to the way that Drizzy had transported us. It was like being shot out of a rocket launcher through a rave. Our bodies reformed, and as they did I tried to better understand where we were. Drizzy had said it was a theater, which could mean anything, but it was clearly backstage, and by the sounds that instantly met my ears, I could tell there was an audience on the other side of a set of red velvet curtains.

Clovis instantly perked up. “Another comedy show? I’ve been working on my observational humor, you know, refining my stop sign jokes, among other things.”

Drizzy maintained the smile on her face, but I could tell it had wavered to some degree at the mention of Clovis’ comedy routine. “Not a comedy show per se, but there could be comedy involved depending on how you approach it. Your challenge is simple. On the other side of that curtain is an audience full of elves. You will put on a show of your choosing that lasts up to one hour. The only requirement, really, is that your show has to be over seven minutes, and the crowd has to be entertained.”

“A… show?” I asked, instantly feeling a sense of dread.

“Yes, a theater performance. Interpret that any way that you’d like.”

“So we could technically do observation humor?”

“We’re not doing observational humor,” I told Clovis. “We’re trying not to bomb here, remember?”

“Then what kind of show?”

Drizzy placed her hands behind her back. “Ascendants in the past have put on a stage play. Some have performed music as well. I recall a drum circle that didn’t do so well.”

“Stage play…” I said as I ran my hand over my beard. “How long do we have to prepare for it?”

“Forty minutes. You will also get two assistants to help you in whatever act you put on. Would you like to meet them now?”

“Co-actors,” Clovis said cheerfully. “I always wanted to be part of an ensemble cast.”

“Thorgrim, Hargrim…” Two poofs of glitter later and we were met by Thorgrim, the goblin-gnome who thought I’d hooked up with his dungeoncore girlfriend, an instant scowl forming on his face. Hargrim was also a goblin-gnome, in the same bad boy black outfit as Thorgrim, yet much dumber-looking and fatter. He had a droopy left eye and currently picked at his nose, not at all worried about digging for green nuggets in public.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” said Thorgrim, a scowl forming on his face. “I hoped that I’d get partnered with the two of you, and by the grace of His Holiness Willmouth the Marth, my wish has been granted.”

“Wait a minute… you’re the gnome that tried to fight us in the Ogreview Cafe! How’s your girlfriend? She’s a dungeoncore, right?”

Thorgrim pointed a finger at Clovis. “Mock me, will you? Don’t… don’t you talk about my girlfriend!”

“You’re still dating Chelsea, then? That was her name, right?”

“Chelsea, who the holy frick is Chelsea? My girlfriend’s name is Dinnymatt.” Thorgrim turned back to me. “Is that your pet name for her?”

I threw my hands up in the air. “For fuck’s sake, Thorgrim, I didn’t hook up with your girlfriend. I’m not into dungeoncores.”

“Not into dungeoncores? Sounds racist to me.”

It was hard not to roll my eyes at the gnome, who was pissed to the point that he’d removed his black conical hat and had started to wring it out. “Can we get different gnomes?” I asked Drizzy.

“Goblins,” Clovis said, correcting me. “Or gnoblins. That works too.”

“Different gnomes? What’s wrong with the pair of us?” asked Hargrim. “We’re not talented enough for you, or something? And what’s with the hamster hat? No one will believe that you are a hamster, not with that ugly face of yours. You shouldn’t try to be something you’re not.”

“It’s certainly cultural appropriation, I have to agree with Hargrim there,” said Clovis. “But you’re used to that sort of thing with your Kung Fu Fable series.”

“We’re supposed to be on the same side,” I started to tell the spellbook until we were interrupted by Drizzy.

“The thirty minutes you have to prepare a performance begins… Now! Good luck, you two!” And with that, Drizzy fizzled out, leaving behind a small pile of glitter on the ground.

A timer appeared just beneath our health bars, only adding to the pressure I now felt to knock something out.

With my chosen profession of genre fiction writer, I should have been able to cobble together a story to present to an audience in a short amount of time. I’d been doing this long enough that stories came naturally to me, to the point that it was almost uncanny. But this was a new kind of pressure, one that I wasn’t prepared for.

A serious deadline. Not only that, a different medium.

If we messed this up, it would be back to the drawing board, and since we had a pair of gnoblins who would likely thwart us, it would be doubly difficult to pull this off.

Clovis turned to me, specks of turquoise energy oscillating around him. “Okay, Angel Farts, ready to write your first play?”

“Randy, the noun not the adjective. How many times do we need to go over this? And… of course I’m ready.”

“Just think, it’ll be the first play you’ve written. Imagine we’re on Broadway!” Clovis swooped up like he was the star of the show. “On Broadway! You know, one time I visited New York City, and rather than someone saying the classic, ‘I’m walking over here,’ a lady opened the door to her vehicle, vomited, horns honking behind her as she shouted, ‘I’m trying to vomit over here, a-hole!’ Anyway, I just thought that was a great story that you could use for inspiration… on Broadway!”

Thorgrim crossed his arms over his chest. “The book is demented and should be burned; don’t count on us to help you do anything, not until you admit what you did with Dinnymatt. Tell me what happened, and we’ll see if we can’t help out some. But don’t expect a lot of help.”

“Even though we are talented,” Hargrim added.

“Yes, we are. I was raised in the theater,” said Thorgrim with just a little flair. “My mother was a thespian.”

Having had enough of their nonsense, I turned away from the group and walked over to the prop area, where I found a chair. For a moment, I probably looked like The Thinker, my elbow on my knee as I considered what we should do next. There were a number of basic stories that we could act out aside from what Clovis had just suggested, and I could probably come up with something that didn’t involve the two gnoblins, or the spellbook, for that matter. A one-man-show could be well-received, and I certainly had seen enough in my life to tell an entertaining story, but there was another angle here, one that the ancient Greeks would have approved of, something that even Aeschylus himself may have penned.

Yes…

Yes…

I had it!

We would tell the battle against the Mechakaren and the journey leading up to it. I could do some rewrites—no need to try to explain Drozard’s bullshit to the audience—and we could also delete Hop the drug-dealing hamster’s role from the drama and just say we were out adventuring, or better, trying to rid the notorious Red Zone of its vile miscreants.

This could totally work…

I glanced back to Clovis, who floated with the two bastard gnoblins. From what I could tell, they were being cordial enough with the spellbook, Thorgrim’s ire was mostly aimed at me. Even though it pained me to do so, if a faux confession would help, then that would be a bullet I would take to get this show on the road.

I approached them again. “Thorgrim.”

“Are you ready to tell me the truth?” he sneered.

“I sure am. Mattdinny…”

“Dinnymatt. That’s her name. Common dungeon name.”

“Dinnymatt and I, well,” I swallowed what little pride I had, “we were, um, a little more than friends, but not much more.”

He gulped. “Not… much more?”

“I was imprisoned by your people, as you know.”

“Imprisoned for killing one of our tribes. You slaughtered the entire tribe, all the men. You left their children without fathers.”

“That’s really bad, Randy.”

“Quiet, Clovis.”

Thorgrim’s fists tightened at his sides. “Do you think we’d let you off for something like that?”

“They attacked me,” I said, referring to my very first encounter in Genera.

“A likely story. We’re a peaceful people, us gnomes.”

“You’re all gnoblins,” Clovis reminded him, “but if ‘gnome’ is your preferred pronoun, that’s what I’ll use.”

“‘Gnome’ isn’t a pronoun, but we can get into that later,” I told the spellbook. “Look, Thorgrim, we didn’t do much, Dinny and me. But we did get a little handy.”

“Are you saying… are you saying she gave you a handjob?” he asked, his breaths suddenly short.

“... Sure. If it makes you feel any better—”

“—It doesn’t!”

“—In that case, I got a handjob from a dungeoncore. To quote Jay-Z, ‘this isn’t the life I chose; rather, it’s the life that chose me.’ An opportunity presented itself while I was, um, sleeping. A hand came up from the dungeon floor and a happy ending commenced. I’m not proud of it, Thorgrim, but you have to understand I was asleep, so I thought it was part of the dream I was having. Well, it wasn’t. And there, that’s all the confession I’m capable of at the moment.”

“Then all you got was a handjob?” he asked, looking from me to Hargrim.

“Sure. And it wasn’t by choice. It was also a bit rough too considering the texture of the floor. I’m lucky I have a heightened healing power.”

“If that’s all that happened, then I suppose… I suppose we can put this aside for now. Not the first dungeoncore that gave out a handjob, and certainly not the last,” Thorgrim said with a broken grin.

“You didn’t tell me Chelsea gave you a handjob,” said Clovis.

“She gave me plenty when we were married. At least at the start.”

“Married?” Thorgrim asked, growing suspicious again.

“My ex-wife is named Chelsea, which also happens to be the, um, nickname I gave Dinnymatt.”

Hargrim shook his head in disgust, but Thorgrim seemed to understand: “I get it. We all like to name things after our ex-wives. I should know. Heh. There’s a reason I’m banging holes in the wall—I never could get along well with female gnomes. Just ask my six exes. Had to kill three of them, but that’s only because they tried to kill me. Self-defense, am I right? And don’t get me started on the child support I owe every month. Why the hell do you think I’m here right now? Anyway, I guess… I guess we’ll help you put on a performance.” Thorgrim threw his head back. “It’s time to unleash the thespian within!”

****

I didn’t expect Thorgrim or Hargrim to be good actors, nor did I expect them to memorize their lines so well. Thorgrim decided to take the role of Apollos the rapping bird bard, mostly because he wanted to reenact the dying scene. Clovis insisted he would play the role of the Mechakaren (we decided to skip the Megakaren fight altogether), and with his Magic Missiles, this sort of made sense. I played the role of Randy ‘Four Loko Mad Lad’ Lionheart, and Hargrim played as Rob Blastforge, the gnome wielding a pair of practice swords.

The script was as done as it was going to be and it had been confirmed with Drizzy, plus we’d been able to rehearse it once by the time the curtains started to lift.

“Places, places!” I hissed to the three.

Clovis bolted stage left, the two gnoblins heading right. Drizzy appeared, a spotlight now shining on the wizardess, who now wore a sparkling red dress. Dare I say she looked halfway sexy? I dare not. I was able to get a brief glimpse of the crowd and I saw a lot of elven ears, several thousand by my count.

“I’m nervous,” Hargrim said, the gnoblin once again digging around in his nose for treasure.

I slapped his hand away. “Now’s not the time to pick your nose. You know what to do. You were born to play the role of Rob Blastforge. Born to do it!”

“I… I was?” he asked, looking up at me with hope in his eyes, including his droopy one.

“You’re goddamn right you were. Thorgrim, you good?”

The other gnoblin offered me a short nod. We’d fashioned a beak for him out of paper, and while it didn’t fit perfectly over his face, he did somewhat resemble Apollos. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, Angel Farts.”

“That’s Mr. Angel Farts to you. Let’s get out there, and give them a hell of a show!”

Confetti began to fall from the rafters as Drizzy introduced us. “Up next is a performance from Randy Lionheart aka Angel Farts and Clovis the Avariel Spellbook, featuring Thorgrim Maltwhirl and Hargrim Harmtwill. Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, put your hands together for Honey, I Shrunk the Badger!”

If you’re thinking that the title was Clovis’ idea, you would be right. It had nothing to do with the play we were about to put on, but he’d suggested it, Hargrim and Thorgrim had liked it, and I’d let it slide.

Sometimes a writer-director-actor has to do that.

“Here we go,” I said as the applause died down. “See you guys on the other side.” I waltzed out onto the stage, arms wide as I smiled at the crowd. “Dum-da-da-da-dum! Wouldn’t it be nice if visitors to Hamsterdam could go to Sungorus without the fear of being attacked? Hmmmm?” I made a face at the audience, definitely overselling it. “Who doesn’t like safety and security in their city?”

Hargrim joined me on the stage, both his fake swords at the ready. “That’s right, that’s right. I’m bloody tired of all the petty crime and vagabonds. Curse the vagabonds!”

“My, my, my, my, myyyyy!” came Thorgrim, who’d interpreted the ‘rap’ part of Apollos’ schtick as a straight-up singing. I’d tried to explain the difference during our rehearsal—you try explaining the nuances of hip-hop to a Genera gnoblin—but this had led to a debate with Clovis on autotune in hip-hop and a brief discussion on high hat usage in trap music. In the end, we’d decided on letting Thorgrim interpret the rapping bird bard the way he saw fit. This included pretending to fly, Thorgrim flapping a pair of wings made from fake shields that made a metallic clapping noise. “Now, I fly!”

Hargrim thrust both swords into the air. “We’ve come here to kill all hamsters!”

“Save all hamsters,” I told him under my breath. “Save.”

“We’ve come to save all hamsters!”

“That’s right,” I said, finally unsheathing my axe. “And we will find the demon that is providing all the drugs in Hamsterdam! Dum-da-da-da-dum!”

Thorgrim started up again. “Why are drugs good? Why are drugs bad? Why can’t we all get alooong? We’ve come here to Hamsterdam to slay furry things, and make sure that dungeons stay faithful to their men!”

I tried not to let the audience see me cringe. We’d agreed that a little (or a lot) of improv would be necessary to pull this off, but I’d written the semblance of a script and Thorgrim was already straying from it. Even worse: we were wasting time. If we didn’t win this challenge, we’d have to start sidequesting like a pair of taskrabbits.

We had to impress this crowd.

“Aha! Apollos, your songs are so good, so very good,” I said with a big grin on my face. “Let’s see what we can find over here. Dum-da-da-da-dum!”

This was supposed to be Clovis’ cue to appear, and when he didn’t, I said the same line again, only louder.

This also didn’t work.

Hargrim tried to cue the spellbook: “We’ve saved so many hamsters, I wonder what terrible creature waits for us OVER HERE,” he said, motioning toward the opposite end of the stage.

Clovis floated out, a white cotton blanket draped over him. He rose into the air, the blanket making it appear as if he’d grown in size. “Vas iz da meaning of dees!” he shouted, going with a terrible German accent, one that was both a bad Arnold Schwarzenegger impression and sort of a spot-on at the same time. “Vy hast du come to der Hamsterdamzuschule! Ich bin dee Mechakaren! Jah!”

Someone in the crowd chuckled. I don’t know who that person was, but they literally saved us in that moment, giving me the spark of hope I needed to continue on. As stupid as this was, feeling even a hint of audience appreciation, can go a long away.

“We’ve… we’ve come here to stop you!” I flourished Axl Rose and did a jump, landing in a cool, superhero pose, head bowed down. Hargrim did the same, only he botched the landing and fell forward. He quickly corrected himself.

“Sorry, Angel Farts.”

“It’s cool,” I whispered. “Focus!”

Again going off script, Thorgrim flapped his shield wings and did a circle around us singing like an assclown as he did so: “I will kill all cheaters, all cheaters across the land! Cheat on me, ascendant, and you’ll end up a dead man. No more handjobs from dungeoncores, nothing of the sort. Die by the death of my father’s sword, I’ll squash you where you stand!”

“I vill kill you all!” Clovis tossed the blanket back and fired off a pair of Magic Missiles, that struck the opposite side of the stage. The explosion that followed created an enormous boom that I knew the audience felt, a few gasps reaching my ears once the smoke began to clear. The other side of the stage was now on fire, which was something we’d planned all along.

“Let’s go, boys!” I pointed my axe at Clovis. “Kill the Mechakaren!”

Clovis fired another Magic Missile. “You cannot kill vat you deed not create, Farteeng Angeel!”

Another botched line. It was supposed to be something like ‘This day will be marred by the blood of hamsters and gnomes,’ but it was close enough.

I rushed forward, Hargrim on script as he kept up with me. We pretended to swing our weapons at Clovis, who swooped back and produced a sword of his own. Clank! Clank! Clovis blocked my next few attacks, metal on metal adding to the dynamics.

“Nooo!” I yelled once he pressed forward. I purposely went to the ground and lost my axe in the process. “My weapon. Rob Blastforge, save me!”

“Aye, lad, I will be your Daddy!”

“My Jesus!” I yelled, correcting Hargrim’s line just as he slipped in front of me to block Clovis’ attacks.

“Honey vadger! Honey vadger! Honey vadger!” cried Clovis. “I vill tame all of you and make you miener honey vadgers! Wer ist meiner honey vadger? Gut vadger, gut, gut! Gut vadg! Und sterben!”

“You came to my dungeon and took her from me. I vow to disembowel you the next time you sleep! I’ll carve out your skull and use it for a mug. And once I’m finished drinking I’ll sell the skull and your butt!”

“Knock it the fuck off,” I told Thorgrim, who continued to ‘fly’ around us. “Stick to the script!”

“The script is garbage; you’re a talentless hack. If you tried even harder, you’d still be a twat! You should kill yourself, Angel Farts! You should kill yourself, Angel Farts. Kill yourself, Angel Farts, for the good of the tower! Save us from your stupid play, you useless tart.”

“No one talks to my friend that way!” Clovis broke character and struck Thorgrim with a Magic Missile, killing him instantly, but not before a fiery, shitty death in which the gnoblin ran around the stage cursing and flapping his shield wings, his flesh sizzling.

“Holy…” I gritted my teeth as I watched Thorgrim die.

The crowd grew silent.

“He… he was a traitor all along,” I said, speaking directly to the crowd now. I looked to the left and the right, as if I were searching for someone. “Has a traitor ever been amidst your ranks? Have you ever heard the warnings through song and glee, a traitor biding their time to see the death of thee?”

(Yes, it wasn’t great, but none of this was good, and that was why it was starting to be simply acceptable. I think.)

“Have you ever trusted someone so deeply that you didn’t see it coming? Have you lived to tell the tale, the scars of a friendly dagger, signs of a struggle overcome? Cumbersome! Friend and foe intertwined, a night betrayal after a day of merrymaking, your friend all along faking, biding their time. The dagger moves from its sheath, destined for thee!” I made as if I were stabbing someone. “And all is lost, a friendship gone, a trust beyond repair, blood pooling from the wound and creating a puddle in which to drown yourself. Drown yourself! Bathe in your own blood and be reborn! For there isn’t much you can do in life but celebrate your defeats. You’re alive, you’re alive, you son of a bitch, you are alive! And your friend?” I cast my arm at Thorgrim’s corpse. “Dead. Such is life.”

What did I just do? I thought, pausing to see if my words had any effect on the crowd. I heard a few sniffles. No friggin’ way. I looked over to Hargrim to see him wiping a tear, Clovis now tilted forward as if my improvised soliloquy that would have gotten me laughed off Broadway had truly touched the spellbook.

A few of the elves began to stand and clap.

“Impossible,” I whispered. And rather than show the audience my shock, I bowed forward.

More stood, and as the fires on the stage started to peter out it became clearer and clearer that somehow, defying all odds, we had completed this dumbass challenge. Unless Drizzy tried to pull a fast one on us, we had just banked one hundred ruby Hamster Coins and were set to ascend.

Finally.

Finally.

Onto the next floor.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Shop ‘Til We Drop

There was only one thought racing through my mind as Drizzy congratulated us, smiling with a hint of surprise behind her eyes—I can’t believe our play actually worked.

It wouldn’t be the last time I would have such a sentiment in Genera, but it certainly felt different in that moment, the crowd cheering, my mouth hanging open, Clovis calling something out to the audience in his shitty German accent.

We flashed away, glitter and bits of confetti spraying into my face as we reappeared in Hamsterdam Park. I now stood in front of a fountain with what resembled a change machine with a flashing yellow light on top.

“That was amazing, Randy, amazing! Did you see how good I was?”

“You were the star, for sure. And even though maybe you shouldn’t have killed him, thank you for dealing with Thorgrim,” I told the spellbook, who was excited to the point that pages were sticking out of him. As usual, I began tucking them back in.

“Was ist das? Das ist ein talentiertes buch! Fick ya! Wait, that’s right. That’s RIGHT. I totally remember now?”

“Remember what?” I asked as I watched yet another hamster travel by in a wheel, the fat little fellow grunting up a storm.

“Fick means the f-bomb in German, so if we actually named our guild Mitherfickers, it would be like calling us mother-fers.”

“The name just doesn’t do it for me.” I raised an eyebrow at the spellbook. “You don’t say fuck?”

“No, I say fick. And you curse too much, by the way. People don’t like authors who curse too much.”

“People aren’t reading this right now. Hate to remind you, but this is real life, Clovis; I can cuss all I want. I should be cursing more considering the bullshit we usually wind up having to deal with.”

“But if this was a book…”

“You’re a book,” I said, both of us laughing at my stupid comeback.

<Are the two of you done being idiots yet? Rather than stand around and wank each other off, you’ll probably want to place the ruby Hamster Coins in the coin slot and get on with it. Doing so will stop the clock.>

“Stop the clock?” I asked Lily, deciding at that moment to skip over her ‘wank’ comment.

I half-expected Drizzy the batty wizardess to be standing there with us, but it was just Clovis and me, and hamsters, plenty of hamsters enjoying the nice sunny day in the park. For some reason, seeing all the hamsters in their bright clothing gave me a Teletubbies vibe, a memory that I quickly suppressed once I found a felt coin bag in my hand.

One hundred ruby Hamster Coins… I thought. This is worth so much Lyra…

<Ascendants must all start the fourth floor at the same time.  Once you insert the coins, the timer will stop and you are free to do what you’d like until the other ascendants get the necessary Hamster Coins, give up, or fail. May I suggest using this time to get a few levels? It would likely serve the two of you well.>

“Levels, huh?” I’d been so wrapped up in dealing with hamster bullshit that I hadn’t thought much about leveling. She was right; it was important. It was sort of the point of the journey in some regards.

