“So, as you can see, there’s absolutely nothing suspicious going on at all,” states the invader, gesturing at the box, now empty. The other two had laid down to show that they couldn’t actually fit inside the giant metal coffin without some creative arrangement, and testified that the water was gone when they had arrived.

“Well, the water disappearing is still a huge issue,” mentions Stabby. “I’m sure that we’re going to have to report that the source of water steadily eroding the plateau has suddenly stopped flowing, and it probably has other implications as well.”

Shooty blasts another slime wandering close to them.

“Like the slimes becoming more aggressive,” he adds to the conversation.

“At least the ones near the capital have never been anything more than these green ones,” Smashy says, “the more advanced types can get to be more than six meters long.”

“What, there’s no way that can be right,” Avery disbelieves, “even if you combined the mass of three hundred of those regular slimes, that would only be… wait quick math puts that at about the right ratio.”

“Hopefully nothing like that’s happened, it’s been less than a day,” consoles Stabby.

“Well we wouldn’t see anything like it unless we started making a concerted effort toward wiping them out,” continued Smashy, helpfully, “at which point the bigger ones would start filling the gap left by all these harmless green blobs and start piling up casualties.”

“Where are you pulling this from,” Avery demands, “you can’t even tell what a kobold looks like.”

“Trade secret,” states Shooty, attempting to shut down that line of questioning.

“And what trade would that be,” retorts Avery, “professional scammer? My parents use the materials we buy to make quality magical goods, and trying to use inferior bases results in an overall worse product. If you want one of those, you’d go to the tower for the cheap junk novices have to make for projects. As a matter of fact, if you want to sell junk materials, that’s where you go to get rid of those too.”

“What are you even doing out here?” rebuts Stabby, “the daughter of a shopkeeper scrounging up junk in the dump? Shouldn’t you be at the counter or something, helping your parents run the establishment?”

“Don’t turn this back on me,” demands Avery, “I’m studying to get into the tower, and working on my entrance project. I, unlike certain adventurers I could point toward, am improving myself and increasing my potential. You don’t even realize there was some sort of time-space anomaly back there!”

“Are you talking about the river?” asks Smashy.

“The river? What about the,” Avery says, looking around for the first time since she regained her body, wasn’t in mortal danger, and had managed to ignore the fact that the timeline had collapsed around her, “river is gone. Why is the entire river gone?”

“Got any snacks?” one of the invaders asks another, “This is kinda entertaining.”

“I wish,” replies the thickest one, “I’m absolutely starving after grabbing this thing.”

“Well hey,” consoles the first invader, “on the plus side, there’s a bunch of humans nearby and we can probably scavenge some food from their city.”

“Generally,” starts the third invader, “you are supposed to exchange goods or services for currency, not just take things. I understand that is a point lost on both of you, but I feel an ethical imperative to at least attempt to remind you of it.”

“Don’t steal stuff while we’re near you,” orders Shooty, “I want to deal with diplomatic garbage as little as possible.”

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Ham woke up to a bunch of cultists in some sort of torture room, with the terrible instruments displayed proudly on the walls like a macabre intimidation scene. Most of the walls, at least, as one of them was just made of fire. A grate on the floor indicated this was also a murder torture chamber, as the hole would allow for easy cleaning once the deed was done. He could use a room like this. Some of the other orphans at the temple were a bit difficult to keep in line.

The cultists said a bunch of nonsense, but he didn’t really pay attention to any of it. He was a bit more focused on the terrible walls, and what those cultists could possibly need all of those things for. They literally had shelves just to hold all of them in place.

Before he could have his morbid curiosity satisfied, Ham found himself suddenly not where he was. It was very confusing, sensorially. Instead, he was in a garden of some sort, next to a fairly large monument with an open doorway, leading to a downward stairwell straight into the depths.

At least they weren’t going to make him read all those books.