1
Welcome, Crawler. Welcome to the tenth floor.
Time to Level Collapse: Level timer has been
temporarily suspended for this floor. Please wait
for the announcement from that inebriated fish
if we can manage to wake her up for the details.
Views: 933 Septillion
Followers: 3.5 Quintillion
Favorites: 971 Quadrillion
Leaderboard Rank: 3
Bounty: 3,200,000 gold
Congrats, Crawler. You have received a Platinum Venison Box.
Remaining Crawlers: 5,501
Entering your garage.
Warning: The next heat starts in five minutes. Safe room access is blocked until the heat is over.
I hit the tiled floor with a heavy thump. One moment I'd been sitting in the zero zone, talking with Quasar about that psychotic Naga woman, and the next I was here.
I stood, wiping myself off. I was still covered in blood and gore and red ash from the end of Faction Wars. This was a large room with a black-and-white-checkered tiled floor and corrugated metal walls, like a smaller-sized airplane hangar. It was cold. I turned to face the only other creatures in here. They were a pair of white-tagged gremlins standing in the back corner, both wearing overalls.
I blinked at the NPCs just as Donut appeared next to me with a yowl. She hit the ground sideways, yelped, and then jumped to my shoulder.
"Carl, I'm atop the leaderboard again! I'm number one!"
"I'm very happy for you."
"So, I met the new wife."
"Yeah, I heard," I said. I gave her a pat. "I haven't met her, but Quasar filled me in. I heard you grabbed the upper hand pretty quickly."
"Don't be racist. It's upper paw. But yes. If she thinks she can just slither in and take advantage of the Posse like that, that legless bitch has another thing coming. And I thought Miss Beatrice was bad. You sure know how to pick them, Carl."
There was an ominous countdown timer in the upper left of my vision. It was at four minutes and thirty seconds and counting down. We needed to figure it out before we did anything else.
Donut: MORDECAI, I HAVE TO PICK A NEW CLASS! HELP ME WITH THE CHOICES.
Mordecai: There you guys are. You have four minutes to get your vehicle ready. Donut, you're back as party leader, so pick a class quickly.
I turned in a circle. At the front of the garage was a massive roll-up door. A chain pulley system crisscrossed the ceiling. I'd seen plenty of similar systems in both car shops and dry dock repair bays. The two gremlins started jogging toward us.
I already knew some of what was going on out there because Quasar had told me, but even he hadn't known everything. I clicked through my messages and pop-ups, my heart still racing. I briefly paused at that number "5,501." That meant 75% of us had taken deals.
I took the briefest of moments to let that sink in. Such an overwhelming sense of secondhand relief flooded me. I didn't blame anyone for tapping out. Each and every one of them had earned it.
Part of me wished I had the luxury.
I was stalling, even if just for a second. I already knew what the next message was. A message reminding me why I would never be able to take that path. I took a breath.
Justice Light: I am not sorry. Peace to you all, brothers and sisters.
This message is from a deceased mercenary.
Sadness overwhelmed me. I already knew Justice Light was dead. Quasar had told me. Still, the sight of those words was like a kick to the stomach.
You crazy asshole. What did you do? What did that trap do?
A response to his message appeared on the group chat.
Rosetta: Rest well, comrade. We are not far behind.
She was still in here in the safe room, as was Tipid. They'd both been converted to hired mercenaries.
Quasar hadn't really known the specifics. All he knew was that the Nothing was "broken" and that everything was in chaos on the twelfth and eighteenth floors. And furthermore, the outworlders on those two floors were protected from really dying by the system AI. They could get hurt on the eighteenth floor, they could still "die," but they would immediately get brought back to their rooms in the club. A club that was physically inside of the now-awake dungeon boss. The system wasn't letting anyone eject.
Some of the things that had leaked from the Nothing were using this to their advantage. It was like what we'd done to Growler Gary, but worse. Much worse.