<You may travel to floors you have already visited through the usage of a fountain. This includes the first floor, where you barely survived the deathmatch, and the Endless Desert on the second floor.>

“We travel through fountains?” Clovis floated over to the fountain in front of us and shifted back, as if he’d seen something shocking. I approached to find a kaleidoscopic image, one that looked like a desert had been swirled with a savannah, all of it obscured by the sun reflecting off the surface of the water.

<If you jump into the fountain, you will be asked which floor you’d like to visit. You can only visit floors that you have cleared.>

Another thought came to me as I felt the weight of the coin bag in my hand—we could totally use this money. We could either use the Hamster Coins themselves, or exchange them for lyra. It really seemed like a no brainer aside from the fact that we had a time limit. This was yet another thing I was coming to understand about Genera—there was always a catch.

“I’m not saying we should, but there is also a scenario in which we simply cash out,” I told Clovis.

“To do what exactly?”

“We could cash out some of it and use the funds for better armor. I’m still wearing goddamn gnoblin gear over here.”

Clovis hesitated. “I don’t know… it seems like that would lead to us wasting our money on all sorts of things. Plus, you look good.”

“Thanks, I guess. And what exactly would we waste money on?”

“Mustaches. More dolls. Can I see the goblin doll? I never get to see it.”

I recalled the goblin doll that he’d made me buy from one of the bakeneko salescats.  “You can equip it yourself; you should know that by now.”

“Right.” Clovis equipped the goblin doll and held it in his scrawny magical turquoise hand. “It has good weight to it.”

“I’m sure it does and, yes, yes we could buy some useless shit as well. Probably better we stick to useful stuff, like tokens. We really need to find a solid token dealer. I feel like we’re missing that at the moment, just the two cats selling to us.”

<The two of you can’t be serious.>

I looked up at the sky, as if Lily were hovering right above me.

<If you have a chance to ascend to the next floor, you should always take that chance. You have that chance now. The fact that you’re holding the bag of Hamster Coins where anyone can see it is bonkers. Secure your passage to the fourth floor, and then have a conversation about things that you should do. I already gave you a great option—get levels. Maybe you’ll run into some lyra or tokens through leveling…>

“Maybe we’ll find someone that will take LyraCoin so I can finally swap out these shitty Harmon Tokens,” I said in an attempt to see how far I could push it with Lily.

<You must be joking…>

I held the coin bag over the fountain. “What would happen if I…?” I whipped it back to my chest and started laughing nervously. “Sorry about all that. I’ll stop messing around. Clovis, let’s pay the piper, get some levels, and hopefully some cash.”

“We’re going back to the Hamfather?”

“What? No. We’re going to go fight something somewhere.”

For a moment I thought I’d have to place each coin into the slot individually, but as I approached the yellow exchange apparatus (there has to be a better name for it than that), I noticed a plate on top that I took for some sort of upside-down bell earlier. I placed the coin bag on the tray and it fizzled away.

Goodbye one hundred thousand Lyra, I thought.

The game show host voice started up again.

Congratulations, ascendant. You have cleared the third floor. There are still other ascendants attempting to gather enough Hamster Coins to move to the next level. You will be alerted once they have done so and transported to the fourth floor at that time. Enjoy the break, and good luck!

****

“No floor loot for Hamsterdam?” I asked once it was clear a prompt wasn’t coming.

<Not every floor has loot, but that is generally remedied by a stork. Keep an eye out for a stork.>

Clovis tilted toward the sky. “All I see are pigeons. There are a lot of pigeons here. Like in New York City. Once, I saw a man feeding a pigeon from his palm. Actually, it was in an Instagram story.”

“Thanks for letting me know, and hopefully, a stork is coming our way. Now, regarding kicking ass and taking names, we’ve got plenty of names and we need to kick more ass. So, Endless Desert or the first floor?”

Clovis bobbed left and right as he considered this. “Shouldn’t we try to spend the lyra we have first? I’ve got some meerkat tails that might be worth something.”

“That’s right,” I told the spellbook at the same time I pictured myself wearing a coonskin-style hat made out of a meerkat. I desperately needed new armor. “So Rodentia? Let’s see what they have there, but not take too long. There’s no telling when the other ascendants will finish this floor’s challenge and we’ll be insta-ported to the next floor. Could be any moment from now, or it could be days.”

“But it doesn’t count against us, right?”

I waited for Lily to confirm this, and when she didn’t, I nodded at the spellbook. “That’s right. Follow me. I think it was this way.” The map of Hamsterdam appeared on the lower left-hand corner of my viewing pane, a flashing circle indicating where we needed to go. “Thanks, Lil-Lil.”

As we had previously, Clovis twisted through the park and onto a crosswalk managed by a portly hamster, red in the face from blowing his whistle at passing hamster wheels. He snorted at us as we passed, and Clovis was just about to stop to talk with him—in the middle of the crosswalk, mind you—when I ushered the spellbook along.

“We’re men on a mission,” I reminded him.

“Shopping and fighting, huh?” Clovis equipped his sword and swung it, causing a few hamsters to scatter and the police hamster to blow his whistle.

“Shit! Put that away or we’re going to get a weapons charge, or whatever they do here in Hamsterdam for spellbooks brandishing swords on the streets.”

“Sorry.” The sword disappeared. “It’s just fun to finally be a couple of bad boys.”

I started to laugh at this statement. “Is that what you would consider us?”

“Two Mitherfickers, real Mitherfickers.”

“How many times do I need to tell you this? That guild name doesn’t work for me.”

“It’ll be our guild name until you come up with a better one. Lily, can you make Mitherfickers our guild name?”

“Lily, ignore Clovis.”

“Lily, don’t ignore Clovis. Ignore Angel Farts.”

<How about I ignore the both of you? That would make my job much easier. If you’re looking for the shops, they are straight ahead and on the left. The Dixon and Doyle Kyo have a shop here as well.>

“That’s the cats, right?” Clovis asked. “I’d prefer to shop locally. I’m big into local economies.”

“Actually…” I nodded at what Clovis had just said. Coming from Portland, this was something I’d done for so long that it came second nature. “Not a bad idea, Clovers. And circling back around to our previous conversation: let’s hold off on the guild name for a bit, though. We need something that puts fear into the hearts of our enemies, and ‘Mitherfickers’ is not that. Trust me.”

“So something more along the lines of… Killer McShits?”

I glanced at the spellbook, and in doing so nearly ran into a teenage girl nursing a bottle of hamster juice. I apologized, the petite hamster cursed at me under her breath, and we moved on. We stopped in front of a one-story shop with a shingled roof, one that didn’t match the newer buildings that surrounded it, many made of glass and the metal known as hamsterdamian, at least at first glance.

“Night Eyes Curios, huh?” I asked. “That’s a sort of cool name, right? Night Eyes? Reminds me of Snake Eyes from GI Joe. And don’t say, ‘the movie;’ I’m talking about the cartoon.”

“I never got into that stuff but any shop that says ‘we got the goods’ is a shop I’ll check out.” Sure enough, there was a sign in one of the windows that said WE GOT THE GOODS, with a smiley face beneath the double O in ‘goods.’

It seemed legit enough.

We entered Night Eyes Curios to find the space dusty and cluttered, a mothball smell to the air. A hamster in a sweater stood in front of a glass countertop, a proletariat-styled cap on his head. “Welcome!” he said, his voice that of a smoker. “I’m Night Eyes.”

“That’s your real name?”

“It sure is…” He approached Clovis. “A sentient Avariel spellbook, eh? I guess it’s one of those days.” He produced a pipe that he’d apparently had behind his back and took a puff from it, the scent of his tobacco sweet and strong.

“Do you normally see spellbooks?”

“I see plenty of spellbooks, this is a curios shop, after all. But I rarely see sentient ones. But I digress. How can I help you, gentlemen?”

“We’re here to shop until we drop.”

“Are you now?” he asked Clovis before I could shush the spellbook. “Then let’s make that easy. I have a lot in here, things ranging in cost from—”

“I already know you’re going to say ‘no,’ but you don’t happen to take LyraCoin do you?” I asked. “It’s a stablecoin pinned to lyra, which I know one can theoretically exchange for Hamster Coins.”

“No, we don’t do anything like that here. If you’re trying to swap out crypto, your best bet would be to get in touch with the hamster mafia. I’m not saying you should start at Hamlet, a few blocks away, but that would be a good place to start…” He shrugged. “Anyway, that’s what I would do if I was desperate. I’m not against cryptocurrencies or anything, but it’s not legal tender here and if I did take it, and the hamster mafia found out, I’d be in hot water. I mean that literally. They’d boil me alive.”

“We’re one step ahead of you in terms of dealing with those goons…”

“Careful who you call goons,” Night Eyes told me. “The Hamfather and his kin do a lot for the community. A rainstorm flooded my shop years ago, and they paid to have it repaired free-of-charge. They even offered me an insurance that I pay weekly now that goes toward future upkeep.”

“That seems nice.”

“What? No it doesn’t, Clovis,” I told the spellbook. “That’s typical mafia-shit. Anyway, we do have some lyra but not a lot. We also have a few things to sell.”

“I see. Let’s start with what you have to sell. We can talk budget later. As I was starting to say earlier, I have things that range in cost from fifteen lyra up to fifteen thousand,” he said, motioning toward a pair of masks that hung above the door.

“Do you have armor?” I asked.

“I have some armor, yes. But mostly vintage stuff.”

“I come from a city that loves thrift stores and vintage clothing.”

He gave me a curious look. “Moving on, what do you have to sell?”

“Top dollar only,” Clovis said as his magical hand appeared with five meerkat tails in it. He dropped them onto the ground.

“Shit, Clovers, at least hand them to him…” I picked up the tails and gave them to Night Eyes.

“Ah, these would be great for crafting… can’t get these here. You are ascendants, are you not?”

“You can tell?” I asked, motioning toward my hamster hat.

“Not everyone in Hamsterdam is an idiot hopped up on juice. Yes, I can tell you are ascendants. I ask because these are used for crafting. Do you have a crafting token?”

“Crafting?” I asked. Of course, there is crafting. I knew we were missing something!

“I love arts and crafts.”

“Not… not that kind of crafting, Clovis. Um, in that case, do you sell a Crafting Token?” I asked Night Eyes. “I’d love to get into some crafting.”

“I do in fact sell a Crafting Token. Would you be interested in trading these five meerkat tails for the token? I believe that would be a fair exchange.”

“How much would you give them for us otherwise?”

“That depends on what else you have. Do you have anything else to offer me?” I took a quick look at my inventory list.

Scorpion antivenom? This seemed like it could be useful.

Sneezing powder? This had already proved to be useful.

Potion of Invulnerability? I wasn’t going to screw myself by giving this one up.

Magical door knob? We would inevitably need this one.

Paper Crane Talisman? Also something that was helpful.

Crystalized hamster juice? Maybe an option…

Iron ore? I kept getting the feeling I would need that, likely once we got the Crafting Token.

“How about some crystalized hamster juice?” I asked.

The seller grew uncomfortable. “You’re… wanting to exchange narcotics?”

“It’s the same stuff you people are always drinking, just in powder form.”

“You people?” Clovis asked.

“You know what I mean. Okay. You know what? Never mind. Never mind. We just had this teenage brat give it to us, and I have no real need for it.”

“And I can’t eat. If I could, it would have to be gluten-free, and I don’t know if the hamster powder is gluten-free,” Clovis chimed in.

“Yes, I see. You should be careful who you go around offering drugs to, just some friendly advice. Anyway, if you don’t have anything else to trade, then my offer still stands.”

“Do you have mana potions?”

“MP and HP potions,” he said, “I have both. Delivered fresh yesterday.”

“Great, we’ll do it, and the rest of the lyra we have we’ll spend on potions.” I handed him the tails. “It’s been a pleasure, Snake Eyes.”

“Night Eyes, because I have such good vision.” He took the meerkat tails from me. “I’ll gather the token and the potions. How many will you be needing?”

I offered him just about the biggest grin I could muster. “How many potions will five hundred and fifty lyra get us? We’ll take the token too…”

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Fighting Murder Hornets Isn’t What it Used to Be

‘Crafting’ in video games and generally video-game related fiction, like the books I had written in the past, didn’t necessarily need to follow the science and mechanics of actually augmenting or forging something, nor did the materials need to make any sense.

Lucky for me, Genera was no different. The crafting menu was accessed by either swiping down or simply thinking of crafting, yet the system operated so fluidly that I really didn’t need to make any gestures.

We had already picked up three Iron Ore Tokens in our last trip to the Endless Desert, and at quick glance, I only needed two more to upgrade Axl Rose. Not only that, I could enhance my basic gnome gear with seven meerkat tails and two pieces of iron ore. Even cooler, I received a preview of what my gear would look like with the upgrade.

Level Two Basic Gnome Gear looked pretty badass, perfect for a fledgling berserker such as myself. It came with a cape and a hood—I am Batman—and a metal cuirass dipped in leather for noise reduction. Small pauldrons to allow for maximum movement, and the option of either woven leather pants or a kilt of sorts. I was definitely considering going with the kilt.

Axl Rose’s upgrade wasn’t as dramatic, but there would now be a light dragon design etched into the bit, reinforced grip, and it looked sharper and beefier, still a one-handed axe though, luckily for me. I hadn’t yet run into the option of buying a shield, but it was definitely something I’d consider in the future.

“I really, really wish I’d known about the crafting side of things all along,” I announced as we reached the fountain at the center of Hamsterdam. Currently, there was a young couple seated near the fountain, the female hamster with a tulip in one paw, a sippy cup of hamster juice in the other. It didn’t take an active imagination to see how odd it would be for me to simply run past them and cannonball into the fountain.

“Me too.”

“I wish someone would have told me. No wonder all the other ascendants are looking so much cooler than us.”

“Sorry, Randy, I didn’t know about crafting,” Clovis told me.

“Not you, someone else. Someone whose name rhymes with Billy.”

<There are many aspects of Genera that are based on what the ascendant is capable of understanding, and the choices they have made up until that point. To explain what I just said in a different way: if you don’t ask, I don’t generally answer. If you are barely capable of understanding, I don’t try to confuse things by adding more for you to consider. There are numerous ways to affect your dashboard through user interface tokens. It is not my job to read your mind and tell you what you’d like to know.>

Clovis turned to me. “Lily has a point.”

“Dammit. How… just how do we portal anyway? We don’t just jump into the fountain, do we?”

<To portal to another floor, dive into the fountain. You can either tell me where you’d like to go, or wait for the prompt.>

“So we just jump straight in?”

<Unless there is another definition in your world of the word ‘dive,’ then yes, Angel Farts, you jump into the water. Go on, now, jump and be done with it. And don’t worry about Clovis; he won’t get wet.>

“Alrighty, then,” I said, looking at Clovis. “You going to jump in on your own or do you want to jump in with me?”

“I’m a book; we’re not normally supposed to get wet.”

“Lily said you won’t get wet.”

“Did she? I was busy looking at the balloons.”

Sure enough, there were hot air balloons in the distance; for some reason, I got this sense that they were part of some quest that an ascendant was doing. “In that case, get over here.” I swiped Clovis out of the air, and launched myself into the water.

Lily lied.

It was wet at first, but then it was as if we’d been blasted in the face by a hair dryer, the wind whipping all around us, Clovis and my writerly ass freefalling but also sort of floating.

We appeared at the center of the Endless Desert, where there was now a fountain. As soon as Clovis floated away, I equipped my gillsuit, and felt an instant burst of moisture.

“Okay, Clovers, the rules are simple: we are looking for as much iron ore and shifty meerkats as we can. We’ve both got levels to get, and I want to upgrade my gear.”

“I wish we could upgrade my binding,” Clovis said, a sentiment he’d expressed earlier.

“Maybe we’ll figure out a way to do that later. The Crafting Token is a user interface token; it might be upgradeable. We can also talk to the book guy in Rodentia later, Yawapata was his name, I believe. It’s totally not fair that you don’t get upgrades; there has to be a way to do it…” I spotted some activity on a crest of sand about a quarter mile away. “But we can address that later. I see some meerkats. Let’s get grinding.”

****

Slash, slash, slash, all day long, slash, slash, slash while I sing this song.

No real tune for that one, but it perfectly described the next several hours as Clovis and I hunted meerkats and just about anything else we could square off against in the desert. This included armadillos, which were a sonofabitch to fight, as well as a pair of oversized dung beetles. We’d been able to purchase five HP and five MP potions back at Night Eyes’ place, which we’d put to use, Clovis downing a mana potion (I can’t believe he actually understood how to equip something to his quicklist, which we shared because of our Guild Token), and I’d thrown back two health potions, mostly because I’d been playing the role of the tank for the time being, allow Clovis to fire off magic missiles and hack at stragglers with his sword.

His blunt sword was one thing we’d be able to upgrade, something I’d forgotten about in our initial discussion. It too would take two iron ores for the first upgrade, and we were well on our way to get there. As it stood, we had four iron ores and had spotted a cache on a hill protected by meerkats. We also had five meerkat tails, and just needed a few more. While we could have started crafting, I’d always been the type in games to save it all for one go, which we were planning to do shortly, and challenge myself up until that point.

We’d each gotten levels, ‘off screen’ as it is known in the industry, and I had this feeling that I was about to get another. I’d done much of the heavy lifting over the last few fights, and things were really looking up. Not only that, I’d used the skill points I had to improve my Rage skill, bringing it to Level 2, which doubled my strength and stamina for fifteen seconds now per mana point used instead of ten. For his part, Clovis had used his skill points to enhance his shield ability, something we were just about to test out.

“Shield!” Clovis shouted as he whirled around me. A half-dome of turquoise energy took shape over the two of us just as a few meerkats launched themselves in our direction.

“Ha!” I shouted as they struck the shield, confused and angry.

“We’ve never kicked so much ass in our lives, have we?”

“How do you know I wasn’t fighting meerkats back in our world?” I asked the spellbook, the magical shield giving me a moment to catch my breath. Boy, I needed that.

“Aren’t they endangered?”

“No idea. I’d look it up on my phone, but, you know.”

“No phones. Isn’t it nice?”

“Actually…” I considered this statement for a moment as the meerkats continued to try to get through to us.  “It’s not so bad. Sure, I can’t look stuff up, and sure, I can’t constantly check my phone for whatever bullshit I needed to check-up on, but it’s good, real good without it. Don’t get me wrong—smartphones are awesome. But do you remember the world without them?”

“Not really. There was already high-speed internet by the time I was born. My first phone was an iPhone.”

I grimaced. “Holy contributing to the delinquency of minors, Batman. I feel old.”

“What did you just say?”

“Long before Batman was played by Hollywood heartthrobs trying to show how dark they could be, there was a TV show, and Robin would say all sorts of batshit insane stuff to Batman. Ha! That probably sounded funny…” Clovis’ shield flashed. Our time was almost up. “Anyway, I did a bunch of research about it once for a snarky character. It probably wasn’t funny at all to readers, but here we are, and readers can’t harm me here anyway. Maybe that’s another advantage of being isekaied to Genera.”

“Holy meerkats with daggers breaking through our shield, Batman!” Clovis spun forward and clocked a meerkat so hard in the face that the poor fellow lost a few teeth, not to mention half his snout being cut off and the eyeball that had popped.

“Holy you just gave that meerkat a hefty dental bill, Batman!”

I swung my axe like an enraged Eivor from Assassin’s Creed Valhalla. I flitted my weapon through the air, my stamina surging now that I’d had a moment to breathe. Something about my movement reminded me of a ninja with nunchucks, a thought that I quickly cast away as I decapitated a meerkat with an overbite and a dagger that was so twisted that it seemed comical.

A magic missile sailed overhead, frying a meerkat; there were two more left, one of which I took down with a quick tap of my Rage power, cueing a burst of arterial graffiti onto a rockface. The second one climbed up a crest and began running along it, sand falling as Clovis blazed toward our last opponent.

The spellbook lit the meerkat up, and soon it was nothing but a smoldering corpse, which left us with a bit of looting to do. Not to mention the iron ore deposits we’d spotted, which were stacked like those Zen stones people occasionally leave in parks around Portland.

“Hey…” Clovis called down to me, just as I had approached one of the meerkats. “I see some people in the distance. I think… yeah, I’d recognize that Japanese goblin anywhere. Emiko is not too far away. And she’s with a troll.”

“Emiko and a troll, huh? Let’s get this loot, get that ore, see if we can’t upgrade our gear, and then see what those two are up to.”

****

The upgrade process was fairly simple. I simply thought of the item or looked at it in the case of Axl Rose, and was prompted to upgrade.

“Don’t mind if I do,” I said, starting with my instrument of destruction. Energy ran along the bit of the axe, the grip became bulkier and more, well, grippy, as a barely visible dragon carving took shape on the face.

Next up was my clothing. It instantly felt bulkier, and the cloak that formed over the epaulets made me feel like an utter badass. I thought about going for the kilt, but decided on the leather pants with their reinforced knees, which synced up well with my elven jock strap. My boots even upgraded, the soles becoming thicker, which told me that it paid to have matching gear. The only thing that didn’t upgrade was my Hamsterdamian metal glove, which apparently wasn’t something I was able to modify at this time. In the end, amping up my Basic Gnome Wear netted me four additional defense points, and upgrading Axl Rose netted me five strength points, which was how Genera gauged attack power.

