The workbench and alchemy station were right where Beatrice had predicted they’d be, set into a recession in the wall and covered in dust and cobwebs.

Another wind spell from Will, and the nastiness was cleared away. Carey went to the workbench first.

“Walk me through this, guys.”

Beatrice snorted derisively. “Walk yourself through it. I’ve got some potions to create.”

“Will?”

Rubbing his hands over his shaved scalp in what appeared to be indecision—or maybe frustration, hard to tell with this guy—Will went to stand next to Carey at the bench. “Don’t know why I keep helping you like this, homie.”

“We’re a party,” Carey said with a shrug. “A team. At times, I honestly feel we’re a family…”

“Okay, just shut up.”

The workbench interface was simple enough and not unlike others Carey had used in video games. There was a tiled column on the left half of his vision that showed his inventory, organized by types of items; a tiled box on the top-right where he could insert ingredients; and a tiled box on the bottom right that showed the result.

He could scroll through recipes on another screen that showed up in his vision alongside the first, though he only had a few at the moment, like Simple Healing Balm and Small Shovel. There was a section to the right of each recipe that showed Required Tools. Carey assumed that meant knives, axes, and other implements necessary to fashion the item in question. The Healing Balm looked pretty handy (“Restores 45 HP at a rate of 1/second”) and didn’t require any tools to craft, but it did require three things not in his inventory: (1) Honey, (2) Beeswax, and (2) Horned Beetle Ashes.

“Here.” Will handed him two sheets of paper that looked worn and yellowed with age. Studying them, Carey saw that they were recipes for two pieces of armor: Simple Leather Boots and Simple Iron Greaves. “Bea can enchant anything marked as ‘simple,’ thanks to her enchantment skill level. She could probably even enchant you.”

“Wait,” Carey said. “Really?”

“Uh, no. It was a joke.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Because you’re simple?”

“Ahhh…” Carey landed a hard slap against Will’s shoulder blade. “You’re a funny guy, Will. Gonna call you Witty Will from now on.”

“Please don’t.”

Carey absorbed the sheets, which memorized both recipes and added them to his list. He mentally clicked one. To create “Simple Leather Boots,” all he needed were four leather strips and two rags.

The result shown in the bottom-right box was red, giving him a chance to inspect the stats before turning it green by confirming.

Item: Simple Leather Boots

Type: Light Armor, Leather

DMG Resist: 3

Weight: 1

Value: 450C

Traits: None

“Hey, Bea,” Carey called out.

“Shhh! What the hell is wrong with you?” came Bea’s heated reply.

Carey ducked his head slightly. “Sorry. Um... Can you enchant these boots, pretty please?”

Bea finished what she was doing, which took about two minutes, and came over with a sigh she made no effort to hide. Will had taken over the crafting bench and was quietly whistling a tune.

“Will says you can boost these,” Carey said, looking down at his shiny, newly crafted boots.

“Usually, I’d need an enchanting station, but it must be your lucky day. I happen to have a few Minor Crystals of Enchantment that make the interface portable for one-offs. You only get one item, though.”

Carey made the boots appear in his hand, neatly flat and pressed together. Nice not having to change in and out of armor like in real life.

Beatrice took out a tiny orange crystal and activated it. The boots floated, and little orange balls of energy began zipping around them, leaving trails of misty light.

When Carey inspected them again, he was pleased with what he saw. The name of the boots had changed to Silenced Leather Boots.

There was also an added trait: 15 percent reduction to noise caused by walking or creeping, but not running.

“This is pretty cool of you,” Carey said, equipping the boots. “To use up one of your crystals, I mean.”

“We’re a party, remember?”

Beatrice winked at him. Carey’s heart skipped a beat.

“Oh, here,” she added, making a sheet of paper appear in her hand. “Take this. Might need it when we get back to town.”

Another recipe: Enticing Perfume.

“Sweet. Thanks.”

They took turns finishing up items on their to-do lists. Will was now wearing a completely different robe—this one dark red with a hoodie, no symbols or patterns on its surface.

“New robe?” Carey asked. “Creepy.”

“Got it off the shaman,” Will said, lifting his arms and inspecting it. “It was pretty worn so I broke down my other robe and used the material to repair this one.”

“Any cool enchantments?”

“Yup. Adds 15 percent to my Luminether stores, but I don’t get the 10 percent added protection from ice spells that I had on my last one. Oh well. Damage resistance is a few points higher, at least.”