Quasar had only given me a quick version. So far, the now-awake Scolopendra hadn't yet done anything other than move around a lot. Apparently, the tourists on the eighteenth floor had the ability to move themselves to the sixteenth floor, where it was safe, but they first had to make their way through the seventeenth floor for some reason, where it was not, and anyone who even attempted it got turned to mince and immediately brought back to life on the eighteenth, where the worst of the worst were stalking the hallways.
Forgotten gods. Demons from hundreds of former quests. All sorts of other horrific creatures. Several had made their way to the eighteenth floor, but, luckily-or not luckily, depending on how you looked at it-these creatures all appeared inside the final boss. And not just inside the monster's guts, but inside the club, where they immediately set themselves on the guests. Guests who couldn't die, no matter what was being done to them.
The cameras had gone dark after the first few hours.
Those on the twelfth were faring better, considering they were in the bodies of gods with god powers. Though apparently the non-sponsored gods were all suddenly acting quite strange. That's all Quasar had known.
I hoped the city of Larracos and all those who'd gone with it to the twelfth floor were doing okay.
More messages came, but I didn't read them in detail other than to note who was here and who wasn't. Elle. Imani. Zhang. Florin. Louis. Chris. Britney. Bautista. All checking in. Prepotente had some rant about Jurgen.
So many of my friends hadn't taken deals.
Donut: OMG, THESE CLASSES STILL COME WITH ACCESSORIES!
She gasped.
Donut: SOME COME WITH PET ACCESSORIES! THE LAS VEGAS SHOWGIRL COMES WITH A FEATHERED HAT FOR MONGO!
Mordecai: This class might be better.
Donut: I AM NOT PICKING ZOO WARDEN. MY GOODNESS. OHHH, WHAT ABOUT THIS ONE? PROBLEMATIC INFLUENCER? IT COMES WITH AN UPGRADE TO MY SOCIAL MEDIA BOARD! WAIT, THERE'S ANOTHER TAB! LOOK AT THIS ONE!
Mordecai: Holy shit, I see it. Uh, we should probably study these further before you pick one from this tab. These are in association with your other deity titles. This is all new to me.
Donut: WE ARE IN A HURRY, BUT THESE ARE MUCH BETTER.
THIS ONE COMES WITH A HEALING AURA AND A HAT. I'M PICKING IT.
Donut glowed.
Donut: HEY! I JUST GOT A REALLY NASTY MESSAGE FROM KHEPRI. ISN'T THAT THE WEIRD BUG GOD THAT CARL AND KATIA FOUGHT ON THE LAST FLOOR? IT SAYS HE'S FORMING A "DEATH CULT" IN MY NAME. WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?
Mordecai: Nothing good.
"What did you pick?" I asked.
"Assassin of Sekhmet," she said. "It comes with accessories for every pet in the party, and all sorts of great spells and other stuff!"
Warning: The next heat starts in two minutes, and you don't even have a vehicle or mount. You're not allowed to walk, dumbasses.
"Carl, what is a 'heat'? That sounds obscene."
The gremlins were suddenly there, both looking worried. One was a female gremlin named Hedy, and the other a male named Waldrip Chris. They both started talking at once, shouting about us having to quickly make a choice. These shouts turned to a scuffle, and then, out of nowhere, they were beating the shit out of each other as they continued to shout at us. I could barely understand either of them. The woman gremlin had been lugging a red toolbox, but she'd dropped it to the ground the moment they'd started to fight. The man had some sort of vegetable in his hand. It was a tan-colored gourd, and he was now attempting to bash it over the head of the woman gremlin.
I quickly examined them.
Hedy. Gremlin. Level 30 vehicle mechanic.
This is an applicant to be manager of your garage.
This is a non-combatant NPC.
Hedy is an expert in all things mechanical. If you choose a mechanical-based vehicle, she will be in charge of your garage. Don't let her appearance fool you. She's about as experienced as one can get when it comes to engines. If you can limp your vehicle back to the garage, rest assured it'll be good as new by the time the next heat starts.