I turned to Clovis. “Let’s see what happens now. Get your sword out.”

Using the Crafting Token, I upgraded Clovis’ sword, which gave him three additional strength points. The sword looked a lot less shabby than it had before, the blade sharpened, the cross-guard less shabby too. This led to a question that Lily quickly answered, explaining that the strength of Clovis’ magical attacks weren’t quantifiable at the moment with the stats that we had, and that they were tied to his MP and his stamina, which was why his stamina was so much higher than his other base attributes.

“They’re starting to move away,” Clovis told me, referring to Emiko and the troll she was with. “Should I… teleport there?”

“Actually, yes. Yes, you should. We haven’t really tried that power yet.”

I accessed Clovis’ magic sheet and read the brief description for teleportation.

Teleportation Level 1 allows for movement to a spot the caster can currently see. Higher levels allow for teleporting other people and teleporting to places one has visited previously.

Neat.

“You can see them, right?” I asked Clovis.

“Sure can. Emiko still has red hair, and she’s still a goblin. Unless there is another Japanese goblin.”

“It’s her. Teleport, and I’ll meet you there. You’ve got this, Clovers.”

“Sure…” He flashed away, leaving a bit of turquoise residue in his wake.

“Yet another underutilized skill…” I started up a sand dune, and ended up taking a sip of water in the process from my gillsuit. It was a dry heat, one that sort of reminded me of the high desert of Bend, Oregon. I’d visited plenty of times with Chelsea; we’d even discussed moving there if we could get the funds together. Spoiler alert: we never could.

A tiny dust storm kicked up, obscuring my surroundings for a moment. It cleared around the time I was coming down another crest, where I spotted Clovis talking to Emiko and a female troll, one I recognized from the pod that took us to the tower. She was the epitome of short and stout, with a wooly hat on her head and a whip at her side, her skin with an earthen tone to it much darker than Emiko’s green goblin color.

“For fuck’s sake,” said the troll, “you weren’t lying.”

“Lying about what?” Clovis asked.

“That you two just came from Hamsterdam. This one is still wearing the hamster hat!”

I realized at that moment that the hamster beanie was still on my head, a testament to just how cool the gillsuit kept me. I kept it on.

Emiko started to laugh. “It is sort of a cosplay for him.”

“I would wear a hamster beanie if I could,” said Clovis. “Or a mustache. I never could grow a proper mustache.”

I tried to change gears with my next question: “What are you two doing all the way out here?”

“Um, the same thing you’re doing,” said the troll. “My name is Nanny Sturtle, by the way, just in case you were wondering.”

“I was. The name is Randy—the noun, not the adjective—and you’ve already met Clovis. By that accent I would say you’re from the States?”

“The midwest. Kansas City to be exact, but I grew up in Minnesota. That doesn’t matter now; I’m here to win this thing and to do that, we need levels. So Emmy and I teamed up to farm XP until the idiots who are still struggling with the Hamsterdam challenge can get it figured out. We’ve been out here for a day now.”

Emiko nodded. “And we’re working on a quest now.”

“A quest? We love quests,” Clovis said. “You should have seen some of the great quests we took in Hamsterdam.”

I nearly stopped him but then I paused, wondering where he was going with this.

“We helped a drug cartel and rescued a troubled teen from a life of dealing narcotics.”

Nanny considered what Clovis had told her. “The hamster mafia, yeah? We knew better than to get involved there. We ended up completing some bullshit babysitting tasks for the ruby coins. They took the name Nanny way too literally there.” She grunted in a very troll-like way, the broad-shouldered woman with a deep voice, a square-jaw and thick muscles. Definitely giving off a Wolverine vibe sans the facial hair.

“What quest are you up to now?” I asked.

“Mandra elves are having a murder hornet problem. We’re here to see to that. Tracked the hornets to those caves right over there.” Nanny pointed at a cluster of rocks about half a mile away.

Emiko offered me a short nod. “Hai! You can join us if you’d like.”

“Murder hornets, huh? You know, I’ve actually had to deal with those things in the real world before being from the Pacific Northwest and all,” I told her.

Nanny turned toward the cave and waved for us to follow. “I doubt you’ll be able to get a can of Raid to kill these ones. They’re big. Like the size of rolled-up yoga mats.”

We started up the incline, Clovis and Nanny at the front, Emiko at the back beside me.

“So…” I grinned at the goblin, recalling the time we’d held hands. I didn’t have kids, but if I ever had any I’d definitely tell them about the time I held a Japanese goblin’s hand during a deathmatch. At the rate I was going, I’d likely end up in a nursing home having my ass wiped by an android, which was also not as bad as it sounded. That was, if I actually could make it back to Earth.

This had yet to be decided.

“Are you progressing well?” she asked.

“I am, getting closer to Level 10.”

Her eyes grew in size, as if she were surprised that I’d done so well, or shocked that I hadn’t made it further. Probably the latter.

“You?” I asked after an uncomfortable silence.

“I don’t discuss my level with other ascendants. We may become competitors again in the future.”

“True, true.” I looked her over once again.

The short goblin had clearly upgraded her samurai-inspired armor, which was layered and form-fitting, dark gray with light accents that formed a diamond just over her chest that covered a thick plate of armor. It was as cool as it was intimidating, something that ronin of the past would have fawned over.

Maybe I should have gone with a kilt, I thought as I noticed how the armored short skirt she wore provided extra movement. Then again, she also had leather leggings with armor plates tucked into a pair of boots shaped into tabi shoes.

Or maybe not…

Nanny pointed to a rocky entrance obscured by shadow. “We can do this two ways, boys: we can bring the hornets out, or we can go in after them. I suggest we bring them out. No telling how many are in there close to the hive.”

“I agree. Let’s bring them here.” Emiko took a few steps to the right, as if she were getting into position. A small shield that fit just over her wrist appeared on one hand, her spear in the other, the shield designed for her to still be able to use a two-handed weapon.

“Bring them out you say? I can help with that.” Clovis floated forward, a hint of excitement in his voice. “No need to burn any tokens or anything. Magic Missile!”

The spellbook flipped backward after firing several bolts of turquoise energy into the cave. As if it had been planned, he collided with me, sending both of us straight to the ground and forcing me to bite down on my lip and draw blood.

“Shit, Clovis,” I said as I pushed myself out of the sand, the spellbook flat on his spine next to me now. “A bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“I… I was trying to impress them.”

A buzzing sound filled the air, one amped up by the various cave openings.

Murder hornets spilled out, big ones, all between Levels 5 and 20, which was one indication on how highly leveled Emiko and Nanny were. We were going to have to choose our opponents wisely. I tried to relay this to Clovis as quickly as I could, but the spellbook was back in the air, twisting toward the hornets before I could tell them anything.

“Incoming!” I shouted just as one of the lower-level hornets reached me.

I swung my axe at it; the insect pulled back, its stinger exposed. The hornet swept in again and I hit the Rage button, its movement slowing as mine temporarily amped up through a huge boost in stamina. I hacked into the top half of its body and spun to address another hornet, the first one still partially attached to my axe. I landed my attack, guts splashing the air. The end of a whip cut down a hornet to my right, Nanny fast enough with her semi-ranged weapon to actually catch one of the hornets and bring it back to her. She popped its head with a single hand before it could sting her.

“We don’t give a McShit!” Clovis shouted as he hacked away.

More hornets spewed out of the caves, easily a hundred. I kept the Rage going as I smashed through hornets left and right, avoiding stingers, ignoring the smell of their insect blood and scattered magical blasts from Clovis. I got hit by a stinger once and instantly felt the hit to my HP. Remembering how Bobby the rogue halfling had gifted me an antivenom, I stumbled backward, my arms and legs starting to go numb from the poison.

I spotted a couple of downed hornets, and was prompted to loot them, where sure enough I found antivenom.

“Here… goes… nothing…” I threw the antivenom back, which had magically transferred to a small vial.

The feeling was instant.

I was still down HP, but I was geared up and ready to go again as a hornet the size of a dorm room mini-fridge twisted toward me, its stinger primed to go. I managed to swing my axe in front of me just in time to block its stinger, the Mad Lad taking over as I reached my hand forward, found a groove in the fat hornet’s exoskeleton, and hacked at it with Axl Rose as if I were beating a pinata that I was also somehow holding. No candy fell out, but slimy guts did.

I was prompted yet again to grab the antivenom, which I did as I took off toward the main fight.

Watching Emiko in action reminded me of that one time I saw Cirque du Soleil at a writer’s event in Vegas. Let me backtrack. I was at a writer’s event called 20to50k, and I happened to see a show one of the nights with Canadian LitRPG author Ryan DeBruyn. The performers were so spot on, so precise, that watching them perform was like a lesson in the power of daily dedication to a physical craft.

Emiko was no different.

She was fast and light, the goblin using her polearm as a weapon and as something to balance upon, spring off, block hornet stingers—which in itself should be a feat—and cut down her attackers with the grace of a bloodthirsty Olympic athlete. It was mesmerizing. I would have paid good money to see her murdalize murder hornets, which wasn’t a statement I thought I’d ever make.

Refocused, I frenzied toward a cluster of murder hornets and hacked three down with a single swing of my axe, kicked another away, and managed to avoid a stinger and cut one’s wing off, all in the matter of a few seconds. Nanny the troll sent her whip over my head again—I was already starting to hate it when she did that—and struck another.

Snap!

The murder hornets regrouped and came at us. The wall of angry, buzzing little monsters had me puckered up for a moment, but then I realized yet again who I was—a true Four Loko Mad Lad—and what I was able to do, aside from write decent enough genre fiction.

Steeling myself yet again, I exploded toward the hornets and cracked one out of the air.

This became a rallying cry of sorts, Clovis going ballistic with Magic Missiles, Emiko jabbing her spear forward and skewering a few of the larger ones, Nanny whipping them out of the air with uncanny precision.

I triggered my Rage yet again and felt my muscles bulge like Bane after he hit the juice, my next strike cutting a murder hornet in half. I got stung again, and ducked down beneath the wave of hornets to chug the antivenom. I ended up looting another antivenom vial in the end, just as I was coming up with an axe-led uppercut that cut right through the head of a hornet.

I summoned the barbarian within like I was raiding the English coastline, viking my way through more hornets, dodging stingers, and more or less enjoying the vigorous action.

This was what it was all about.

This was what I’d been put in this digital world to do.

Everything around me became a blur. If this was what enlightenment looked like, I wanted more. Moar!

We slayed the last of the murder hornets, Clovis taking down the final one using his sword. The spellbook turned back to me, and as he did, the prompts came, energy pouring into me.

Points!

You have gained a level!

+1 Perception!

+2 Defense!

+3 Skill Points!

You now have the Barbarian skill called Axe Throw! Throw your weapon at a target with extreme precision. Higher levels allow for your axe to return to you.

Race: Human

Class: Barbarian

Name: Randy Lionheart

Level: 9

Tier: Fresh Meat

HP: 31/31

MP: 6/6

Intelligence: 11

Perception: 9

Stamina: 18

Strength: 28

Dexterity: 15

Defense: 19

Health Regen: 15% per hour

MP Regen: 20% per hour

Skill Points: 1

Armor: Basic Gnome Wear, Elven Jock Strap

Weapons: Axl Rose

Accessories: Pinky Ring, Hamsterdamian Metal Glove, Hamster Beanie

“Look who got a level,” said Nanny, the troll lowering her whip. “Lucky.”

“How could you tell?” I asked, elated with the fact that I was now able to throw my weapon.

“Because you started shaking like you were channeling an evil spirit. We all do. It’s weird to see. You should see when Emiko gets a level, it’s like she’s getting a full-body orgasm. Sort of hot, if you ask me.”

The Japanese goblin removed her spear from one of the murder hornets, and was just about to comment when Kandor, the plague-masked kitsune flashed into existence above me.

“Attention all ascendants,” he said, even though there were only four of us. “You will now be ported to the fourth floor, where you will receive further instructions regarding your new challenge. Good luck, and I hope to see you at the top!”

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Burning Books with Vampires

You never get used to simply flashing away and reappearing somewhere else, vanished to a new world entirely. Gone was the vast horizon of sand dunes, cacti, and hidden treasure, replaced by a landscape that resembled the English countryside, rolling green hills cordoned off by moss-covered brick walls, pockets of forests, flocks of sheep, a gray haze over the horizon that I was all too familiar with hailing from Portland, where it rains almost daily from winter into spring.

There were numerous towers scattered across the countryside, some larger than others, some abandoned, a few high enough that they were partially blocked out by the fog. Aside from some ruins, random haystacks, and beautiful oak and sycamore trees, there was our plague-masked kitsune of a Tower Keeper, who floated over all of us, and by ‘us’ I mean the ascendants from our pod. Behind him was a drum tower that was on the smaller side.

The usual suspects were here: Lothan the dark elf, Rob Blastforge the dragonkin, Emiko and Nanny, Kandi the dryad and Bobby Bad Fingers the thieving halfling, spellswords, the wraith I kept seeing who seemed partnered with another woman I didn’t recognize, the towering woman I’d spotted once before with a great sword sheathed on her back, and a few odder fantasy denizens that had gotten lost in the mix. There was a noticeable absence in not only Rune, who turned out to be a friendly giant, but also Apollos, the rapping bird bard.

R.I.P, fellas, I thought as Kandor spoke again, his voice drowning any chatter around me:

“There are forty-six of you left from this pod, which, I must say, is fairly good. Some pods are down to the mid-thirties, which can make this next challenge radically different. If you’re wondering if you will ever meet some of these ascendants from the other pods, the answer is ‘yes.’ The pods will be restructured once you reach the Second Realm, and there is more interaction between pods there depending on the floor. Remember, Genera exists on the blockchain, and multiple ascendants across various pods are going through something similar right now, albeit with different peers and modified surroundings. Yet we are all connected. Exciting, isn’t it?”

Kandor waited for a response, and when one didn’t come, he continued:

“Most of you have less than two days left to ascend to the Second Realm. Some of you have three days or more. There is a twelve-hour time limit for this floor, and your progression will be based on your ranking once this challenge ends. Capture the Swag is a looting and loot-defending challenge that should prime you for what you may face in the next realm. If you haven’t figured it out already, you are still taking part in Genera’s tutorial to some degree.”

I can’t believe this is still a tutorial, I thought.

“What you experienced before you reached the tower can be thought of as the first phase, and what you have and continue to experience here in the First Realm would be the second phase of this tutorial. Hopefully, by the time you ascend to the next realm, you will have taken as many lessons and levels to heart as you can, because it will become harder.”

I grimaced at this statement, my eyes naturally darting over to Lothan, who was looking right at me. Draco Malfoy-looking asshole, I thought as I turned my fist around and offered him the one-finger salute. Seeing what I was doing, Clovis summoned his magical hand and did the same.

“Thata boy, Clovers,” I whispered, Kandor’s voice soon overpowering once again.

“You will divide into groups of three to six ascendants after I have finished speaking. Then your looting will begin. If you capture what is known as the King Swag Token, you get automatic immunity, which you will want to defend. Otherwise, what you have looted will be weighed at the end, and the two teams with the lowest scores will be eliminated. It’s as simple as that, really. Raid the towers, fight any enemies that present themselves, loot to your hearts’ content, and be prepared to fight one another.”

Sounds easy enough…

“Finally, you cannot actually kill each other on this floor. But if you drop to zero HP, a portion of the loot your team has in relation to the number of ascendants will be stripped from your team, and you will lose any Lyra that you currently have. Not only that, you will be put in a thirty-minute cooldown in which you won’t be able to fight. Be wary of this.” Kandor placed his hands behind his back, and lowered his head. “I wish all of you luck. You will have ten minutes to formulate your teams. Choose wisely.”

****

Clovis turned to me as soon as the Tower Keeper was gone. “We’re going to be partners, right?”

“What?” I asked, a bit thrown off by this question, the spellbook referring to Kandor’s directions to divide into teams of three to six. Clovis was my ride or die, whether I liked it or not. Yet looking at the other ascendants made it painfully clear why he had asked this.

They all had started to gravitate away from us.

“You and me. We’re teaming up, right?” Clovis seemed to shrink into himself before me as he asked this, and once again, I got this feeling that he’d been left in the cold before.

“You’re goddamn right we’re teaming up, Clovers. We just need to find ourselves a few badasses, and then we’ll get to raiding and looting.” I looked for Emiko and waved at her. “Ah, looks like we found our team.”

Alongside Clovis, I approached Emiko and Nanny the troll, who were now partnered up with Bobby Bad Fingers and Kandi, as well as two female ascendants I hadn’t met yet, both of whom had a goth thing going on. The woman on the left wore bone armor, her crown with horns on it, her eyes red behind the skull mask. Spooky, I guess. The woman was in an armored uniform with sharp lines, black with red accents, form-fitting, her dark hair pulled back and some of it hairsprayed to her forehead in a web-like pattern.

“Who are you?” Clovis asked the woman in the bone armor.

Her counterpart answered for her. “She’s Erla, and she’s never said a word to me, so I doubt she’ll say a word to you, book.”

“Did you all like Halloween back in our world?” Clovis asked, which was a snarky question to ask them yet clearly not the angle he was going for. As usual, Clovis was being his genuine self.

The second woman’s lips curled. “What do you mean?”

“I was just wondering. My favorite holiday is Valentine’s Day, not because I ever have a real Valentine—”

“Jesus Christ, Clovers, let’s not go there…”

“—But because I like the candy hearts, and after, when all the boxes of chocolate go on sale.  That’s all. So, the bone lady is Erla, and you are?”

“Alison.” Something akin to insect skin traced across her face, flaring up for a moment and settling. Whatever it was, it gave me the heebie-jeebies.

“Let’s not get too testy.” Bobby Bad Fingers stepped up, his hood over his head. “Sorry fellas, we already have a crew.”

“What gives, Bobby? You robbed us back there in the Endless Desert.” It was unfortunate that these were the first words out of my mouth and not something a little bit cooler, but I don’t often confront the people that have robbed me in the past, and I really didn’t know what to say.

Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, there was Clovis: “Bobby, you piece of dung beetle shit. You shouldn’t steal from friends.”

“Kandi, you’ve got a fan.” The vampiric dryad, who used to be an Atlanta-based stripper, turned to us. Clovis swooped up, as if he were swooning to some degree.

“Clovis, Randy,” she said, a less-than-amused look on her face.

Clovis cleared his throat. “Hey, Kandi. How are you? I’ve been thinking about you. I mean, I thought about when Bobby robbed us and you didn’t stop him, and I was wondering why. Maybe we could float over here and talk about it. You don’t seem like the stealing type. You were so friendly and nice back in the Endless Desert.”

“Please shut up,” I said under my breath, wishing I could nudge the spellbook with my elbow in that moment.

A wry smile traced across Kandi’s face. She approached Clovis, and lifted a gloved hand toward him. “You are a strange one, aren’t you?”

“I…” If a spellbook can go pale, Clovis went pale. “I…”

“We’re looking for some partners. Teams of three to six, that’s what the fox said. God, I’m good.” I offered Emiko what was akin to a pleading look. We keep seeming to end up together anyway. If there was anyone I’d want to do this challenge with, it would be her, especially after seeing her fight.

The goblin never made eye contact with me.

“Intake.” Hearing the dark elf’s voice caused me to tense up. Lothan now stood to my left, the dark elf with his hair slicked back, runeish eyes as creepy as ever. “I have a group. You can join it.” He motioned to a spellsword in fur robes and the armored-up mountain of a woman with the great sword on her back.

“You’re going to join up with him?” Clovis asked, shifting out of whatever spell Kandi had put him under. The vampiric dryad had since stepped away, back to her group of six.

“Yes, he is. And only him. We have no room for a useless spellbook.” Throwing me completely off guard, Lothan placed a hand on my shoulder, the runes in his pupils starting to rotate. “Isn’t that right, intake?”

I’d never been hypnotized before; I was barely certain that was what was even taking place as tunnel vision set in, and weird ideas came to me.

You should team up with him…

He always wins…

He’s not going to lose this challenge…

Clovis holds you back…

It was Emiko who snapped me out of it, the goblin on the periphery, her spear drawn and pointed at Lothan. I suddenly remembered who he was, and what the dark elf had done. Finally able to whip my shoulder away from him.

I rejoined Clovis.

“Your loss,” Lothan said as he stepped away.

“Randy?”

“I’m here,” I told the spellbook, still slightly agitated. How powerful was Lothan? Had I seriously almost joined up with this story’s resident douchebag?

“Um, I think we have a problem.”

It became clear as I took a look around that everyone had teamed up now. My eyes landed on Rob Blastforge, the dragonkin who had already partnered up with a trio of run-of-the-mill swordsmen. I tried not to look at him with desperation, but in the end it didn’t really matter.

“You know what, mates…” Rob looked at the nondescript swordsmen around him and shrugged. “I’ll be seeing your lot on the other side.” He stepped over to us with a toothy grin on his face. “Randy, Clovis. Let’s do this for Apollos. That wee rapping bastard didn’t deserve to die.”

“We’ll be number one!” Clovis said, the spellbook suddenly elated to the point that he had puffed up.

The smile on Rob’s face began to fade. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, lads.”

****

Of all things, the sound of a giant dinner bell let us know that our twelve hours on the fourth floor had officially begun. While the other groups started to move away in search of the King Swag, Bobby Bad Fingers and the five that had joined him had other plans.

“We’re real sorry to have to do this, fellas, but you three are about to get fingered.” The rogue halfling drew his daggers. “Don’t take it personally.”