“Fair trade. Plus, you no longer look like Harry Potter’s gay astrology professor.”

They shared a laugh at that, until Bea shushed them.

“Stealth means shutting your mouth,” she snapped at them.

“Okay, Mom,” Carey grumbled.

He stood at the crafting bench again and made sure to double-check for other recipes he could craft. Scrolling down the list of items, he settled on a Small Shovel, so he could dig up gold ingots and other treasures. It would cost him (1) Wooden Block and (2) Aluminum Shards. No problem there!

He also crafted a Steel Bracelet and Steel Necklace, which he figured could be enchanted at some point. Both cost him half a steel ingot, the remainder of which was converted to (50) Steel Flakes. Next up was a pair of Simple Iron Greaves that provided +4 to damage resistance. He removed his Lowlands Leather Greaves and flung them aside, slipping on his newly acquired armor. The set had cost him an iron ingot to craft, which wasn’t bad at all.

Finally, he used a bunch of flowers to cook up a flask of the Enticing Perfume recipe Beatrice had given him. The item had the benefit of boosting the Charisma attribute by 10 points for 30 seconds and the Persuade skill (which affected one’s mercantile ability) by 20 points. It cost him (4) Herranean Flower Petals, (2) Jorento Flowers, and (1) Glass Flask.

“Let me enchant that jewelry,” Beatrice said.

“What about your crystals? Limited supply, remember?”

“Oh, it’s no problem. I found an enchantment station buried under some rubble, right over there. The benches usually come in threes.”

“You guys are the best,” Carey said, as he held out the bracelet and necklace he’d crafted earlier. Beatrice enchanted the Steel Bracelet to add +30 Stamina to his meter, renaming it a Steel Bracelet of Exertion, and the Steel Necklace to add +0.5 Health recovered per second when sitting or taking a knee, which turned it into Salude’s Rapid Healing Necklace.

“Two more?” Carey asked, holding out two Copper Rings he’d stashed earlier in his inventory.

Beatrice shrugged. “Why not?” she said. “Since I’m apparently the mom around here.” She patted the top of Carey’s head as though he were a wayward puppy, then turned and headed toward the enchantment station. She returned with a Charged Copper Ring, capable of restoring an additional 0.25 Stamina per second while sitting or taking a knee, and a Copper Band of the Lucky, which raised one random skill or attribute by 20 points once a day for two hours.

The dark corridor beckoned. Despite his enhanced senses, the lack of warmth and the low light made Carey antsy. His Feral senses kept picking up bugs scuttling across the wall and creeping over the stone floor. He could smell their sickly, spicy scent, hear their infernal clicking, imagine their tiny, sharp legs prickling him all over.

He’d always liked dungeons in video games, but being inside one in real life...

Nasty is what it is.

The place looked as though it had been abandoned a thousand years earlier, despite occasional signs of Torg presence. The builders obviously hadn’t returned to check up on it over the centuries.

“What do you think the Torgs need this place for?” Carey asked, making sure to keep his voice to a whisper or else risk Bea’s wrath.

“Probably just a game design choice,” she responded. “But if you want to be immersive about it and talk game lore, I’m sure Will can make something up for you.”

Will was happy to oblige. He must have been a D&D Dungeon Master at some point, inventing campaigns so his nerdy companions could explore his imagination.

“The Torgs broke into the Shrine of Muriel in recent months, with the intention of looting its legendary gold mine...”

“Wait.” Carey stopped him. “Is this for real? Or are you making it up?”

“Sure is real, at least I think. Check this out.”

He handed Carey a note. On it was a hand-drawn image—just as crudely scrawled as the note they’d found on the shaman—depicting a pile of shiny rocks with an arrow pointing to it, labeled GALD. The artist had used an oily powder, perhaps from ground flower petals, to color the pile of gold bright yellow, and had also written, Find gald in shrine of murril.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Carey said. “When were you gonna share this?”

“I was debating it. Made more sense for you to be aware of enemies, not trying to sniff out gold.”

“Let’s level up,” Beatrice said. “Then let’s find this treasure and get the hell out of here.”

A notification pulsed in the corner of his vision.

“Damn it, Ara,” he said.

“I know, mine too,” Beatrice said.

He activated Ara, watching as she slid out of the crystal and took colorful form before his eyes. Hugging herself, she looked around in fear.

“Creepy dungeon,” she squeaked. “I hope you make it out of here soon!”