Warning: Just because Hedy is a non-combatant NPC, it doesn't mean she's invulnerable. If something happens to her, your vehicle will not get repaired between heats.
Hedy is not allowed to enter your safe room.
The second description was similar.
Waldrip Chris. Gremlin. Level 30 animal trainer.
This is an applicant to be manager of your garage.
This is a non-combatant NPC.
Waldrip Chris is an expert in all things biological. If you choose a flesh-based vehicle, he will be in charge of your garage. From a minor case of the sniffles to appendage amputation, he will make certain your trusty mount is ready for the next heat.
Waldrip Chris had the same set of warnings.
The two gremlins continued to roll across the garage floor. Waldrip Chris had Hedy pinned and was smacking her over the head with his gourd thing as she blindly reached for her toolbox.
As soon as I finished reading both descriptions, a new message popped up.
Your party leader must choose the manner of vehicle. Mechanical or biological. Once you choose between the two, you will spin the wheel for the specific vehicle chassis or creature.
"A vehicle?" Donut said incredulously. "I have the Twinkle Toes spell and a level 15 Heal Critter. Mongo won't like another animal in the party, but it's probably the best choice."
"Pet spells don't work on special mounts," Hedy the gremlin gasped from the floor. She managed to grasp her toolbox and reach inside. She pulled out a mallet that was much too big to have fit in the box. With a shout of triumph, she swung the giant mallet, clocking the other gremlin. She remained on the floor, panting. "Neither Twinkle Toes nor Heal Critter will work on them!"
The other gremlin growled as he scrambled up. He bled profusely from a cut on his head. He still held the gourd. "Don't tell them that, you bitch!" He jumped at the prone woman like a wrestler leaping from the ropes, gourd held over his head before he smashed it on his opponent's face. The vegetable thing broke into pieces, and tiny bugs spilled out and crawled all over her. The woman gremlin shrieked, wiping them off with her free hand as she writhed. She blindly swung her mallet, almost catching me in the foot.
"It's the truth, jackass," she called as she sputtered.
"Carl, what is happening?" Donut demanded.
"Uh, I think they're both applying for a job."
We had one minute left.
"My goodness, you two. Quit fighting!" Donut called. "Carl, I'm starting to feel the definition of 'non-combatant' is very loose."
"What did you call me, you unshaven hedge creeper?" Waldrip Chris bellowed as he punched Hedy in the face with a closed fist. There was a terrible crunch.
"What about Repair and Fix scrolls and potions?" I asked.
"Nope," Waldrip Chris said triumphantly as he continued to pound her. He grunted with each punch. "All vehicles are proprietary to the arena. Ever seen a Charm Wombat? You can't get better handling than one of those furry bastards. And with a few upgrades . . . Ooof!"
He didn't finish before the mallet once again connected with his head with a wet smack. He tumbled away.
Hedy sat up and sneezed, sending blood and beetles everywhere. "If you have any other pets in your party, a mechanical vehicle won't ever try to eat them."
And there it was.
From next door I heard the revving of a high-octane engine. The walls of our garage shook.
"You," Donut said, pointing at Hedy. "I choose you."
"Ha!" Hedy shouted.
"Wait, wait, please," Waldrip Chris said, backing away, still holding his head. "You could get a Cloud Cheetah. With their speed and agility-"
"I'm quite sorry, Waldrip Chris," Donut said, "but we are in a hurry. I'm afraid we will be going with something that's not going to eat my Mongo. We choose mechanical. And just a word of advice for your next job interview. I would refrain from-"
Blam!
Waldrip Chris exploded in a spray of red and green mist.
"Gah!" I called, jumping back as Donut yowled.
Mechanical has been chosen. Your Mechanic is Hedy.
Copyright © 2026 by Matt Dinniman. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