I glanced at Emiko, who stood behind Bobby with a look of shame on her face. Bobby, Kandi the vampire stripper, Nanny, and the two new ascendants we’d recently met, silent Erla and her creepy counterpart, Alison, stepped forward. Emiko remaining behind.

“Do you guys want to join up now?” asked Clovis, not at all getting a read on the situation. “Because I don’t think we’re allowed to.”

“No, mate, they don’t want to join up.” Rob flourished both his jagged swords. “And I’m not going down without a bloody fight! For glory!” The dragonkin shot forward, twisting into the group with his tail and then following up with his swords, which Kandi blocked using a stake she’d grown out of the palms of her hands.

“We’re up, Clovis!” I hit the Rage button, the power rippling through me just as I met the halfling rogue. He was fast, but I was a goddamn Barbarian, which I used to my advantage as I smacked one of his daggers away. “Finger that, Bobby!”

Sssssssssshhhhssss!

My eyes sizzled and I couldn’t see any longer, my face on fire, everything suddenly black.

I swung my axe blindly as I tried to find my footing.

“Argh! You fucking asshole!” This voice belonged to Bobby Bad Fingers, and judging by the pressure on the end of my axe, I’d managed to get a hit in. My other hand instinctively went to my eyes as I kept swinging, not certain of what had happened. It was like I’d been hit with acid.

“I’ll save you, Randy!”

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAMMMMMMMMMMM!

Clovis blasted off, but judging by the sound of female laughter, he didn’t hit much. My vision still obscured, I tripped over my own feet, only for one of the women to get on top of me. By the weight I could tell it wasn’t Nanny the troll; I also heard her whip, which told me she was engaging either Clovis or Rob.

“I’m sorry to have to do this.”

Kandi, I thought, coming to the instant conclusion that she was about to give me the lap dance of death. Axl Rose was ripped from my hand as roots began to tear from the soil. At first, they merely bound me, but then they started to tighten, everything flashing red.

“You… you… bitch…” I managed to say with my last few breaths.

This caused her to laugh. “Sometimes it’s a bitches’ world, honey.”

Snap!

I shouldn’t have heard my own neck snap, and I likely wouldn’t have had I not found myself suddenly standing next to Kandi and my own dead body.

It was that fast.

I was dead, and currently in the cooldown mode which cast me as a specter who could witness what was going on, but not take part in it for the next thirty minutes.

Horror mixed with a weird hint of arousal as Kandi bent forward, straddling me as she drank my blood. Erla the bone mage made no signs that she was going to attack, the woman keeping her place next to Emiko the goblin, who still held her head in shame. Rob swung his swords as best he could, but was quickly overpowered once Nanny managed to grab one of his weapons with her whip.

That’s who was spitting venom, I thought as Alison the non-bone armored gothy ascendant opened her mouth, venom spraying onto Rob’s eyes.

I turned my head as Nanny jumped into the air and stomped Rob’s face in. The dragonkin appeared next to me, also dead.

“Aye, the fat fucker of a troll got me.”

Rob tensed. Both of us now had our weapons, and as he did so I heard the clink of his two swords. We truly were on a different plane of existence.

“Everyone stop,” Kandi said after she’d finally gotten off my body, blood trickling down her chin. The dryad vampire turned to Clovis, who gripped his sword tightly with one magical hand, his pages in disarray.

“You… you killed my friends!” Clovis bolted toward Kandi, only to be struck down by Erla the bone mage.

The spellbook hit the dirt; Kandi placed the heel of her boot on him: “How do we kill a book?”

“That fucking book!” Bobby Bad Fingers stormed over, the halfling bleeding from where I had struck him. His clothing had bits of it that were burnt now, which told me Clovis had pinged him with a Magic Missile or two.

Alison crouched before Clovis, and as she did a long tongue fell out of her mouth.

“I… I can’t watch this.”

Rob placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll watch for you, mate. The wee one will appear here with us, and we’ll have thirty minutes in time out before we’re able to play with the big boys again. Maybe we can use this to our advantage.”

“How?” I asked as Clovis started to scream. My knuckles were white by this point. The crackle of fire brought a new sense of anger to me. Those assholes, they’re… they’re burning him alive!

I was just about to turn around when Clovis flashed in front of me.

“R-R-Randy? Is this what it’s like to be dead?”

“Clovis!” I said, relief rolling over me. I nearly gave the book a hug. Instead, I looked back to see that they had indeed torched Clovis, his tangible form still on fire, black smoke billowing off his form accented with flashes of turquoise. My body lay just a few feet away, strapped to the ground, fresh vampire bites on my neck. Then there was Rob, who was about ten feet away, Nanny still sitting on him.

Bobby Bad Fingers lifted one of his daggers into the air in celebration.

“Let them gloat for now,” Rob said in a cool, calculated way. “This challenge isn’t over yet.”

Chapter Thirty: Capture the Swag

Rob Blastforge, dragonkin to the stars, motioned for Clovis and me to follow him to the tower that Kandor had just been floating before. I remember thinking it didn’t seem that large, maybe three stories tops, not like the other drum towers scattered across the land, all of which looked more promising. Why? I couldn’t tell you, but none of the other ascendants had paid any attention to clearing this particular tower as they fanned out.

“I’ve got a keen sense for these kinds of things, a sense aided by something Apollos left to me, of course.” Rob pulled his sleeve up to show us a bracelet lined with sparkling charms, the kind of thing someone would get for their mother-in-law from the Swarovski store at the Woodburn Premium Outlets. “Gives me 25% chance to find the best loot. Add that to my luck—”

“Dang, you got a Luck Token?” Clovis asked, the spellbook semi-transparent at the moment. I didn’t need to ask Lily to tell me how much longer we had in the cooldown zone; a clock had appeared beneath my health bar, currently at about the twenty-seven-minute mark.

“A luck charm. And we won’t need to go far to get that King Swag. I can feel it, lads. Thank you again, Apollos. He had to seduce a hamstress there in Hamsterdam to get the charm. I think he made it with her; don’t know.”

“Did you say hamstress? Wasn’t he a bird?”

Clovis scoffed at this remark. “Love always finds a way, Randy. And he was a rapping bird, if anything. There’s a difference.”

Rather than open the door of the tower, Rob floated inside, Clovis and Yours Truly following behind him. It was at this point that I also realized I was floating, or that I could if I wanted to, which was pretty awesome even if I was stuck in a ghost state for the time being.

There were guards inside the drum tower, ones that looked like your typical Saxon warrior in head to toe armor, helmets with nose guards, the heavily armed NPCs all gathered around a trap door in the center of the room.

“Ah, yes. The best things are always hidden in plain sight. Come on, boys, let’s see what is down there.” Rob dove straight into the floor.

“Do you think he was a swimmer back in the real world?”

“No telling,” I said as I too dove into the trap door.

We appeared in a narrow chamber lit by candles. There were old statues in one corner, some of their faces missing. I paid little attention to these statues once I saw the enormous golden treasure box positioned at the back of the room.

“And that would be it, boys. Now, all we have to do is sit down here and wait to respawn. Then we’ll nab the King Swag, and hell, maybe even stay put down here. The guards up there can fend off any intruders, and if any of the others do figure it out, we’ll have an immediate advantage.”

Just to be sure the King Swag Token was in the treasure box, I pushed my head into its surface and saw the token, which was sphere-shaped. “Confirmed. It’s in here, all right.”

Rob floated down to the dirt floor. He looked like he wanted to sit, but doing so didn’t seem possible unless he wanted to merge into the ground. “Well, mates, I’m going to get a bit of rest while we wait to respawn. I’ll see ya in a bit. Good night.”

“Can ghosts sleep?” Clovis asked me.

“No idea but… let’s give him some space.” The two of us moved further into the underground chamber, to a spot that had a few mats on the ground covered in quilts, and a small wooden table against the stone wall. It was a few minutes before Clovis spoke.

“So…”

“Yeah?” I asked the spellbook, who was now hovering in front of me.

“Have you gotten any inspiration?”

“Inspiration for what exactly?”

“You said that you were in a deprivation tank trying to get inspiration for your novels—which mostly just sounds claustrophobic—and now, you’re here. So I’m asking: did you get the inspiration you wanted? Are you ready to pen your next epic? To take your place at the top of the fantasy genre with the Moorcocks and Rothfusses?”

“I always giggle when I hear that first name that you mentioned. Sorry. I shouldn’t, but I’m only human. Aside from that, I don’t really write epic fantasy, but…” I shrugged, and it was a good shrug, the shrug of a person who had accepted their lot in life and was more or less happy with the choices they’d made. “Writing hasn’t really crossed my mind.”

“You aren’t thinking about writing any of this?” he asked, a little surprised. “It would make a great LitRPG if it was crunchier.”

“Write about Genera as a whole? No, I’m not planning anything like that. I never really liked those kinds of stories where the main character gets inspiration from the story itself to later tell the story. There’s probably a better way to describe it than that, but yeah, that is way too meta for my taste. If anything, I suppose I’ve got some good ideas for new elven races, and Hamsterdam was bonkers and could be fun to base something on, but then again, people might just think I’m out of my mind for writing about bipedal hamsters.”

“Apollos made love to a hamstress, at least that’s what I heard.”

“I heard the same thing. We were together when Rob said that.”

“I’m still trying to understand the mechanics of that.”

I squinted at the spellbook. “Maybe don’t?”

“Maybe you should write about that.”

“Furry stuff? Or, I guess, feathery stuff? Pass. Look, I’m sure I’ll write about something if I ever get out of here. I just don’t know what yet. I’ve been writing for almost two decades now, and it is sort of all I did in my previous life, to the point that I was as much part of the worlds I was building as I was part of the real world. I’d even talk to Chelsea about these worlds as if they were real.” I huffed. “I mean, I must have sounded crazy, or I would have to any other person, talking about my characters and whatnot, if Chelsea herself wasn’t a writer.”

“The dungeoncore or your ex-wife?”

“Ex-wife, Clovers, keep up. The dungeoncore’s name was Dinnymatt. Or Mattdinny. I can’t remember.”

“Thorgrim will never see her again, poor gnoblin.”

“He had it coming. Regarding my ex—Chelsea was a writer. She wrote urban fantasy and romance under pen names. She was good, cunning as well when it came to business dealings. We basically lived off her royalties. Mine were just there to add fun to an equation whenever they came.”

“A writer marrying a writer. Where have I heard that is a bad idea?”

“From me. From anyone who knows how writers are. If anything, a writer should marry an editor, one that trusts the writer. Then they can tag team a manuscript and save cash on the production side.”

Clovis nodded. “If I ever become a writer, I’ll be sure not to marry another writer. You’re full of wisdom today, Angel Farts.”

“Randy.”

“The noun, not the adjective.”

“You’re finally catching on.”

“Personally, I prefer Angel Farts. And it goes without saying that I think you should start writing again. It’s what you were put in Genera to do.”

“We were put here to climb a tower and try not to die in the process,” I reminded the spellbook. “Other than that, we don’t know why we were brought here.”

I grew quiet for a moment as I thought about some of the things Clovis had just said. I definitely didn’t want to write about Genera if I ever got out of here, but maybe I could take inspiration from some of the floors and the upper realms, if we ever reached them. Something that I’d thought about earlier came to me, and since we had some downtime, I figured I could do it now.

“Lil-Lil,” I said upon turning away from Clovis, “I’ve been wanting to rework my currency screen. I want to take away all the digital currencies aside from Harmon Tokens and LyraCoin. Add lyra to the list, and I guess Hamster Coins as well. I’m starting my own personal exchange. You can do something like this, right?”

<I can do a lot of things. How does this look?>

Harmon Token_ _ _ _ _ 929,673

Ruby Hamster Coin_ _ _ _ _ 0

Gold Hamster Coin_ _ _ _ _ 0

Silver Hamster Coin_ _ _ _ _ 0

Bronze Hamster Coin_ _ _ _ _ 0

LyraCoin_ _ _ _ _ 0

Lyra_ _ _ _ _ 0

“That’s more like it. I probably should have customized that earlier on, but here we are. Once we get to more currencies, we can consolidate the Hamster Coins. But there is New Hamsterdam, and it may be a way to store value. I don’t know. I’m really bad with money.”

Clovis laughed. “We are so broke it’s not even funny.”

“Not on paper, we’re not. One of these days, we’re going to be able to exchange all these Harmon Tokens. When that day comes, believe me, Clovers, we’ll be the ones laughing all the way to the bank.”

“Like a couple of rich Killer McShits.”

“Sure, just like that.”

****

We decided to stay put after our respawn rather than risk being discovered, or for that matter, slaughtered outside of the underground chamber. There were still NPC guards above us—I could hear them walking—and we had a few tricks up our sleeves in case we were discovered. For one, I had the Potion of Invulnerability Token, which would last for two minutes. I’d already promised to hand this over to Rob if we heard anything upstairs; he was the strongest of the three of us, and the King Swag, our instant ticket out of here, was in his inventory list.

Did I trust Rob? Sure, I did. There was no question that the Scottish dragonkin was loyal and meant well, but there was always the chance he would be an opponent in the future, and since his loss of Apollos, he was reluctant to join any guilds. (Trust me, we’d already asked him)

Our arrangement would do for now, and as long as we held onto our King Swag Token, we were good.

“I’m bored, Randy.”

“I know you’re bored,” I told the spellbook, who now rested on the ground, splayed open, a turquoise ring of energy radiating around him. He’d been like that for the last hour, and had announced his boredom every five minutes. “How much longer again?”

“You have a clock too.”

“Over ten hours, wee one,” said Rob, who was on his knees now cleaning his weapons. He was way better at this sort of thing than I was. I could see that now, and it made me want to get better with my gear as well. This was why I equipped Axl Rose in my hands and was currently using a pillowcase to smooth some oil he’d given me over the blade. I wanted to look professional, and maybe feel it too.

“Ten hours. Ugh. I wish we could binge watch something. Too bad there aren’t streaming services here in Genera.”

“That would definitely pass the time,” I told the spellbook. “Just try to sleep.”

“You know that weird thing where you try to sleep, but you can’t because you’re thinking too much about trying to sleep? That’s what’s happening to me at the moment.”

“It’ll be over soon enough,” said Rob. “We are missing out on the glory, but we’re also staying alive, and no one has yet to discover this little tower of ours.”

“There were lots of towers out there. I counted a hundred.”

I shook my head at Clovis’ statement. “No, you didn’t.”

“I was looking around while the kitsune was telling us the rules. There were at least a hundred.”

“I’m just surprised none of them have a token that will help them discover the loot,” said Rob. “We lucked out there, we did.”

I thought of Lothan the dark elf and the Luck Token he’d robbed from me. The fact that he hadn’t found us yet didn’t mean the token didn’t work, it likely had more to do with his build. I don’t know why the other ascendants hadn’t found us, but there was probably a similar reason.

Unless…

Unless they know where we are holed up and they are simply leveling and looting until the final hour…

I sure as shit hoped this wasn’t the case.

“That looks about right,” Rob said as he examined one of his serrated blades.

“Do you have a Crafting Token?”

“I do. Most ascendants I’ve met have them,” he told Clovis. “It is one of the first things people get outside the tower. Being able to craft makes looting more worth your while. That’s how I got this armor,” he motioned to his unique armor, which had a rainbow-like sheen to it even though it was mostly black. “That, and me swords. But you can only do so much with the system here. Want to improve your weapon even more? Find a smith. There’s a good one in Hamsterdam named Hamry.”

“Rodentia?” I asked.

“He’s there, yeah. Got blootered there after Apollos died and stumbled into her shop. That’s how to improve yer weapon to take a rune, through a smith. Got a rune yet?”

“I wonder if a smith could improve me…”

Clovis’ comment caused Rob to laugh. “Unless you want to be a metal book, I don’t think so. But who am I to tell ya otherwise? None of this makes any sense anyway.”

“What do runes do?” I asked. “I mean, I’m guessing they just give buffs to your weapons.”

“Eh?”

“Power-ups, stat increases.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Extra powers, the more the merrier, if you ask me. Any of you hungry? I could go for some scran. Pass the time.”

“I’ve got some snack packs.”

Rob nodded at me. “From one of the cats?”

“That’s right.”

“It’ll do. I’ve got some myself. Have a little hamster juice too.”

After returning Axl Rose to its breakaway sheath, I joined Rob. “Really? When did you get hamster juice?”

“Apollos had some on him, the wee bastard liked the stuff. This batch isn’t too strong.” Rob equipped a snack pack and a small sippy cup of hamster juice.

I recalled how manic the juice made me feel and declined.

“Suit yourself; more for me.”

We ate our snacks, Rob washing his down with hamster juice. “That’s the stuff,” he said once we’d both finished. “Now I’ll be up for the next hour.” He got to his feet, swayed a moment, and then started pacing. “Feel free to rest, lads. We’ve only got a little less than ten hours in this dirty hole in the ground.”

Clovis started to snore, as if on cue, which caused both Rob and me to laugh.

“The wee one gets it,” he said. Some shuffling upstairs caused silence to wash over both of us. The shuffling stopped, and as it did it felt as if the oxygen had returned to the underground chamber. “I was ready there for a minute,” Rob said, a sudden hunger in his eyes. “Looks like we’re good for now.”

****

Dreams a-plenty. Most of them centered on modified things that had already happened to us, like the time we’d battled the giant ogre, or when I had to seduce the dungeoncore, or Clovis’ terrible observational humor. How long ago was all of that? It felt like weeks, but in portal fantasy reality, it was just about twenty chapters or so, not very long in the scheme of things.

“Randy?”

“Wha-a?” I asked, coming awake to see the spellbook floating over me. Another thing caught my eye—there were only four hours left until we completed this floor. I had been out for a while!

“Isn’t he cute?”

“What the hell are you talking about, Clovis?”

“Rob. Look at the cute dragon resting.”

I slowly sat up, hamster beanie on my head. I kept meaning to unequip it but never got around to it. I glanced over to Rob to see him curled up with his tail, the underside of which was the color of mustard. I wouldn’t describe him as cute, but he did look comfortable.

“For fuck’s sake, Clovis.”

“Just a wee little drag-un,” he said, the spellbook trying for a Scottish accent.

“A wee little dragon with an insane pair of swords. Did you really need to wake me up to tell me Rob looked cute sleeping?”

“I was bored, too. That’s mostly why I woke you up. Look at us, a pair of Killer McShits slaying this tower with a British dragon.”

“Don’t call him British to his face, Clovers. Word to the wise.”

One of Clovis’s pages started to fall out of his form, and was quickly sucked back in. “But seriously, I never thought I’d be a spellbook partnered with a real barbarian of a writer. How cool is this?”

I couldn’t help but smirk at him. I now sat with my back against the wall, the blanket that I’d slept on cast over my knees. “Things are looking up but… there’s something you should know.”

“I already know you saw me.”

“Come again?”

“I know you saw me, and I’m fine with it. I’m a spellbook now. I can sleep with a goblin doll.”

“I didn’t see you sleeping with your doll,” I told him, recalling the green goblin he’d forced me to purchase from one of the bakeneko brothers.

“Well, I was.”

“Sleep with whatever you want, aside from a particular dryad vampire. I can tell you that will end in trouble if you go down that route. What I’m trying to tell you is about the tower. I don’t know how much you’ve been paying attention—no disrespect in saying it like this either—but according to Lily, only one ascendant can reach the top. So we’re a guild now, and as far as I can see we will be through all seven realms, but if we play by the rules of the tower, only one of us can actually win.”

“And the other dies?” he asked, his voice thinning.

“I think. Actually, I don’t know. I really don’t know what it means to become part of the ‘synthetic reality’ in the first place. But the way I see it, if we are somehow lucky enough to reach the top, both of us are walking away from this tower. You better believe we’ll have options. Option one? Start the tower over. Two? Go back to the real world. Three? Become a pair of ass-titted elite ascendants. Four? Build our own tower. You and me, Clovers, we’re going to get through this.”

“And become billionaires.”

I started to laugh, but then I wondered if he was mocking me in his own way. I never could tell. “Who cares about money at this point? We still seem to be surviving; sometimes, that’s all that matters.”

“I thought that money was all you cared about.”

“What? No. Fuck no. Sure, I care about money, but I also think… I just think about all this, and how we’ve gotten by without it, even if I have a huge load of Harmon Tokens, and maybe it isn’t as important as I once thought it was.”

“What are Harmon Tokens anyway? Or did you already explain that to me?”

“Funny story, actually. This writer named Harmon Cooper tried to launch a book series alongside Harmon Tokens. People didn’t care, but then, he died on a rocket ship to Mars, and the tokens suddenly became worth something. The Harmon Tokens I have, and that everyone that lost money with me has, aren’t the actual tokens. They’re a new one, created just before the author’s death. This is why the price dropped so substantially. Of course, I didn’t know this at the time I bought them.”

“So you weren’t trying to capitalize off his death?”

“No, I’m not that terrible of a person. I only learned more about the situation after I bought them, and I should clarify, I bought them before he died. As you know, I have nearly a million of these tokens, and for a moment, it looked like they were going to reach one dollar a piece. One dollar, Clovers! Some people thought they could reach ten dollars a token. But then he died, and the news leaked that they were all fake. And here we are.”

“Did you say he died in a rocket explosion?”

“Weird, right? He tried to 3-D print a rocket ship to take him to Mars, and surprise, surprise, that didn’t work. I guess the lesson here is don’t 3-D print a rocket ship. Maybe a second point would be not to travel to Mars. I don’t know.”