“What is it, Ara?”

“Just wanted to let you know, Master DrollTroll, you can choose to turn that note into a side quest with markers and a log of its own. Almost all dungeons have ‘Treasure Hunter’ quests that can yield valuable loot. The game will learn your habits after a while. If you choose to accept these quests, they’ll pop up more often. If not, the HUD won’t notify you unless you ask it to.”

~SIDE QUEST~

TREASURE OF THE DROWNED ACOLYTE

Recommended Level: 5

Carey skipped reading about the quest, which was essentially a fetch quest telling him to find Muriel’s gold.

“Thanks,” he told Ara. “You can go now.”

She looked slightly hurt before slipping back into his Araband crystal (She’s not real, he assured himself). Activating “Treasure of the Drowned Acolyte,” Carey was pleased to see a quest marker telling him where to go.

Out of nowhere, a notification spread across his vision.

~SIDE QUEST~

MASTER OF ONE’S OWN FATE

Recommended Level: 15

Gain four advanced masteries by bringing four skills up to a rating of 70. There are enchanted items, weapons, and armor that can help do this more quickly…

PATH OF LOW KARMA: Gain four advanced masteries. At least two must be the result of points added from a Blood Ether crystal, skill-enhancing jewelry containing the life force of a slain ally or non-enemy NPC.

XP REWARD: 7,500

“All agreed we’re going to stay away from Low Karma quests in general?” Beatrice asked. “I don’t feel like killing you guys, or any NPCs for that matter. It’s not how we do things in this party, am I right?”

“Agreed,” Carey and Will said, nodding.

Carey was in a chatty mood and tried to think of topics to make conversation.

“So, Ara’s kind of annoying, huh?” Carey said. “You guys ever think of unequipping your bands?”

“Nuh-uh.” Will shook his head fervently.

“No way.” Beatrice frowned at him, as if Carey had just asked whether they should tackle this dungeon naked rather than armored. “You can set it to do all sorts of things.”

“Like what? Guess I missed that tutorial message.”

“Watch.” Beatrice tapped her crystal, and her version of Ara slipped out in a graceful curl of light and color which straightened and became a winged, red-haired woman rather than Carey’s wingless brunette.

She’s actually pretty hot as a redhead!

“Ara, set my Heal II spell to cast upon any party member, including myself, once their HP falls below twenty percent.”

“Yes, Ms. Beatrice.”

Will and Carey laughed at that.

“Ms. Beatrice?” Carey said. “Sounds like my first-grade teacher. Ms. Beatrice, may I approach the board?”

“You may,” Will joked, “but only after you wash your mouth out with that damned soap!”

He flung a weak light spell at Carey’s mouth, which made him flinch as though a flash grenade had gone off in front of his face. He made a chewing motion and swallowed the light, then grinned at Will, teeth sparkling.

Something rumbled in the distance.

“Uh oh,” Carey said. “What’s that?”

“That,” Beatrice whispered harshly at him, falling to a crouch, “is what happens when you guys are loud, obnoxious a-holes!”

The rumble had been the door at the other end of the corridor opening. Two Torg Fighters appeared, holding torches above their heads, apparently intent on investigating the noise.

“This way,” Will said, beckoning them into a black rectangular space slightly darker than the rest of the wall—a door Carey hadn’t seen until now. “Hurry.”

Carey flung himself into the darkness, Beatrice lunging after him. They watched the torch light shiver along the walls, slowly brightening.

“I’ve got this,” Carey whispered.

He crouched, feeling himself enter “creeping” mode, as the game called it. His Silenced Leather Boots warmed, indicating the noise-reduction effect had been activated. He could sense their magic in the core of his mind, like a quick shot of a confidence-boosting drug.

“Swear I heard sumthin,” one of the Torgs said in that characteristic nasally voice.

The other one’s voice was deeper, raspier. “Invaders, like them last ones. Make sure they’re alive when we skin ’em this time. Makes the meat taste better.”

“You killed the last one, ’member? Stabbed him before we could cook him.”

“Oh yeah!”

They chuckled at the memory of whatever adventurer they had stabbed, skinned, and eaten.

Carey whispered, “I’m gonna enjoy this.”

When the fighters had passed, Carey silently stepped into the corridor. He took out his dagger, motioned for Bea and Will to follow, then made another series of gestures to Will that seemed to say Blast him with your staff… but not yet.