“Harmon… wait! WAIT! I know who that is. Mitherfickers—I got the guild name from one of his books, Fantasy Online.”

“Interesting. Never read that one. Never really read any of his stuff, to be honest, aside from Cowboy Necromancer, and only because the trip I took with my ex to Santa Fe for our honeymoon got me interested in the Southwest.”

“So…” Clovis tilted back, as if he were squinting at me. “To get back to the crypto, all the Harmon Tokens you have are fake.”

“No, they’re real, or let me rephrase, they’re fake. All digital currencies are fake, so even though they’re not the original tokens, they are still as fake as the original ones, if you think about it, regardless of the various blockchains they’re held on and the supposed legitimacy this brings them.”

Clovis swelled up. “I am honored to be entrusted with such a big secret. If you ever do find someone to take Harmon Tokens, how are you going to stop me from telling them? It’s probably too late to mention that I’m bad with secrets.”

“Firstly, I’ll already have LyraCoin when we reach that point. Harmon Tokens exchange for LyraCoin, which is a stable coin pegged to lyra, the actual currency of Genera, even if various floors have their own currencies. Needless to say, the legitimacy of the tokens will be lost in the sauce.”

“It’s a foolproof plan, Randy, it really is. And I will try my best to keep the secret.”

“Please do.”

“Lily knows now.”

“Lily, don’t tell anyone.”

<Mum’s the word. And to be frank, I really don’t care about your currency-swapping dreams.>

Clovis’ magical hand lifted out of his form so he could give me the thumbs up. “We are a pair of smart mitherfickers, aren’t we?”

“I… I wouldn’t go that far. But it’s a solid plan. We just need to find someone to exchange it.”

“I’m sure we will. One more question.”

“What’s that?” I asked the spellbook.

“How much longer do we have to wait?”

“You have a clock on your display, Clovis.”

****

Time flew by, and even as it came to the last thirty minutes or so before the fourth-floor challenge would officially end, I couldn’t shake this feeling that things were about to take a turn for the worse.

Because they always did.

We’d survived the fourth floor in the easiest way possible after our initial confrontation with the other ascendants. Things had to give. Clovis didn’t seem to think so, and Rob had told me an hour ago that we were in the clear. Yet I knew this wasn’t going to be the case once I heard some scuffling start up above us.

A body hit the floor, Rob quickly drawing both his swords. “Maybe Randy was right all along…” he said, this statement followed by muffled shouts.

“Rob, let me give you…”

“We’ll be fine,” he said, which was probably the right thing to say to me at the moment. Rob was a higher level than me; not only that, the potion only lasted for two minutes, and using it would force him to fall into a coma for ten minutes afterward.

I went ahead and mentally sent my single Potion of Invulnerability to my quicklist.

I heard a muffled shout, then a voice I recognized, one with a European accent: “I’m going down! You two stay here.”

Lothan… I brought my axe to the ready just as the trap door above us swung open. Lothan rode the ladder down into the basement like a fireman, the dark elf immediately drawing his magical rapier as he met Rob.

“I’m going to Magic Missile him!” Clovis shouted, the spellbook charging.

I stepped in front of him. “No, not in such a confined place. Rob… Rob has got this.”

Their blades met, and while Lothan should have been outmatched by Rob’s two larger and more intimidating swords, the dark elf managed to hold his own with his rapier. His runic eyes glowing, Lothan jumped over Rob’s next attack; he brought the tip of his sword across the dragonkin’s snout, Rob stifling a shout of pain. He tried to overpower Lothan using his sheer size and tail, but Lothan had the advantage after his single attack, and moved quickly enough to bring his rapier through the center of Rob’s body.

“The King Swag, please,” he said as Rob dropped both his swords and let out a death gasp. Lothan looked at me, a wicked grin on his face, the token instantly transferred to him. “You should have joined my team, intake.”

Lothan withdrew his rapier. The dark elf moved rapidly to the ladder.

“Let’s get him!” I shouted to Clovis.

I went to throw my axe at Lothan, but I was shoved aside by Clovis, who bolted right past me and up to the room above, hot on Lothan’s tail. “We’ll get it back,” I promised the ghost of Rob, who I knew was watching us at that moment, likely pissed as hell that he had been bested by Lothan.

I powered up the ladder myself, and immediately found myself engaging the swordmage and the heavily armored woman with the greatsword that had joined Lothan. The sword mage blew me back with an open palm, my clothing igniting and quickly settling.

Keeping my eye on the prize—which happened to be Lothan, who had just burst out of the tower—I summoned my Paper Crane Talisman Token, which released a wave of paper cranes at my two assailants. It was enough to at least confuse them for a moment, which gave me time to slip out a window and fall into a patch of thorns. “Dammit, dammit, dammit…” I ignored my health bar I pushed out of the thorns and spotted Clovis, who was still chasing after Lothan, firing off Magic Missiles. I took off running, and met them just as Lothan tried to swat Clovis out of the air.

Clank!

Our weapons met, and I triggered my Rage power just as soon as I could. I thought this would allow me to overpower Lothan, and it did to some degree, but he was uncannily quick, and it was only a second or two later that he slipped to my side and jabbed me with his rapier.

It hurt like hell, but I managed to swing Axl Rose at him and cause the dark elf to stagger back. Still raging, and now with a fresh wound in my side, I exploded toward Lothan, a wave of energy following my next attack.

I wish it had landed, but the dark elf was already beside me, just about to jab me again with his rapier when Clovis came in swinging. The spellbook engaged Lothan, and was quickly shot backward by a burst of dark energy from the elf’s palm.

I seized this opportunity to jump back into the fray, going toe-to-toe with Lothan, overpowering him yet again.

I just needed to keep this up; I just needed to make sure he couldn’t land a fatal blow.

I triggered the Potion of Invulnerability, moments before Lothan managed to land his next attack, going for a jab that would have gouged me through my eye and out the back of my hamster beanie had it not been for the potion. The tip of Lothan’s rapier bounced off my face, this sensation coming as a surprise to the dark elf. I used this to my advantage. I began hacking away at him, full on Rage, invulnerable as I did so.

“Not so lucky now, are you!” I shouted as I delivered the final blow, one that split into the center of his forehead, blood spritzing the air.

Lily told me that I had received the King Swag, but by this point I was thoroughly focused on our surroundings. Several of the other ascendants were on the periphery now, moving in, aware that I had the token.

Not only that, I was about to be in a coma for ten minutes due to the potion’s after effects.

“Randy?” Clovis asked, the spellbook next to me now, charging up. “What do we do now?”

I nodded, determined to see this through. “I hope… I hope you are ready to run, Clovers, and by run, I mean fly.”

Chapter Thirty-One: Against All Odds

Fly, Clovis, fly! I thought after telling Lily to transfer the King Swag Token to the spellbook. This turned out to be unnecessary considering we had access to each other’s inventory lists, but I had to be sure just in case. The spellbook was our only hope at this point, Rob Blastforge in the penalty box, and my writerly ass mere moments away from slipping into a coma because of the invulnerability potion.

Clovis took to the sky just as Emiko reached me, the Japanese goblin with her spear drawn, her brow furrowed.

I brought Axl Rose to the ready.

“Give me the token,” Emiko said, her eyes flaring up. “Give it to me now.”

“Over my dead body.”

She glanced at Lothan's corpse, his head split open to the point that I wished I could have taken a screenshot for the next time he would inevitably try to come back at me. At least this one time I’d fought back and actually won. It felt good, good enough that I was able to temporarily ignore the numbness slowly spreading up my legs, Clovis now high enough in the air that I couldn’t see him.

Just need to distract them for a little longer…

My how time passes when you’re fighting assholes. There were less than ten minutes left before the fourth-floor challenge was complete. We would take the top reward, as long as Clovis stayed out of sight.

You’ve got this, Clovers, I thought as I went in for an attack on Emiko.

I didn’t want to; I really didn’t want to, reader. I liked the lady goblin, and it was clear just about twelve hours ago that she wasn’t keen to fight me either. But it was the distraction we needed, and if I could just hold her off…

More tingling in my legs as I hit the Rage button, which I hoped might prolong my incoming coma. It was a risk, but at least I couldn’t die, and if it was like taking an upper and a downer at the same time, I was ready.

After all, I had drunk hamster juice.

Emiko thrust her spear forward, blocking my attack with the staff. She tried to sweep my legs out; I jumped and attempted to come down onto her spear with my stompers. I could sense the power twisting within me, and I had a feeling if I had hit her spear at the right angle I would have snapped it in half.

The lady goblin attempted to strike me again, this time with the bottom of her weapon. I stepped around her and brought my elbow across the back of her shoulders.

“Give us the token!” Bobby Bad Fingers charged in my direction. Even as more numbness came over me, I brought my axe in a horizontal arc, cutting one of his daggers out of his hands in the process. “My fingers! You… you son of a bitch!”

Enraged, Bobby dove toward me, only to meet a knee to the chin. I hacked at his back once he hit the ground, the rogue halfling screaming as Emiko came in yet again for an attack, the goblin finally going with the pointy side of her spear. She ran it right through me, my body tensing as it went into shock, numbness continuing to set in, everything fading.

The coma overtook me. The last thing I remembered seeing was Bobby lying next to me, bleeding out, an angry grimace on the halfling’s face and Emiko standing over me with her spear, ready to end it all.

“Do it…” I whispered through bloody teeth, feeling like an utter badass. “I dare you…”

Schhhwip.

Lights out.

****

What happened next was a whirlwind of activity as the ascendants searched frantically for the King Swag Token.

“That was bloody brilliant,” said Rob the dragonkin, who now stood beside me in his ghost form. “Brilliant! Hand it off to the wee one, and none are the wiser. Only a few more minutes to go.”

“I can’t believe we’re actually going to win this thing.”

“Not used to taking the trophy, are ya, mate?”

I turned to the dragonkin, who was giving me a very toothy grin. “Not as of late. We usually seem to barely get by.”

“Where the hell is it?” Bobby Bad Fingers screamed. The halfling rogue had consumed a healing potion and was looking better now. This was sort of a waste considering there were only a few minutes left, but he’d probably stolen it from someone anyway. “Clovis!” he shouted, his hands cuffed around his mouth, fingers partially healed. “Come down here, wherever you are, friend. I want to… I want to hear some of your amazing jokes!”

I could see Lothan’s ghost form standing around as well, a scowl on his face. He purposely wouldn’t make eye contact with me at the moment, something that Rob picked up on. “The howlin’ arsehole. Ya love to see it, ya really do. I was furious there for a moment, after he took me life. But what ya did? Glad I got to see that, I am. Some headache he’s going to have when he respawns.”

“I hope.”

Rob and I chatted a bit more, mostly commenting on the other ascendants who were frantically searching for Clovis. A timer appeared, letting everyone know there was one minute left.

I watched it tick down with pride.

“Time to get our flowers,” Rob said as the final few seconds flashed away, signaling the end of the challenge.

All the ascendants in our pod stopped what they were doing, their bodies fading away. We all reformed with our weapons sheathed in a wide open space with towering rocks around it, sort of a Stonehenge vibe, Clovis suddenly to my left.

“We did it, didn’t we?” he asked, the spellbook turning to me as Kandor appeared.

“The fourth-floor challenge is complete! Before we get into the leaderboard, we will award the highest honors to the group that has the King Swag Token. Please, step forward.”

Clovis, Rob, and I shifted to the center, as if there was a platform beneath us. We turned to our peers. Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention; I looked down to see Rob giving all the other ascendants the middle finger, an even toothier grin on his face as he did so, his dragon tail lightly lifting up and down with pleasure.

The King Swag Token appeared; Kandor motioned to it, and as he did the piece filtered away.

Points!

You have gained a level! You have reached the tier known as New Blood! You have received the Achievement Token.

Additional boosts have been automatically unlocked through the Achievement Token.

+3 Strength!

+2 Stamina

+3 Skill Points!

+5% Health Regen!

(New achievement!) By the Hair on your Beardy, Beard, Beard: 5% boost in natural luck in any situation going forward.

Floor reward: Bag of Mystery Token

Race: Human

Class: Barbarian

Name: Randy Lionheart

Level: 10

Tier: New Blood

HP: 35/35

MP: 7/7

Intelligence: 11

Perception: 9

Stamina: 20

Strength: 31

Dexterity: 15

Defense: 19

Health Regen: 20% per hour

MP Regen: 20% per hour

Skill Points: 4

Armor: Basic Gnome Wear, Elven Jock Strap

Weapons: Axl Rose

Accessories: Pinky Ring, Hamsterdamian Metal Glove, Hamster Beanie

It was a lot to take in. I had briefly wondered if Genera had a sort of achievement notice that came coupled with bonuses, and was glad to see that it did. Naturally, I focused on The Bag of Mystery Token, giving it a quick peek as Kandor continued to speak.

Bag of Mystery Token (Legendary)

Who knows what it will do? Use at your discretion.

My discretion, huh?

“I got a level, Randy,” Clovis said, the spellbook buzzing with excitement.

“Did you see the token we got?”

“Ya received a token?” asked Rob, eliciting a throat noise from Kandor, who was still making his announcement. Yes, we should have been listening.

Before I could explain the token we had received, Kandor spoke to the three of us directly: “Since you are the winners of this challenge, you will be allowed to ascend to the next floor before everyone else, that is, unless you’d like to stick around and see the leaderboard.”

“Nope, don’t have time for that,” I said impulsively.

Rob nodded. “Same here. Bloody hell, no.”

“Wait—”

Clovis didn’t have the chance to finish his protest. The three of us dematerialized, our forms filtering away into a glittery nothingness.

It was that fast.

Our bodies reformed in a fog-covered forest that reminded me of Mount Tabor for some reason. We were clearly on a tree-covered hill based on the slope of the land, but I couldn’t see much beyond that, the fog obscuring everything. Not only that, Rob Blastforge was gone.

We had officially reached the fifth floor.

Clovis tilted toward me. “Um, Angel Farts?”

“Yeah?”

“We probably should have stayed back there.”

“Why?”

“To figure out who won the challenge, and who lost.”

“We won.”

“We did?” he asked, turning to me. “Just kidding. I realized that part. I meant for us to figure out who else we are up against based on their rankings. But now…”

He was right. Yet again a noob move…

“Shit, you’re not wrong, Clovers,” I finally told him. “And now we’re here. Wherever here is. Did you see the token we got?”

“No.”

“We received a Bag of Mystery Token.”

“What does it do?”

“That’s the thing, we don’t know what it does. So maybe we should be careful with it. Anyway, back to the task at hand: we have a little less than a day and a half left to beat this floor and ascend to the Second Realm. I’m guessing it’s afternoon based on the way the sun is coming through the fog.”

“You can tell that?”

“We get a lot of fog where I’m from, Clovers, like months of it. But I digress. We’re almost there, let’s figure out what we’re supposed to do here. Lil-Lil, care to chime in?”

<Kandor has already explained what will happen on this floor, had you been listening…>

“I was distracted.”

<Clearly. Anyway, welcome to the fifth floor of the First Realm. I am truly surprised you made it, but you did, and here we are. This floor puts you directly into a dispute between halflings and dwarves. The halflings live on the southern side of the outer tower, the dwarves on the northern. You are in the middle at the moment.>

“Halflings and dwarves?” Clovis asked. “What are they fighting about?”

<You are responsible for figuring that out, not me, just be warned that like most long-running disputes, it is complicated and has reached a point of pettiness that it can likely never return from. The halflings live in a large village known as Halfsville. The Dwarves live in Battledwarvo.>

“Love that name,” I said as I took Axl Rose from its breakaway sheath. “Maybe I can get this bad boy checked out there.”

“Why do you assume dwarves are blacksmiths?”

“Because they generally are? Last I checked, we are in a fantasy setting.”

“That sort of thought marginalizes people.”

I rolled my eyes at Clovis’ comment. “I mean, if you feel that way, then sure, I can rephrase it: I say we go to Battledwarvo just in case they have a blacksmith.”

<I love how you are already planning what to do without actually hearing about the challenge. Typical Angel Farts behavior.>

“Yeah, typical Angel Farts’ main character behavior. Jason was like this in your book.”

“Jasons are always like this. I’ve got a feeling I’ll end up in Battledwarvo regardless.”

<No, a barbarian like you? What would a barbarian like you do around a bunch of drunken, blacksmithing dwarves?>

“See?” I told Clovis.

<I digress. There are five ways to conquer the fifth floor. Five for five.>

For some reason, this sparked a memory: “I once shared a Five Guys meme on Facebook—or should I call it Meta, now?—with Jeffery Dahmer photoshopped into the restaurant and asking where the five guys were. Get it?” I asked Clovis.

“No.”

“He… ate them. Ugh. Nevermind. The meme got me banned for two weeks and no, I haven’t learned my lesson yet.”

<Are you finished? The amount of time the two of you waste…>

“Sorry, Lil-Lil, continue!”

<As I was saying, there are five ways to conquer the fifth floor and ascend to the Second Realm. They are as follows: One, defeat three mini-bosses; two, kill five ascendants; three… you know what? How about I just list them for you to make it easy?>

A prompt flashed before us, the numbers and text in bold print:

1)    Defeat three mini-bosses

2)    Kill five ascendants

3)    Reach the seven mana totems

4)    Solve the conflict between the halflings and dwarves

5)    Purchase ascension

<Let me answer a few questions I’ve already anticipated you will have, starting from the bottom. Yes, you can purchase ascension to the Second Realm; no, nobody around here takes crypto, and you don’t have any real money, so this one is out of the question. You aren’t going to be able to solve the conflict between the halflings and the dwarves, in my estimate. A pair of seasoned diplomats wouldn’t be able to solve the conflict. Reaching the seven mana totems is a good option, but you will have to operate on both sides of the conflict to do it. Killing five ascendants is likely not possible at your current levels, both in power and intelligence. Defeating three mini-bosses is likely your best bet because their levels are scaled to yours, meaning it will be a challenge, but it is doable.>

“I don’t know, Clovers, what are you thinking?” I asked the spellbook, who had since settled onto the ground on his spine, oblivious to the fresh dew beaded on blades of grass.

“That was the longest I’ve ever heard Lily talk.”

“Talk and throw a bit of shade, yes. But she does have a point.”

“I think the option is clear.”

“Yeah?” I asked him.

“We solve the conflict between the dwarves and the halflings.”

“That’s… that’s what you got from her explanation?” I waited for Lily to chime in, and when she didn’t, I continued: “I think the smartest thing to do would be to find and fight the mini-bosses. I can use my tracking power; you’re good at finding things.” I crouched in front of the spellbook. “Well?”

“What if… what if we split up?” Clovis rose and tilted in my direction. “I’m pretty good with halflings.”

“You’ve only met Bobby Bad Fingers.”

“But we hit it off.”

I grimaced. For fuck’s sake, Clovis, I thought through a painful smile.

“And you like dwarves.”

“Where did you get that?”

“You already said that you wanted to go to Battledwarvo. Here’s your chance. Let’s split up just for the rest of the day. We’ll meet again in the morning, and if the conflict seems unsolvable, we’ll find those mini-bosses.”

“The other ascendants will be here soon, if they haven’t already spawned. They can kill us here, Clovis. I’m sure that Lothan will try.”

“Then we’ll get disguises.”

“What would my disguise be?”

“Definitely not a hamster,” he told me, “but I’m sure you could put the hood over your head and just act like you’re an NPC. I’ve already got my disguise figured out.”

“Yeah?”

Clovis gave me the equivalent of a firm nod. “I’m going to be a ghost.”

“In that case, you do you, boo-boo, and I’ll do me. And hopefully, we won’t die before tomorrow morning.”

“Um, boo-boo?”

“Just trying it out. It doesn’t work, does it?”

“No, but ‘Clovers’ is a good nickname.” The spellbook floated up to eye level. “No one ever gave me a nickname before. I guess… I guess I’ll be seeing you, then.”  A magic arm took shape, the end forming into a fist.

I fist bumped Clovis. “Good luck.”

“Same.”

Chapter Thirty-Two: Barbarian with A Heart of Gold

It happened. Maybe it shouldn’t have happened, and maybe we were severely screwing our future selves over in doing so, but Clovis and I had actually split up. He headed south, toward Halfsville, and I headed north, toward the dwarven village of Battledwarvo.

We were still a guild, and we still had Lily to run communication between the two of us, so it wasn’t like we weren’t working together in some capacity, but it still felt that way. My ride or die had gone off on his own, the spellbook all grown up, to likely put himself in a situation that I’d have to get him out of later.

Yet it also felt right.

Split up, divide our limited resources, and see if we couldn’t get to the bottom of the conflict between the dwarves and the halflings. I had given us a target time of about twelve hours, or the rest of the day, to see if it was even possible, which I suspected it wasn’t. Then it would be a mad dash to either fight three mini-bosses, or go for the seven totems. I would push hard for the mini-bosses, unless we could get a map of sorts. As it stood, the map on my HUD was mostly obscured, some of it filtering away as I continued to the north and revealing a whole lot of nothing.

“Lil-Lil, you there? You’ve been awfully quiet,” I said after I’d walked for about thirty minutes in the mist. “I’m still going the right way, right?”

<Where else would I be? What else could I possibly have to do aside from monitoring Clovis and you? Yes, I’m here. Yes, you’re going the right way. You will be there shortly.>

“Sorry to bother you,” I started to tell our companion A.I. “How is he doing, by the way?”

<Bumbling along as ever. He has since found a dead dwarf and he’s now using the kilt the dwarf was wearing as a disguise.>

“Is… it bloody?”

<It is. That spellbook is going to have a hell of a time in Halfsville. Now, all I have to do is sit back and watch both of you botch this. That, or get murdered. Because that’s always an option. The other ascendants have arrived.>

“In that case…” I bobbed my head left and right, considering what I should tell her. “Tell Clovis to be safe and to—I can’t believe I’m saying this—not do anything stupid.”

<Right, I’ll tell him not to do anything that you would do.>

“Ah, come on, I don’t always screw this up. I did pretty well back there on the fourth floor, did I not?”

<Yes, actually, you did. I’ll give you that. But you were still incredibly lucky and that may not work for this floor, or in subsequent realms. I guess we’ll see how lucky you are in the end, Angel Farts.>

“Randy. And yes, I guess we will.”

I started down a wet hill covered in fallen leaves and seemingly stitched together by roots. As if it had emerged from the fog, the village of Battledwarvo came into view. Much of the buildings were low to the ground, made of stone, but there were also wooden watchtowers and bridges crossing over a slow-moving brook.

There were a ton of smiths here, just as I had predicted. Puffs of smoke billowing out of several of the chimneys giving the place a fantasy industrial look, maybe something out of a steampunk world. This thought was nixed once I saw several dwarves bringing in a wild hog they had killed, the pig staked to a wooden pole that they had hoisted onto their shoulders.

The dwarves were what you’d expect: short, plump yet muscled, beardy, with high cheekbones and wide noses, all of them clad in leather and armor, big, furry boots on their feet. The women wore armor too, with leather dresses, the hems billeted. Several of the buildings, which resembled longhouses, had lights shining within, which I came to see was the flicker of candlelight. Livestock surrounded a few of the smaller buildings, most of the animals allowed to roam free.

It was a lot to take in.

“You there, ascendant!” A burly dwarf motioned me toward him. “What the hell are ya doing here?”.

“Me? I… I was just…” I searched my mind for an excuse, and as I did the dwarf started to laugh.

He pointed toward a barrel of liquid. “We need to bring that one to the wedding party.”

“Wedding party? I mean, if you want help, sure.” Why am I acting like Cousin Greg? I thought. I cleared my throat and tried again. “First, you shout at me. Then you tell me I need to help you. What’s your name, dwarf? And where is the nearest blacksmith?”

“The name is Karguk, and most of the smithies are attending weddings today. If you don’t want the other ascendants to find you, you’d best stick with me. The powers that be seem to drop your kind on our floor from time to time, so let’s get this out of the way now: if you’re here to forge an alliance between those wretched halflings and us, let me go ahead and save you the trouble—it’s not happening.”

“Sure, I figured as much.”

“What’s your name, ascendant?”

“Lionheart,” I told him, figuring a bit of a pseudonym would help in case another ascendant asked about me.

“A fine name, truly. Help me carry this to the wedding, Lionheart. I’ve already seen an ascendant poking about; it’ll be best to get you to an exclusive party where you can let your guard down.”

“That seems… responsible,” I told the dwarf.

Soon, I was helping Karguk carry the barrel of ale into one of the longhouses. I found an absolute feast taking place, each of the picnic-styled tables covered in meats and cheeses as well as a variety of desserts, mostly pies from what I saw upon first glance.

“Right here.” Karguk and I set the keg down and the dwarf turned to me. “Well? Want a drink?”

“Definitely. But before I do, let me get this straight: you actually know I’m an ascendant?”

“You don’t look like us, even if you do have a beard.” The dwarf motioned the tip of his beard to party inside the longhouse, everyone about the same height and only differing in overall rotundness and beard colors.

“I mean, do you know what an ascendant is?”

“Like I said, we get your lot from time to time, always with the same demented idea that they’re going to be able to solve the problem between dwarves and halflings.” Karguk’s lips curled. “Let me be the first to tell you: that isn’t going to happen. Those murdering halfwits are nothing like us. Have you actually met one?”

“I… can’t say that I have,” I told the dwarf, instantly thinking of Bobby Bad Fingers. “Actually, I do know a halfling.”

“And he is a scheming little clodplate, isn’t he? Because every halfling I’ve ever met could be classified as such.”

I nodded.

Karguk grabbed a sheep’s horn that had been hollowed out. He examined it, shrugged, and tossed it over his shoulder. It hit the head of a dwarf seated at one of the tables and drinking heavily. The dwarf didn’t seem to mind, and the wedding festivities were lively enough that no one saw Karguk’s little mishap.

Whew. I was really starting to keep my eyes on the entry points just in case an ascendant stumbled across the wedding party.

“Heh, we don’t need cups for a toast!” Karguk plunged his head into the barrel of ale and started drinking directly from the barrel. He came up eventually and wiped his beard and mouth with his sleeve. “Your turn.”

I tried not to think about his braided brown beard soaking in the ale, nor his crusty red lips or bulbous nose as I drank the same way he had. It was like bobbing for apples, and the sheer amount of alcohol I took in reminded me of doing a keg stand.

“Again! Again!” Karguk cried once I came up for air.

“I mean…”

An idea came to me. No, it was not stupid, but I’d already been invited to a wedding party, and if I just continued to make merry and figure out the politics of the place, maybe my alcohol-addled brain would come up with a way to better understand the conflict between the dwarves and the halflings.

Not only that, being inside with them would keep me occupied and as soon as morning came, Clovis and I could figure out the mini-bosses or the mana totem angles. Even better, I had a feeling if I cozied up to the dwarves, that they may have some potential leads, a true win-win situation.

All I had to do was get drunk.

****

And get drunk I did. It seemed like every dwarven table I approached I was asked to fill a mug—or in their case, a horn—and throw it back. At some point, well after Karguk passed out from all the alcohol, I was served a plate of roasted meat and potatoes, a huge yet sinewy pheasant leg, some sort of casserole that smelled like Thanksgiving stuffing.

There was music now, mostly lutes but also something that resembled a pipe organ, and a ton of dancing, which sort of reminded me of that stereotypical Russian dance where a person crosses their arms, squats, and kicks their feet out. My failed attempt to learn the dance would have made a great TikTok video.

Eventually, I happened upon a lone dwarf seated at the back of the room. He had golden brown hair, his beard with small bone braids in it, his eyes with a glacial light blue. Things on the periphery were a blur by this point, which weirdly enough, gave the dwarf somewhat of an aura.

I had to talk to him.

“The name is Lionheart,” I said as I plopped down onto the bench.

“Lionheart?” He turned to me and looked me over. “An ascendant.”

“Yep, that’s right,” I said, not able to shake the buzz of the alcohol. His head seemed to enlarge and then settle, mirroring my equilibrium.

“Your name?”

“Ivan. Are you having a good time?”

“I’m having a good enough time,” I told him with a hiccup. “I haven’t been this drunk in ages. Sorry if I’m speaking too loudly too,” I said after I realized the volume of my voice.

“It’s fine. So, Lionheart, let me guess: you’re here to fix the issue between dwarves and halflings.”

“Fuck no. I’m not trying to play politics with just a day left before I need to move on. I’ve figured it out now.”

“Figured what out?”

“There’s nothing I’ll be able to do to solve the issue between dwarves and halflings at this point and time.”

Ivan glanced down at his stumpy hands, his knuckles thick and calloused. “Such a stupid conflict, if you ask me.”

“No one will tell me what it’s about; I stopped trying to ask.”

“Why would anyone want to talk about the conflict at a wedding party?” He gestured to a pair of dwarves who were dancing, the group seated around them laughing and clapping. “If you want to know… you know what? I’ll just show you. Follow me.”

Normally, I would have hesitated to follow a random dwarf to wherever he was going, especially with the bullshit I’d already been put through in Genera, but it seemed like the right thing to do, and I was in the right mindset to do it.

Ivan led me out a backdoor, and reminded me that I would need to step down. I missed this reminder and would have been gifted with a mouth full of dirt had it not been for the dwarf, who had stopped my fall.

“Easy, Lionheart.”

“Sorry,” I said again, starting to feel like a Canadian with all the apologizing I was doing.

“The conflict between our two villages is over the mana totems and what happens at these places.”

We stepped around a wheelbarrow filled with hay, and headed toward the edge of the forest, pine needles crunching beneath my feet. I recalled that the mana totems were one of the options for completing this floor, and while I was drunk, my ears certainly perked up.

“What… what about them?” I asked Ivan as we moved deeper into the woods. I kept my hand near my breakaway axe just in case this was some sort of ambush, not that I’d be that great in a fight at the moment. “I mean, what’s so special about these totem poles in the first place? And where are they, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I’m taking you to one. They’re not special if you ask me. They’re simply something our people have respect for, unlike the halflings. They have three in their territory, and we have three in ours.”

“And there are… seven, right?”

Ivan paused to look at me. “Yeah, seven. How did you know?”

“I’ve heard about them already. Where… where’s the seventh?” I tried to swallow a burp and failed. “Ugh…”

“The seventh is between our two regions, in the center. That’s a big part of what the dispute is about. Stupid, right? Who gets the seventh mana totem? If you ask me, I say we just burn it and keep our three, and the halflings can keep the three they have, as long as they agree to stop having dwarven sacrifices in front of them.”

“Did you say human sacrifices?”

“Disgusting little buggers, they are.” Ivan nodded as we circled around the enormous tree. “This is it.”

The mana totem didn’t look as cool as it sounded. It was carved out of wood and magically affixed to a rock, the entire piece about four feet high. The carvings were hard to make out with my blurred vision, but they seemed to be a set of faces stacked on top of one another, human faces from what I could tell.

“That’s it?” My hand began to glow. I turned it around to see a yellow rune tracing along my palm. “Whoa…”

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Ivan showed me the palm of his hand, which illuminated his bearded face, where more of the rune was complete. “The more totems you visit, the brighter it glows.”

“I love magic,” I said, which was a stupid thing to say, but it felt right in that moment. I turned back to the mana totem, and as I did Ivan let out a yelp of pain.

He dropped to the ground, a gaping wound now bleeding at the front of his chest. Standing behind the dwarf was the female ascendant with the great sword that I’d noticed a few times now, the one who had also joined Lothan on the fourth floor. She was a towering figure, with spiked blonde hair and thick armor.

I drew my axe, my hand shaky as I spoke: “We don’t need to do this…”

Ivan’s last words left his lips: “Kill her… Lionheart. Avenge… me…”

“You shouldn’t have done that. He…” I thought of what I knew about Ivan the dwarf, which was pretty much nothing.

The enemy ascendant lunged for me before I could finish my sentence, her sword meeting Axl Rose. I batted her weapon away, got lucky in doing so, and moved immediately into action as I triggered my Rage power. My heightened stamina and strength heightened caused her to grit her teeth on our next clash.

“I warned you!” I shouted, the Mad Lad taking over.

She blocked my next attack even if it was strong, my balance off because of the alcohol.

After a quick regroup, I slipped in again for a finishing strike, one amplified by a jump. She hit me out of the air, her sword meeting my axe yet again. This triggered my Absorb ability, which shot the swordswoman onto her back.

I stumbled toward her, and came down hard with Axl Rose, only to miss my target when she rolled to the side, losing my footing in the process. She kicked me twice in the stomach, her kicks disturbing the food I’d eaten and the ale I’d consumed. I tried to hold back the vomit, but a little certainly came out as I got to my feet, only to be tackled by the silent killer ascendant.

It was only after she struck me that I realized I hadn’t actually been tackled, that she had shouldered into me instead, the woman making a fatal mistake.

I managed to flip her over and pin her with the grip of my axe. Her sword was too big for her to adequately beat me off her.

I realized something else in that moment as I stared her down—I wasn’t going to be able to kill her this way, not eye-to-eye, anyway.

So I went for a headbutt. I brought my forehead down straight into the front of her face. I felt her tense and release once I did it again, my attack knocking the swordswoman out cold.

(New achievement!) Barbarian with A Heart of Gold: 25% chance for your perception to be amplified before combat takes place. This includes ambushes, and double-crosses.

With a deep breath out, I got off the swordswoman and turned back to Ivan after sheathing my axe. I ignored Lily, who kept trying to tell me something, and disregarded my pulsing head as I attempted to lift the dwarf. When that didn’t work, I grabbed the dwarf by his feet and dragged him toward Battledwarvo.

I didn’t know what I would say when I got there, and I was pretty sure I would regret not killing the female ascendant, but that was life in Genera.

And I’d made my decision.

Chapter Thirty-Three: Angel Farts, Wolf Tamer

Dragging a dead dwarf named Ivan through the woods at night was not a direction I expected my life to take. Even with the achievement I had received, I was truly starting to second guess the decision I’d made in not killing the swordswoman. She would have killed me if she could have, and I imagined myself as a reader in that moment yelling at the author for making the main character a big softy.

But again, this was real life, and things could get messy here.

Killing NPC gnoblins and murder hornets was one thing, but looking someone dead in the eye as you choked them out? Someone who was like you, from planet Earth? I just hadn’t been ready for it at the time, even though I knew in the future, it was something I would need to do without question. I was nearly certain that there would be similar challenges pitting ascendants against ascendants in the future realms. After all, as Kandor the Tower keeper had said, the First Realm also served as a tutorial for what was to come…

“I’ve got someone. Um, man down!” I shouted to the first city guard I could see, who happened to be a burly troll with a big shield and an axe affixed to a polearm. “An ascendant murdered him,” I told him before the guard could adequately respond.

“Stop right there!”

I did as instructed, and while I drunkenly waited for whatever needed to happen next, another guard appeared, a female one that was equally as burly. She remained quiet as the first guard I’d encountered approached me.

As naturally as ever, I put my hands in the air. “I promise I didn’t do it. I actually liked the guy; his name was Ivan.”

“Ivan Bloodbelly of Nokheck Bristleblade?”

“I think?”

The lead guard scowled. “He was eighth in line to the throne! This… this is a matter of national security now. Sound the alarm!”

His counterpart raised a horn and blew on it, summoning several more dwarven guards, all heavily armored.

“Explain yourself,” the lead guard told me.

“Ivan was showing me one of the mana totems. We met at the wedding party.”

“Which one? There are several parties happening today. It’s an auspicious day to get married.”

“No idea. I just stumbled upon it with some guy named Karguk.”

The guards began to surround me as the lead guard continued to speak: “We are going to need to take you into custody, ascendant, and to do so…”

“Check the wound,” I said, motioning toward the body. “It’s a sword wound. No way I could do that with an axe.” My hands still in the air, I nodded my chin toward Axl Rose.

I stepped away from the body and the female guard approached. She lowered to a knee and checked the wound, a frown forming on her face as she did so. One nod from her confirmed what I had told the head guard was true.

“You say an ascendant did this?”

“Yes. She’s back by the mana totem. I knocked her out.”

“How?”

“A headbutt…”

A few of the guards smirked at this.

“Let’s see if you are telling the truth. You four, check the wood mana totem,” the lead guard told a group of muscled dwarves. “As for you, ascendant. Stay where you are, hands in the air.”

“Um…. sure…” I was still drunk, but the flash of adrenaline from the fight and then dragging the body back to Battledwarvo had sobered me a little, likely augmented by my natural healing ability as well. I wasn’t too stoked on the fact that I was even more of an open target now; while the guards had weirdly let me keep my axe, several of them now held torches illuminating our surroundings, leaving us wide open for an ambush. Or an arrow. Or a fireball. There were numerous ways that an ascendant hoping to murder five of their peers to complete the fifth floor could go about doing so.

Even with all this in mind, I did what I was told, and as we waited for the four guards to return, I wondered how Clovis was faring. I would have told Lily to reach out to him, but the dwarven guards would have heard me, and the last thing I wanted was to seem as if I were talking to myself.

So I remained in place, hands over my head, which became increasingly hard to maintain. Luckily for me, I heard rustling in the woods behind me, a sign that the four guards had returned. What I didn’t expect was to see them carrying the female swordslinger’s dead body.

They placed it on the ground, her great sword missing.

“I didn’t kill her,” I started to say, but then I saw her face, the bloody wound that was her eye.

Had I done that with a headbutt?

The lead dwarf crouched before the body and examined the wound. “A needler did it,” he announced to all of us. He made a gesture, his finger going through a hole he formed on his other hand. “Straight through the eye socket, to the brain.”

“A needler?” I asked, the realization hitting me right as the words left my lips.

A rapier.

Lothan the dark elf had killed her, his former teammate, which meant that he could be watching us now. Perhaps he’d even been watching me before, but if that were the case, he should have attacked while I was walking alone through the woods…

I took a step back, directly into one of the dwarven guards standing next to me.

Wham!

I sent my elbow back, straight into his helmeted face. It was now or never; I had to make a run for it.

****

I tore off through the woods, my drunken footsteps and near misses followed by grunts and another blow from the horn horn (sheephorn horn?), signaling for more guards.

“Lily, where’s Clovis?” I asked, barely ducking an incoming branch covered in moss. “Route me to Clovis!”

<That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Clovis deactivated his Guild Token.>

I nearly ate dirt at this statement, my heart both sinking and leaping into my throat at what felt like the same time.

“What? Why? Why!?”

“There he is!” I heard a dwarf shout. The voice couldn’t have been more than fifty feet behind me.

<He didn’t say why.>

“For… fuck’s… sake… Clovis…” I shouldered into a thorny bramble, and got tripped up almost immediately. This caused me to fall straight down an embankment, where I rolled into a brook filled with slick stones. The water was cold. I ignored this fact as I got to my feet and started up the other side. “Then route me to Halfsville, and try to send me through the densest part of the forest that you can, if that’s possible; I’ll figure this out.”

I ignored Lily’s snarky reply as I started running again, this time straight into the dark forest. Normally, a pitch-black forest at night was something I wouldn’t have ventured into, even if I liked camping, but I had to get away from the dwarves, and I could still hear their shouting.

I stumbled down yet another embankment, and continued on, splashing through the water, ignoring the shock of coldness.

Why had Clovis deactivated the Guild Token? Was he mad at me? He didn’t seem mad when we had parted. Was he… dead?

“Tell me Clovis isn’t dead, Lily, tell me,” I said through short breaths. The terrain was hard to manage, but there was also something instinctual about the way I handled it, even more remarkable with the buzz I was feeling.

<All I can tell you is that he wasn’t dead before he deactivated the Guild Token.>

“Why…”

I started to climb a hill I thought would be small. It turned out to be rather steep, my thigh muscles screaming out by the time I reached the top. Something was approaching me to the right, at least I had sensed something, which caused me to start running down the other side of the hill, this turned into an epic slide, then a roll.

I hit the bottom of the hill and was nearly to my feet when I spotted something in the darkness.

Dire Wolf, Level 7.

Dire Wolf, Level 8.

I lowered my hand to my breakaway sheath and grabbed Axl Rose. I couldn’t hear the dwarves anymore, but I could hear the two wolves, both of whom were growling. The first wolf leaped for me; one cross-slash later and he trailed off behind the other, whimpering. I had struck him in the face, the bit of my axe bringing a gash across his snout.

“Run along…” I said, feeling savage, desperate, and angry. I flinched forward, and to my surprise, the second wolf actually jumped back.

Make yourself big, I told myself. I did my version of a growl, letting the two wolves know that I would fight to the death. And surprisingly enough, they bought it. The two quickly disappeared into the brush, their tails tucked beneath their legs from what I could tell.

<I truly can’t believe that worked. Angel Farts, wolf tamer. Or should I call you Lionheart?>

“Funny…” I said, still feeling the adrenaline coursing through me. It was clear by this point that I had lost the dwarves, but there had only been two wolves, which told me there may be more. Sure enough, I heard an intense howl, which certainly got me moving again.

I ran as fast as I could, up another hill, through another stream, and was coming down a second hill when I started to slide. I slid so fast that I was shot into the air upon reaching the bottom of the hill, straight into a pile of leaves near an overturned tree stump. The leaves gave way and I was sucked into a hidden sinkhole, branches scraping me along the way down.

I landed at the bottom in a dark cavern, the wind knocked out of me, everything dimming.

I lay there for a moment in silence, my heart slowly settling in my chest as I listened for wolves and footsteps. None came.

“Hello, ascendant.”

The voice got my heart thumping again, even if I recognized it immediately.

“Drizzy?” I sat up to find the wizardess in her human form, bedraggled as ever. She sat on a golden stool, light radiating around her, the woman’s dreadlocks all gathered over one shoulder.

Her mouth was a thin line before she finally spoke: “I’ve come bearing good news, good news for you, anyway.”

“Please, no challenges. I can’t do any more challenges.” I belched and it hurt. “No challenges. Clovis…” I pressed a bit closer to her, desperation in my eyes. “Is he alive?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that question, but I do have an offer for you.”

“An… offer?”

“You have LyraCoin, correct?”

“Not on me but I can, yes,” I told Drizzy, fumbling over my words. “I can get LyraCoin.”

“Good. You should know the rules of this floor by now. To ascend, you must either solve the conflict between the dwarves and the halflings; kill five ascendants; visit the seven mana totems; defeat three mini bosses; or buy ascension. I’ve been instructed by an elite ascendant to offer you the once-in-a-lifetime chance to buy ascension. This rarely happens, and if you accept my offer, you will ascend immediately to the Second Realm, where you will receive any floor prizes from this floor.”

“Purchase ascension? How… how much would it cost me?”

“6,500 LyraCoins.”

I did the math in my head. That was exactly one Harmon Token based on the exchange rate Lily had told me about at the start of all this madness. It was doable, it wouldn’t cost me anything, and not only that, finally, finally, the real-world money I had blown on crypto would come in handy.