His companions watched him creep forward. Carey could feel their hopeful stares on his back. The Takedown notification manifested as a strange netting made of silvery light that scanned over the Torgs’ bodies, indicating which one he’d chosen with his gaze. He made his decision based on their weapons, going for the one with the more powerful-looking short sword and leaving the one with the dagger for the others to take on. The netting of light shifted to his chosen victim.

In a single silent sweep, Carey curled his arm around the Torg’s neck and pulled him backward—cutting off his air supply and ability to scream—then plunged his dagger into the struggling creature’s neck, with his victim’s partner being none the wiser. He died instantly.

The game had guided Carey’s movements. He felt like a truly skilled and dangerous assassin. Incredible.

The torch fell from the Torg’s lifeless hand. The clattering sound was enough to alert his partner, who turned, toothy jaws snapping open, demonic yellow eyes bulging in alarm. It was a face straight out of a nightmare. By then, Will and Beatrice had made their moves, Will blasting the Torg with an Ensnare spell that rooted him to the ground, green, magically enhanced vines curling around his feet. Beatrice slashed at him a bunch of times with her Coral Knife. The effect of the weapon’s water damage splashing the Torg in the face was an added comedic touch that made Carey smile mischievously, despite the dead Torg still in his arms. He dropped the corpse and stepped back.

The standing fighter was still alive. The Ensnare spell fizzled out, and the fighter lunged toward Carey, who managed to deflect the oncoming attack with his dagger, though it staggered him. He watched helplessly as Will and Beatrice went to work on the Torg, beating him down with their melee attacks.

“That was sloppy,” Carey said afterward—not talking about his own impressive move, but the rest of the battle. Beatrice read into his tone like he was an open book.

“Maybe next time, you’ll offer some support after your initial Takedown,” she said. “Instead of standing there and patting yourself on the back.”

“I was staggered,” Carey said, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice. “Why are you always so bitchy to me?”

“Oh no, he didn’t,” Will said, taking a step back.

Beatrice spun her body around and around, bashing Carey in the face with the knobby frames of her wings. Will managed to dodge out of the way. He was grinning like a fool.

“Ow!” Carey shouted. “Stop it!”

“You do not get to call me the B-word,” Beatrice screamed at him, apparently no longer caring that they were trying to stealth their way through a dangerous dungeon. “Got that, DrollPuss?”

“I said bitchy! Oh, but you get to call me DrollPuss?” Carey exclaimed. “You misogynist.”

Beatrice froze, her face still red and puffy with rage, which they could see by the light of the torch Will had scooped up from the ground. He watched, waiting for Bea’s next reaction.

She burst out laughing. Utterly mystified, Carey and Will simply stared at each other.

“Muh-muh-misogynist,” Beatrice sputtered. “Me? He called me a misogynist? The nerve.”

“Let’s keep going, you weirdo,” Carey said.

Beatrice wiped her eyes, then cleared her throat. “Oh, Carey. You’re going to get what’s coming to you. Someday.”

“I already did. It’s called getting tasered, kidnapped, stuck in a straitjacket, beaten against a conference table, forced into a death pod, and getting stuck with you two idiots.”

“Hey, what did I do?” Will said, still chuckling.

Carey snatched the torch out of Will’s hand. He stomped toward the light at the end of the corridor, which was coming from a burning torch inside a room that looked clear and quiet enough for them to take a breather and come up with a strategy.

Later, he’d have to figure out what the hell was wrong with Beatrice. Her little anger episodes were really getting on his nerves. Carey was fine with her not liking him; plenty of people didn’t like him, probably including his own parents. But this game was a matter of life and death. The fact that she found it necessary to screw with his morale—

“What the—”

Carey almost didn’t see the thief at first, even as he heard the jingling sound down by his belt. The Feral was much shorter than Carey, or maybe that’s because he ran in a crouched fashion toward the door at the other end of the room. More like scampered than ran.

No—he was tiny. A midget thief.

“Pickpocket,” Will said, thrusting his finger at the Feral.

“Get him!” Carey eyed his activity log as he ran.

Another player pickpocketed DrollTroll for (5) silver and (2) lockpicks

“Over my dead body,” Carey grunted, picking up the pace, practically flying across the room.

“Carey, wait!”

Will—shouting at him—too late...

Carey’s boot triggered a raised floor panel.

A subtle click as it shifted…

Not again.

… instantly setting off the trap.