There had to be a catch.

“What about Clovis?”

“You and any of your guildmates are eligible for this offer. But it seems like right now you don’t have a guildmate, so this offer only extends to you.”

“So…” I cleared my throat. “To be clear, if I accept this offer, and Clovis is alive, I will ascend without him.”

“That is correct, yes.”

“And you don’t know if he is alive or not?”

“No, I do not.”

I didn’t even need to think about this one. “Then the answer is no. Hell no, to be exact.”

“No?” she asked, surprise in her voice. “Are you certain? Once I leave here, this offer will no longer stand.”

“I’m sure. Just… just one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Tell the elite ascendants to go fuck themselves. All of them.”

“A bold statement, one I’ll be sure to pass along.” Drizzy stood, a surprised smile on her face. “In that case, I wish you luck, ascendant.” And with that, the wizardess burst into a ball of glitter and vanished.

Chapter Thirty-Four: Keep on Grinding in the Free World

The dire wolves should have circled back around and eaten me. I even had dreams in which I was being ripped apart by rabid canines under a moonlit night, my life coming to a sudden and unpoetic end, a shitty one at that. Sort of a cool way for a fantasy writer to go, sure, but not the death I’d hoped for. Like most people, I hoped to die in my sleep, and for all I knew, that’s likely what had actually happened to me back in the real world.

But the wolves never came, and I soon found myself waking up that next morning, shivering, my mouth dry. Flashes of the previous night came to me, coupled with my insane headache. I had made possibly the stupidest decision of my time in Genera by not accepting Drizzy’s offer, but I couldn’t leave Clovis behind if he was still alive, and fuck the elite ascendants.

There had to be another way.

“Angel Farts?”

My heart jumped at the sound of his voice. “Clovers?”

Sure enough, the spellbook was hovering directly over me, turquoise energy radiating off his outer form, a page sticking out as always.

I shot up and nearly hugged him. Then, I felt a swell of anger. What had happened? Why had he deactivated the Guild Token? He had royally screwed us!

“You look terrible, no offense.”

“Me? I… I only had to fight an ascendant after getting drunk with dwarves, only to get chased by said dwarves; then fought off a dire wolf; then fell into this hole.” I purposely didn’t mention Drizzy’s offer. I didn’t want to give it too much power.

“Feckin’ pumas,” Clovis said after a long pause.

“What?”

“You call yourself a LitRPG author but you don’t know that quote? It’s famous. I digress. I bet you’re wondering why I deactivated the Guild Token…”

“I… was wondering just that,” I told him as I scratched the back of my head.

“There were a few ascendants in Halfsville and I thought if they killed me, that they’d be able to locate you, maybe through a token or echolocation. So I deactivated it while I got to work charming the halflings.”

Echolocation? I thought, still squinting at the spellbook. “How…? Scratch that, why would you think that? And how would they be able to find me through you?”

“I just thought this was the case, so I figured I’d save you if things got bad. I also knew that a few of them were aware of our guild, the Killer McShits.”

“Not our guild name, but continue…”

“And I thought they may torture me to find you.”

“That’s…” I sighed, there was no sense in debating Clovis, besides, I was happy as hell to see him. “Moving on, what did you uncover in Halfsville, then?”

“I discovered that the halflings absolutely love observational humor. Really. I had them eating out of the palm of my hand, Randy, you should have seen them!” A hand appeared, one rimmed in light as Clovis tried to make his point. “From right here, the palm. I’m a big deal there now. They really liked my jokes about dwarves, which were mostly observations taken of Nanny. Remember her?”

“I do,” I said, recalling the whip-wielding troll who had once teamed up with Emiko. “But she was a troll, not a dwarf…”

“She was?” Clovis laughed. “I could have sworn she was a dwarf. Well, in that case, I suppose she served as inspiration.”

“And they really… they really thought you were funny?” I summoned one of my snack packs and picked at it for a moment, glad to have something in my stomach.

“They loved me. I had dozens and dozens of halflings watching me in the end. They provided a nice comfortable room for me, and a few halfling ladies even stroked my pages as I fell asleep.”

I started to laugh. “Did they, now?”

“I’ve never had a threesome before, and I didn’t have one then, but there were two on my bed and they were giggling and touching my pages. I swear, Randy, I can die a happy spellbook now. Then, I woke up and reactivated the Guild Token and had Lily lead me to you. And here I am. That’s pretty much my story.”

I shook my head, surprised at what he had told me. Then I imagined Clovis on a bed surrounded by racy halflings. Good for him, good for him. “What did you learn about the relationship between the dwarves and the halflings of this floor?”

“The relationship?” Clovis made a shrug-like gesture. “We’re definitely not going to be able to figure that one out in the time we have left. It is political, religious, and above all, toxic. It would take months to fix, and the UN would likely have to step in. Not only that, I don’t think I have enough observational humor to really do it justice.”

“Then… we find the mana totems, right? Are you thinking what I’m thinking? We can’t kill the ascendants, and sure, we could look for mini-bosses, but I’ve already uncovered one mana totem.”

“I saw three mana totems in Halfsville. Oslo gave me the full tour. They’re not as impressive as I thought they would be, but I didn’t comment on it.”

“I felt the same way. That leaves us…” I did the math on my hand, including the one that I’d visited. “Three left. There were seven, I’ve seen one and you’ve seen three. Confirm, Lily.”

<You are correct. That is how maths works.>

“I forgot that British people say ‘maths’ instead of ‘math.’”

“They do?” Clovis asked. “I’ve never met an actual British person, I don’t think. But I did binge watch Bridgerton and Downton Abbey. Lily would be perfect for one of those shows. Have you ever thought about acting, Lily? Randy here can write a pretty good script.”

<No, he can’t, and no, I haven’t. I shouldn’t be the one to tell the two of you that you’re running out of time, but here we go: you’re running out of time. Figure out a strategy, or kill yourselves now and save me the trouble of watching you blunder around so close to the end.>

“Jeez, Lil-Lil, tell us how you really feel.”

<I just did.>

“Anyway…” I swept my hand toward the walls of the cavern. “One of the mana totems is somewhere out here in the wild, the other two are in dwarf territory. I’ve got to warn you; the dwarves are not happy with me at the moment.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s… it’s a long story.”

“In that case, where should we start?”

“How about this? I can tell you the story as we search for the mana totem in the forest here.”

<Let me save you the trouble; you aren’t going to be able to find the totem that easily. This is a huge area, easily fifty square miles. You won’t be able to cover it in the time you have left and find the two around Battledwarvo, even with your Tracking ability. Maybe at a higher level and a few more points in perception and intelligence, but it would be a stretch to attempt that right now.>

“Shit…” I turned back to Clovis. “Are you really a big deal in Halfsville like you said? Be honest.”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“You wouldn’t lie, but maybe you misconstrued things.”

“They worship me there because of my comedy.”

“And you know someone that will help us?”

“Know someone, I’m practically best friends with the president’s son, Oslo.”

“The halflings have a president?”

Clovis tilted toward me, as if he were giving me a funny look. “Are halflings not smart enough to maintain a democracy?”

“I have no idea. The dwarves have a king from what I could uncover. At least, I think someone mentioned the king.”

<Are you two really going to make me say it?>

“Say what?” asked Clovis.

<Get on with it!>

“Right, Lil-Lil has the right idea.” I looked up at the opening above us. Yes, this entire conversation took place in a hole in the ground. “Ready to fly me out of here, Clovers? We’ve got some mana totems to find.”

****

Halfsville wasn’t what I expected from a halfling village. My original thoughts were that it would be like the Shire, but there were no homes built into hills, and while everything was made of wood, there was something almost modern about the way it was designed. From what I’d already seen, there were no metal parts used in their building structures, all the planks cut to fit together perfectly. It was cleaner than Battledwarvo, but it didn’t have the same homey vibe of the dwarven village. There was something almost suburban about Halfsville that I couldn’t quite place.

It had taken us about thirty minutes to reach the village, and now that we had arrived my goal was to keep a low profile, something practically impossible once the halflings started recognizing Clovis. “Here, here!” a few of them seated at a cafe said, the pair clapping.

Clovis really was popular, famous enough that city guards surrounded us to protect us from the crowds once we reached the town square.

“Just here visiting Oslo,” the spellbook said, waving to the adoring crowd.

“How did you get so popular in less than a day?” I asked as the guards led us through the crowd.

“Easy. Watch.” Clovis floated up into the air and the crowd around us quieted. “What’s up with dwarves?” As soon as these words left his lips, the halflings started to laugh. “Why do they have to have beards? Do they all live underground like trolls?”

The people laughed even harder.

“It’s so terrible…” I said under my breath as I scanned the crowd.

There were now dozens of halflings gathered around us, and while many were shortish, some were taller than others, my view further skewed by the city guards and the round wooden shields they carried.

Clovis floated back down to me. “Just give them a taste, that’s what I say.”

“When did you ever say that?”

“Clovis!” The crowd parted to present a well-dressed halfling in blue silk robes adorned with peacock embroidery. He had blonde hair and hazel eyes, a kind smile on his face as he approached. Behind him were several guards, their faces obscured by hoods.

“Olso, just the guy I was looking for!”

“We’re just so glad to have you back, Clovis. Your absence has been felt, old friend.”

He’s only been gone an hour or so, I thought as I forced a smile. “Hi, I’m Randy, the noun not the adjective.”

Clovis motioned his single hand toward me: “This is who I was telling you about, the infamous author that writes under the pen name Angel Farts.”

“Yes! I have heard all about you.” Oslo tilted his head to the side, which looked to be some sort of greeting. “Welcome to Halfsville.”

“I wish we could stick around for longer,” Clovis began, “but we’ve got a few things we need to take care of. I appreciate you showing me the mana totems around the village, and I was wondering if you could show us the disputed one in the forest.”

“In the forest? You’re in luck, Clovis. I was just planning to head there for a morning sacrifice.”

“A… morning sacrifice?” I asked, instantly recalling that the dwarves had warned me about this.

“Why, yes. We try to do it once a month or so, but it really depends on if we capture a dwarf or not.” Oslo grinned at a wooden cage behind him, one I hadn’t seen earlier. Sure enough, there was a redheaded dwarf locked inside, a dismal look on his bearded face.

An idea instantly came to me. “In that case, I suppose we’ll join you for the morning sacrifice.” I gave Clovis a look that said ‘just go with it,’ and for once, the spellbook interpreted that I had a plan.

“Yes, Oslo, we’d… we’d love to join you!”

“In that case…” The halfling summoned his guards: “Rattle your dags, men. We’re moving out!”

****

The hooded halfling guards carried the imprisoned dwarf on something that resembled a palanquin, eight guards in total, four remaining at the back for additional security.

It turned out that Lily was right about the difficulty in finding the mana totem. The trip took several hours through a route that I couldn’t have fathomed, a situation made worse by Clovis’ observational humor, all of which the halflings truly seemed to enjoy.

The spellbook had clearly found his people.

The mana totem itself was in the dead center of a collection of ruins, overturned stone columns covered in moss surrounding the area, and a single standing structure which would have looked right at home in Rome.

“Ah, there she is,” Oslo said, the halfling taking a deep breath in through his nostrils. The trees in this part of the forest had been culled back, leaving the big blue sky above, the sun halfway behind a cloud shaped like a poodle.

Rather than point out the cloud, I readied myself.

Clovis would go along with the plan; along our trip, I’d mumbled to Lily what needed to happen next, and she’d provided this message to Clovis discreetly, who, for what it’s worth, did a great job of not revealing my strategy as he continued to entertain the halfling president’s son.

Apparently, the spellbook felt the same way about dwarf sacrifice, namely, that it was barbaric and pointless.

“Bring the prisoner to me,” Oslo said as he drew a sword with a golden hilt.

Two of the guards at the front of the palanquin, which now rested in a tuft of green grass, unlocked the cage with a gaudy key. They grabbed the dwarven prisoner by the arm and yanked him out of the cage, tossing the man forward.

Oslo pointed the tip of his blade at the prisoner, who had yet to make any sounds aside from a soft grunt. “Is there anything you would like to say before we begin?”

The dwarf spat, which I took as my cue to step forward, my axe at the ready. “Drop the sword, Oslo. No one dies here today.” We were close to the mana totem now, my hand already starting to glow yellow. “Take your people with you and go. Leave the dwarf with us.”

The halfling president’s son raised an eyebrow at me. “You plan to attack me with an axe?”

“I’ll light your ass on fire with a Magic Missile,” Clovis said, flaring up. “You’re a good guy, Oslo, at least I used to think you were. But then I learned about what you planned to do here.”

“I thought we were friends, Clovis!”

“Don’t make me do it, Oslo. Take the halflings and leave.”

Movement behind the palanquin caught my attention. “Get them!” a male halfling shouted, one I recognized immediately as his robes came off and he began knifing the halfling nearest to him. He was joined by a dryad female vampire, who also tossed her robes off as she summoned wooden stakes from the ground, impaling two of the halflings.

Bobby Bad Fingers and Kandi had just entered the equation.

Oslo used the distraction to try to cut me down, and he may have done it too had it not been for the Magic Missile that Clovis fired off, which struck the halfling and burned him like a marshmallow too close to the campfire. I followed this up with a series of quick cleaves, quickly ending his life. Once Oslo was dead, I moved to the nearest guard, who prepared to fend me back with a short sword.

Thwack!

I sent Axl Rose twisting through the air; it nailed him in the forehead and he went down instantly. Since my ability wasn’t at a level that the axe was going to return to me, I surged forward and ripped it out of the halfling’s skull. I brought it up and over, blocking an attack from an incoming halfling guard. Before the two of us could really get going, a wooden stake rose from the ground, killing him instantly.

Only a few moments later and all the halflings were dead, leaving us with Bobby, Kandi, and a red-haired dwarf who looked to be in the process of shitting himself, especially with his hands tied behind his back and his feet shackled.

“I love you two fucking idiots!” Bobby said, a big smile tracing across his face. “You led us to the final mana totem. Look at that?” He showed us his hands, which were starting to fade away. “We’re ascending.”

“You could have spared them…” I started to say.

“Yeah, I could have. But it was more fun this way, wasn’t it?” Bobby gestured toward the halfling bodies, blood pooling around several of them now, one of the men that Kandi had impaled letting out a final gasp.

“Thanks, boys.” The dryad vampire winked at Clovis. “You two made it easy.” She shifted forward just a bit, giving the spellbook a good look at her ample cleavage. “Maybe we’ll see you on the Second Realm.”

“Wait, you already reached the dwarven mana totems?” I asked, their forms half-faded now.

“We sure did, and it ain’t easy. But you’ve got, what? A good fifteen hours or so to figure it out. Two fart smellas, I mean, smart fellas, like yourselves; I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Bobby Bad Fingers started to laugh. “Anyway, I don’t want to say that you just got fingered, but…”

“Ugh, do you have to use that as a catchphrase?” Kandi asked.

“Look, I let you suck people’s blood out of their literal necks and don’t judge you for it; let me say what I need to say.” Bobby the shitty little rogue halfling cleared his throat and blew us a kiss. “This probably won’t be the last time you two get fingerbanged by Bobby and Kandi, but hey, you’re good kids, and we could have killed you, but we like you. Really, we do. Hell, we may team up again if you make it to the—”

Bobby and Kandi disappeared in a flash, leaving Clovis and me with an imprisoned dwarf who was finally starting to relax a little, even if he was still cuffed.

I turned to him, no time to waste. “What’s your name?”

“Ragnar,” he said, his teeth appearing in the mess of his red beard as he tried to smile at us.

“Ragnar. After we finish up here, we need you to take us to two of the mana totems in your territory. I’ve already visited the one directly outside of Battledwarvo.”

“I…”

“Yes or no? You have already seen what we are capable of.” Clovis took a deep breath. “WE DO NOT WANT TO LEAVE YOUR CORPSE HERE FOR THE WOLVES.”

“Jesus, Clovis, maybe don’t scream at him until we know if he agrees to help us or not,” I said under my breath.

“I was going for a good cop, bad cop thing,” Clovis said, the spellbook shrinking back to some degree. “Sorry.”

“Yes!” the red-headed dwarf blurted out. “I’ll help you. Anything! Just… just don’t burn me to death.”

I looked at Oslo’s body, which was now smoldering. “Sure, we’ll spare your life. Just get us to the mana totems and we’re good. No games. We visit the totems, and then we do what those two just did. Ascend.”

“Because we’re ascendants,” Clovis added. “And that’s what ascendants do.” The spellbook turned to Oslo’s dead body. “Sorry for the way things worked out, old friend.”

Chapter Thirty-Five: Fortress of Dwarves

I tried to stay ready for anything, including some sort of ambush as we drew nearer to the dwarf neck of the woods. I noticed road markers affixed to trees indicating our proximity to Battledwarvo, which was making me increasingly nervous. I’d already visited the place once, and didn’t for a moment want to entertain fighting our way through it. Clovis and I may have been able to take some halflings back at the forest mana totem, but we’d been aided by Bobby and Kandi, and a serious platoon of dwarves would leave us only with one viable option—run.

“Tell us, again, what to expect,” I said to Ragnar the dwarf as we came to a bluff, the trees around it pressing dangerously close to its natural edge, mangled roots jutting from the soil that reminded me of a bed of serpents.

The dwarf raised one of his red eyebrows at me: “Have you already forgotten?”

“No, but pretend as if I did.” Truthfully, I had found it hard to pay attention to what he’d told us over the last hour. I kept expecting either a dwarf, an ascendant, or a band of halflings to spring a trap on us. This was, after all, generally how things went for Clovis and me to the point now that I’d come to expect the worst, happy to settle with ‘not as bad as I’d thought it would be.’

Ragnar forced air through his lips. “Like I was saying, you’re in luck. The two mana totems are currently together, which doesn’t happen very often. There is a fortress a league or so from here at the start of the Dwarf Mountains.”

“The mountains are small?”

“Why would they be small?” Ragnar asked Clovis.

“Because—”

“—You know what, never mind,” I said, hoping to move this along. “Continue, please.”

“There have been rumors that the halflings are planning to steal a particular totem known as the lake totem. It used to be near a lake.”

“That’s why it was called the lake totem,” Clovis told me, as if I didn’t understand.

Ragnar grunted an affirmative response. “So we moved it to a fortress at the Dwarf Mountains, which backs up to a cavern that we use to get to the top of one of the mountain peaks, where you’ll find the sky totem.”

“Do all the totems have names?” I asked. “First I’m hearing them.”

“They do, but most people only refer to them by their names if they’re in a particular location.”

“So we need to visit the fortress totem and the sky totem.”

“Sure,” the dwarf told Clovis. “If you want to put it like that, then yes.”

“How fortified is this fortress?” I asked Ragnar as we merged back into the forest. This felt like a stupid question, but it also was relevant at the same time.

“The walls are twenty feet high, there are plenty of guards, and from what I know, the lake totem is being held in one of the buildings in the courtyard. Not only that, the front gates are made of viridian.”

“That’s rather specific. How do you know that?”

“I was stationed there before, back before I retired from the guard,” he told me. “This isn’t the first time we have placed something there for safekeeping. So that will be the hard one to get to.”

“Other ascendants clearly have…” I said, mostly for Clovis.

“The sky totem may be the hardest to reach because of where it is located. That journey through the caves can take four or five hours.”

“That’s too long,” I said after doing the math in my head. If we were going to have to fight our way to the first one, we’d need to get to the second one quickly. I wasn’t about to put Clovis and me in a situation in which we’d try to stealthily infiltrate a fortress; I knew how badly we would botch that.

“I could always fly up there.”

I stopped and turned to the spellbook. “You are suggesting that you fly to the top, and I attack a fortress on my own?”

“If you wanted to do it that way, sure. But I was thinking more like I fly up to the top, register with the sky totem, then return to you and we teleport into the courtyard. All we have to do then is get near the fortress totem.”

“Lake totem, but sure, call it that,” Ragnar said.

“He might be onto something, Clovers.” I motioned to Ragnar. “The two of us hide out while you fly to the top, then once you return, you and I get to the final totem. I like it, I really do. Just be sure to get a look at the fortress’ courtyard either on your way up or on your descent. Remember, you can only teleport to places you’ve seen.”

The spellbook shifted back and forth, as if he were nodding. “We’re going to nail this floor, Angel Farts, I can feel it in my pages.”

“Pages?”

He shrugged. “I don’t have bones.”

“No, you don’t; and yes, we will.”

****

Ragnar and I took positions amidst the large spikes of a palisade made of wood. We had found a nice corner at the side of the fortress, one where we could hide in a blind spot while Clovis visited the sky totem. With five mana totems down, we only had two to go before we would be able to ascend.

“Just fly straight up, right?” he asked the dwarf.

“Get to the top and follow the rock formation. The peak looks sort of like the grip of a sword, like a giant stabbed the weapon into the mountain. That’s where you will find the sky totem.”

“I can do this, I can do this.”

“He’s good at finding stuff,” I told the dwarf as if Clovis were my child and I was trying to explain how talented he was. This got me thinking: “Remember, you can’t be seen, Clovers. So try to stay to the side a bit until you are high enough in the air that they’ll think you’re a bird.”

“Should I flap my pages like wings?”

“No, I mean, sure, that could be convincing, but you lose enough pages as it is. Lily will be our direct line of communication. Do not deactivate the Guild Token. And on your way down, try to get a peek at the inside of the fortress, just a place to teleport us to. Once we’re in, if we can’t immediately find it, I’ll use my Tracking power. I’m not worried about that part, even though I should be.”

“I’m going to do this. No, we’re going to do this!”

I offered Clovis a firm nod. “You bet your ass we are. Good luck.”

Ragnar and I watched as Clovis took to the air, the spellbook careful not to be spotted by any of the dwarves. “And you’re sure there’s not a secret entrance or something into the place?” I asked him. “There has to be.”

“There likely is, but I was never privy to information like that, sadly.”

“Right,” I said as I refocused on the sky: “Lily, how’s our baby boy doing?”

<First, if Clovis were your son it would entirely make sense because the two of you are complete idiots. Second, in this scenario I certainly wouldn’t be the wife, if that is what you are implying. If I were the midwife, I would have killed the spellbook the moment he popped out of his mum. Now, as to your question: Clovis is doing well enough.>

I grinned at her snarkiness. “In that case, keep me updated.”

Movement on the road that led to the fortress’ main gates caught my eye. A trio of patrol dwarves came into view, my first instinct being to duck a little further. We weren’t in their direct eyeline, and I didn’t think the trio would be a problem until Ragnar suddenly stood and waved his hands.

“Lads! I’ve been taken prisoner up here! Help!”

“What the hell?” I started to ask.

In his mad dash to escape from me, Ragnar ended up falling directly onto one of the wooden spikes, which only made it look like I had pushed him. “Argh! Argh!” he shouted, the dwarf flailing.

I had just been betrayed by the dwarf; it was now or never. I stood, marked my first target, which happened to be a dwarf with his hair in braided pigtails, and sent my axe flying.

I always knew this was going to be a fight to the death.

****

Dwarven Guard, level 6

Dwarven Guard, Level 9

I rushed toward the pair, not yet ready to trigger my Rage power. I knew I’d need to save it. A change of plans was inevitable. Clovis and I were going to have to fight our way into the fortress, reach the mana totem, and ascend.

There really was no other way around it.

“Lily, tell Clovis I got into some shit!” Once I had my weapon again, I sent it directly at the lower-level guard, only to be thrusted backward after he blocked it with his wooden shield. I followed up with another swipe, this one overpowering the dwarf to some degree and sending him a few steps back.

The higher-leveled dwarf, who had an axe damn near twice the size of mine, lunged at me, shouting as he did so to get the attention of dwarves in the watchtower.

Wanting to save both my Bag of Mystery and my Paper Talisman tokens, I summoned the sneeze power, just as an arrow struck me in the back. My God did it hurt, and for a moment I couldn’t help but double over in pain, even as the two guards started sneezing up a storm.

“Update… me… Lily…” I said as I attempted to pull the arrow out. I managed to get my hand around it, and soon discovered that pulling it out was even worse than being struck with it to begin with, the barbed arrow bringing a good chunk of flesh with it in the process.

Apparently, my armor had very little piercing protection…

I dropped the bloody arrow to the ground, took a quick glance around, and decided now was as good a time as any to Rage.

I triggered my power, and was quickly able to cut down the lower-leveled dwarf, who had positioned himself between me and the front wall of the fortress. Rather than leave him on the ground, I lifted him onto my shoulders, an instinctual move to protect myself to some degree from more arrows. This sort of worked as I charged toward the front gate, my amplified strength and stamina making it fairly easy for me to carry the beefy dwarf while the higher-leveled one pursued me.

<Clovis has made contact with the mana totem. He is coming back here now. You sure cocked this up, didn’t you?>

“What?” I asked as arrows touched down all around me. “This… this wasn’t my fault!”

A smaller door that had been built into the front gates burst open, armored dwarves filing out. I tossed the dwarf I had been carrying on my shoulders at them and exploded forward, several spilling back.

Save some, I thought as I mentally cooled my Rage power so I’d have it as an option in the near future.

To prevent more arrows, at least for the time being, I sent paper cranes up toward the parapet, which seemed to do the trick. This allowed me to focus on the dwarven men and women who were surging toward me, at least nine of them. I had already spotted my way in; all I needed to do was get there.

You’ve got this…

I met my next dwarf, my axe ricocheting off his shield as planned. He stepped back; I shot forward with my knee in the air and managed to bring him down. One strike to the dome didn’t kill him because of the helmet he wore, but it certainly hurt, and I would have finished it too had it not been for a dwarf with a spear.

Damn spears and their long-range capabilities!

The arrow I’d been struck with hurt, but the spear? The spear had me wanting to flop on the ground like a fish, much worse than the time that Emiko had stabbed me. The dwarf managed to get me in an exposed part of my own armor as well, right over the hip bone, this part exposed because of the way I’d been positioned to strike the grounded dwarf.

More blood, everything flashed red. My health bar had taken a beating, and I was at about the halfway point. This was an easy enough fix as I triggered an HP potion.

It quickly became apparent that going through the front door wasn’t going to be an option. Looking for another solution, I started to veer away from the skirmish.

Once I had my feet solidly under my body, I took off toward the right-hand side of the fortress, keeping as close to the outer wall as possible. My Rage power didn’t give me a true boost in speed I needed; that would be the ability I hadn’t learned yet, the one called Surge…

It was a shit time to deal with my skill points, but I remembered I had four, and if there was ever a time to assign them, now would be that time. “Lily, put my four skill points in Surge!” I said, recalling that it would not only triple my stamina, but greatly improve my speed.

<Right, done. Go, Randy!>

Everything seemed to flash around me as I catapulted forward, my increase in speed and stamina coming with a timer wheel. This was not an ability that took from my MP; like my Absorb power and my Tracking it was constantly reusable, but would clearly need a cooldown time.

My enhanced speed and stamina lasted about ten seconds, giving me plenty of time to get away from the dwarves and avoid their arrows. My next move was to go for one of the items we had lifted off Rune’s body. “Thank you my sweet, sweet prison inmate,” I said as I summoned the Magical Doorknob Token.

I placed it flat against the wall and as soon as I did, a rim of energy took shape, creating a perfectly operational door. Another timer wheel appeared on my viewing pane, this one tied to how long the magical door would last before it sealed up.

I wasn’t going to need that long.

I swung the door open and stepped into a room filled with weapons and shields.

I had breached the fortress.

****

“Where’s Clovis?” I asked Lily, taking just a second to catch my breath.

The door in front of me swung open and an absolute beast of a dwarf shouldered in. He slammed into me, the back of my head hitting the wooden floor. I thought I heard Lily’s answer, but I couldn’t be certain, everything dimming for a moment, my sense of hearing thrown off kilter.

The big dwarf placed both hands around my neck and started to squeeze, murder in his eyes, his beard long and braided and a bit ratty.

Crack!

I smashed him in the side of his head with the grip of my axe. When this didn’t work, I hit him again, this time doing so with my Rage power amping me up.

Mad Lad time.

It was stupid. I knew this in that moment and I know it now, but the mere mention of the two words combined with my enhanced strength and stamina seemed to do the trick.

CRACK!

I struck the dwarf one more time, finally knocking him off me.

Dwarf Guard Captain, Level 25.

Nope, not sticking around to fight this one out, I thought, especially in a confined room.

Instinct kicked into overdrive as I bolted toward the door he had come through, knocking over weapons racks and hanging shields to make it harder for the dwarf captain to catch me. I charged through the same door he’d come from and reached the courtyard within the fortress. The space was much larger than I’d hoped it would be, and filled with dwarves all gunning for me or preparing to loose arrows. A grayed-out map of the compound appeared in the lower left-hand corner, a flash of gold letting me know where the mana totem was located.

I suddenly felt like a running back against a wall of linebackers. I charged forward anyway, swinging Axl Rose in a frenzy, hoping for my Surge ability to come out of cooldown. Thinking of it presented a timer wheel yet again—there looked to be less than a minute to go before I could use it again.

Thwick!

An arrow struck me in the back, yet again taking the wind out of my sails. I pressed on, stepping aside as a helmetless dwarf with a longsword came rushing down a pair of stone steps. I avoided his attack, and sent my own weapon flying at his face.

The dwarf went backward and as I traced past him, I swooped down to grab my axe.

(New achievement!) Death Wish: Because you are so brazen, you now receive a 20% boost in health when your hit points are dangerously low.

I ignored the string of text as I came upon a pair of shielded-up dwarven badasses. Not only that, there were several male and female dwarves behind them, all blocking the path that reached a central building, one that from what I could tell most certainly held the mana totem.

I just knew it.

My Rage filtered away—I should have been monitoring it. I still had a little more time before I could Surge again, which meant I’d need to fight these guys as best I could until I reached that point. With this in mind, I yanked the arrow out of my back and took off toward them, ready to fight to the death.

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAMMMMMMMMMMM!

A gamma ray of energy cut right over my head and struck the two guards, lighting their bodies on fire and tossing them aside. Its blast radius reached further than that, scattering some of the dwarves that were blocking the path ahead and igniting any wood in its vicinity.

“Randy!”

I sent Axl Rose to its breakaway sheath and jumped into the air just as the spellbook swooped forward, his pages spread wide. I grabbed onto Clovis as if we had planned this escape, the two of us flying directly over the line of dwarves.

I let go, hit the cobblestone ground, and began running toward the central building, a cathedral based on the short wooden spires and the stained glass windows along the first and second floor.

My map flashed, even though I already sensed the mana totem’s location. “It’s in there!”

Clovis zipped forward and smashed through a stained glass window, while I turned back to our pursuers. I was greeted by a platoon or more of dwarves, two arrows instantly striking me in the chest.

“Shit…” I yanked the arrow in my right pec out; my health bar dropped quite a bit, and then grew in size due to my new achievement buff.

The second arrow had clearly pierced a lung, something I’d noticed once I felt that it was hard to breathe. But this wasn’t the real world, and I had a cure for this sort of dilemma. I triggered an HP potion, the arrow in my chest physically moving out. I grabbed onto it and finished the job of pulling it out, just as a fist met my chin.

The Level 25 dwarf captain began kicking me, his sword gripped tightly, the brute of a dwarf clearly preparing to cut me down with his sword.

“Not… today…” I swept his legs out from beneath him and tried to push away. I fell yet again once an arrow struck me in the back and began stumble-crawling up a flight of stone steps as dwarves descended on me, Lily’s voice breaking through the madness.

<Clovis has done it! The Killer McShits have accessed all seven mana totems!>

My spirits instantly lifted, I pressed back to my feet, summoned my Surge power, and moved so fast that I managed to avoid several dwarves in the process of trying to pile on top of me.

Wham!

I slammed straight through the cathedral door, dozens upon dozens of dwarfs charging in after me.

I spotted Clovis lying on his back, yellow runes shining across his pages, my heart fluttering for a beat. The spellbook coughed; a page shot up into the air and lowered just as I reached him. “I think I came through that window too fast. Did… did we do it, Randy? Did we?”

“We did it, Clovers!”

I ignored the cry of angry dwarves behind us and the pain from the arrow that was still sticking out of my back as I tucked the spellbook under my arm.

“We should be disappearing any moment now…”

Sure enough, I felt a tingling in my limbs. I looked down at my feet to see them starting to fade away, the inside of the cathedral blurring on my periphery.

“Second Realm, here we come…” I said as everything began to spin around us.

Congratulations!

You have ascended to the next realm. Here are your floor rewards!

Extra Life Token (Legendary)

Did an ascendant you care for die? Revive them with the Extra Life Token! One-time usage; can be used for any ascendant, regardless of guild status, in any realm of the tower.

Lube of Doom Token (Uncommon)

Get things moving with the Lube of Doom Token. You have been warned—this stuff is slippery! Use a lot or a little. This token expires after three squeezes.

Points!

You have gained a level!

+3 Perception!

+2 Dexterity!

+3 Skill Points!

“Guess what? I got a level,” Clovis said, the spellbook interrupting the string of words coming at me like the intro to a Star Wars flick. “I even got some intelligence points. I feel smarter already! Killer McShits for life! We crushed this floor!”

“Did you see the token we got?” I asked him as everything around us fizzled away.

“The lube?”

“No, not that one, Clovis. The—”

Zip!

I don’t know if there is a correct sound for reality slipping away, your body trickling away with it, and then suddenly reappearing in a swanky room with ample space and a table covered in your favorite dishes. Chandeliers and the rafter-high ceilings made up for the fact that there were no windows, the space large enough to be comfortable, albeit still confined due to its windowless nature.

It was yet another holding area, a nicer one than we’d been in before.

Clovis floated over to me. “Ah, you mean the Extra Life one, right?”

“Bingo.” I plopped down into one of the plush sofa chairs. My heart was still racing from the dwarf fight just moments ago. It was going to be a minute until I could fully relax.

“Maybe we can bring Apollos or Rune back to life.”

“Possible, but let’s just see how things play out.”

A page started to shift out of Clovis. “You know, it’s probably because of the achievement I got back in Halfsville. What was it again?”

Rather than let Clovis bumble his way through the menu screen, I mentally accessed it to see he’d received an achievement buff called Lucky Ducky, which gave a fifteen percent increase in the chance for a floor drop to be a legendary item. This would have extended to both of us, as far as I could tell.

A different thought came as I got my bearings—I could have taken Drizzy’s offer if the Extra Life Token was a set floor reward.

Bear with me here because it takes a little explaining:

Drizzy offered me ascension to the Second Realm for what equated to a single Harmon Token, of which I have over 900,000. If Clovis had completed any of the fifth floor tasks on his own, then he would have naturally joined me in our current holding room. Or at the very least, he’d be in his own holding room. If he had died, or time had expired, I could have just brought him back to life in the Second Realm, both scenarios possible without being guilded up. The only variable here was the floor reward itself. Did every ascendant get the Extra Life Token? Or was it somehow related to the achievement buff Clovis had received? We’d have to ask either Emiko or Rob to be sure once we saw them again. Scratch that, if we saw them again. Clovis and I had no way of knowing if they’d cleared the fifth floor.

“Is something wrong, Randy?”

“Actually? No, everything is good. Everything is in its right place.” I smiled at him. “We really should be celebrating.”

Defying all odds, Clovis and I had done it.

We had completed the First Realm of the tower, and somehow, we had both survived. The only variable now was what lay ahead.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “They have chocolate cake. It probably isn’t gluten-free, but I guess it’s okay to cheat just once.”

I looked over at the table of food, wondering if it had any flavor or not. I could smell the spread from where I sat, especially the steaming tray of meat, but there really was only one way to find out. “Lily, any hints for the Second Realm?”

<Try staying alive? I don’t know, Angel Farts. I’m still surprised that the Killer McShits survived the First Realm. Congratulations are in order, I guess. I would say I’m proud of both of you, but I don’t want you to be too sure of yourselves. The next realm will prove doubly challenging. I can, however, provide one hint about what is to come: lava golems and flower guns.>

“Lava golems and flower guns, huh?”

Clovis giggled. “Oh, I get it! It’s like a limerick.”

<It absolutely isn’t a limerick.>

“Then a haiku. Lily really believes in us, doesn’t she?”

“Something like that, Clovers.”

I sat down at the table and puffed my cheeks out as I examined the food. Once again, everything before me was something I would have loved to eat back in the real world, from the aforementioned cake to Thanksgiving dinner with all the fixings. It would be a feast, as long as it had flavor.

“Well, eat up,” Clovis said. “Eat enough for both of us.”

I stuck my fork in the cake and brought the piece to my mouth. Here goes nothing, I thought as I took a bite, prepared for anything to happen next, from poisoning to portaling.

“Well?” Clovis asked after I swallowed the bite.

“It’s fine,” I told him, even though it wasn’t. While there was flavor, it was completely sour with a peppery aftertaste that burned my throat. The elite ascendants were screwing with me again, but I wasn’t going to let them win. Not this time, not ever.

“Then eat more…”

“Don’t mind if I do,” I told the spellbook as I started to load up my plate.

There was no sense in stopping now.

We had a tower to climb.

The end.

Pre-order Tokens and Towers Vol 2, out on June 23, 2022!

What to expect? Dragons, slimes, teaming up with the worst ascendants, batty challenges, and above all, more tower climbing!

Back of the Book

Hi, my name is Harmon Cooper. You can call me Harmon Cooper.

Maybe you are a long-time reader of mine considering I have written over sixty books. Maybe this is your first look at my work and you’re wondering what the hell is wrong with me (but in a good way!), and you are also curious as to if my other books are like Tokens and Towers (most of them aren’t).

Either way, I need your reviews. Even better, I have a way to thank you! Read on.

I am an independent author. Writing and publishing books is what puts food on my table and allows me to continue writing and publishing books. It’s a vicious loop that I enjoy. I’m telling you this because your reviews are critical in the success of the series. It is what helps other readers discover the book, and it tells the Amazon algorithm to recommend this book to others. If you laughed, if you thought it was crazy, if you liked some of the references to the LitRPG genre, which I’ve been writing in since 2015 starting my series The Feedback Loop, then I need your review.

Please take a moment to review Tokens and Towers.

It only takes a moment and it can be the deciding factor between a new reader taking the plunge or reading whatever else catches their fancy. Help me catch their fancy as I’ve somehow caught yours. Want to pre-order the second book? Do that here.

Thank you for your honest review and supporting my life’s work! It’s an honor, truly.

BONUS - I have a limited number of postcards that I like to send out to thank readers for their honest reviews. If you do review Tokens and Towers and would like a postcard—I send them internationally—simply send me a screenshot of the review and I’ll fire one off. They look like this!

MAD LAD!

Behind the scenes of Tokens and Towers

I didn’t have time to write Tokens and Towers when I started it. I have other series that I’m currently working on, including my more serious works, Cowboy Necromancer and Pilgrim that needed my immediate attention.

But I couldn’t stop this insane story from coming to me.

As much as I wanted, I couldn’t silence this story about a portaled fantasy writer who isn’t as smart as he thinks he is, and a spellbook who is both the best and worst sidekick that someone could hope for.

Really, I tried.

I got to the point that the only available time I had in my writing schedule was between 11pm and midnight. So, starting in the summer of 2021, I began writing the story as much as I could during the time allotted, mostly as an experiment in both fictional styling (first person past tense meta fiction), and to see what I could do the parameters given. Originally, it was called Last Man Randy.

I came up with all these crazy ways to launch it, including an experiment web serial angle with a media company called JumpCut Media that actually had a crypto side to it. I mean, it fit considering Randy wasted all his money on crypto. Believe it or not, there are actually Harmon Tokens in existence but a very limited number that were part of a limited launch in November of 2021! Thank you to those few supporters, all half-dozen of you, who participated in that experiment on Discord. Also, thanks to those of you who read this on Royal Roads, where I previewed it.

I had a cover commissioned that never saw the light of day, one that the artists and I went back and forth for five months to try to get right. Five months! If you’ve been following Tokens and Towers for a while, maybe you saw it. Maybe I’ll use it again. Maybe not.

In the end, a sudden burst of inspiration came to me. I wanted a cover in which Randy was wearing his hamster beanie and using Clovis to fly. Stupid cool, right? I know! I sketched my new idea up, and the artist, Richard Sashigane, made it a reality.

From concept to finish to everything in between, including any marketing successes and blunders—this story is proof that indie publishing is a truly unique art form that has vastly different tools at one’s disposal, that inspiration is important to follow, and that sometimes, starting over is the best way to bring out the best in both yourself and a project, like I’ve done multiple times with Tokens since conception!

TLDR; what started as an experiment has become a story with endless possibilities.

I’m so glad you’ve read it, and I hope you’re ready for more hilarious mayhem in the second volume, which will be out in a few months. Why so soon?

Well, I’m a fast writer, and I actually finished the volume you’ve just read in December 2021 and have been working on the next installment since.

So, I’m a bit ahead.

One final thought. Tokens and Towers is my love letter to the LitRPG genre, a genre I was writing in before it was a genre. It’s different, and it may not be for everyone, but if you made it this far…

(I should say something about reviewing Tokens and Towers, but I’ll spare you!)

Yours in sanity,

Harmon Cooper
www.harmoncooper.com

Here are some Facebook pages you should join:

My Facebook Group

(join the above group to get exclusive content, see cover reveals, get updated release schedules, connect with other Harmon Cooper readers, check out dope memes, and so much more!)

LitRPG Books

GameLit Society

LitRPG Forum

Here are some other ways to support my books:

1. Join my ARC group on Facebook – this is where I give away free books before they are released.

2. Review my books, which generates more interest from other readers, which makes me write faster because (carrot dangling from the stick!) – I want to please you all!

3. Join the Harmon Cooper mailing list.

4. Join my Patreon where you can read exclusive content (from cover design to future release ideas and chapters). Tokens and Towers 2 is already being posted here!

To learn more about LitRPG, talk to authors including myself, and just have an awesome time, please join the LitRPG Group.

Other Books by Harmon Cooper

I have written over sixty books. Here are some of the highlights!

This is the series that started my author career. GameLit before it was a genre, published between 2015-2018. Volume One collects books 1-4 and has a ton of extra content. If you like audiobooks, it is narrated by the legendary Jeff Hays. It’s also humorous, like Tokens and Towers!

https://geni.us/The_Feedback_Loop

A post-apocalyptic LitRPG set in the southwest that continues to thrill readers!

https://geni.us/Cowboy_Necromancer

An instant bestseller. Pilgrim follows the life of Danzen Ravja, a former assassin trying to make amends with his past.

https://geni.us/PILGRIM

War Priest is a progression fantasy/cultivation series about a healer forced to multiclass to survive. Expect intrigue, tournaments, combat, humor, training, and a ton of world-building based on Japanese mythology.

https://geni.us/War_Priest