After the incident at the pawn shop, and the subsequent outpouring of emotion, everybody felt drained, and didn't feel much like holding a grudge anymore. Despite everything, Louden was their friend, and she'd almost died while everybody was sitting around shit talking her. That sort of realization doesn't leave the mind easily. Though they didn't ask her, she had provided an explanation; according to her, she had gone to Goldberg's to 'shake the fucker down' and find out if he had sold them out somehow.

“You know the worst part about this?” Vaughan asked, draped over a couch outside the RV. They were baking in the afternoon sun, the still air hazy with smoke, cans of beer neatly stacked on the ground. Nobody said anything in response, but he had their attention. “I still want to go back. Even being on the edge of that place, that dungeon. . . I felt so alive out there. Man, it was like being a teenager again.”

“I don't ever remember feeling that stable and present,” McCrea said, laying on a rug near the couch. Ben's water pipe was standing tall near his head, the desert floor a flat and stable base, the bowl half spent. “It was like my whole life I'd been walking through a fog, and for the first time, I could see.”

Louden sighed, her face pouty, before taking the bong and lighting it. “It just sucks none of you got to see what I did. I was,” she sighed and pulled in the smoke “a total badass,” she said while exhaling, the smoke making her voice lose definition. She closed her eyes and appeared to be drifting off into the memory, basking in the sun, before snapping back to attention and looking at Polk “I feel like such an idiot.”

“Why?” Polk asked as she took the pipe.

“I was so mad at you when I left,” she paused looking for words “or at least, I thought I was mad. I think I was just jealous,” she looked around, “I thought you guys were looking for a way to get rid of me.”

“Naw,” Vaughan said, then he rotated his hands at Polk in a 'hurry it up' type gesture “You're a badass. Nobody could replace you,” he said, and Polk took the hint and lit the pipe.

Ben came out of the RV, holding a stack of papers. “Have any of you heard of the Cult of Advancement?” Polk took her hit and handed Vaughan the pipe, shaking her head no, she hadn't heard of it.

McCrea's eyes lit up dimly in reconition “I saw them come up during the research binge after we went to Oaisis Moutntain,” he said, referencing the dungeon in the casual way they had adopted after returning. Vaughan mumbled 'New afganistan', and took his time with the pipe.

“Ever find anything concrete about them?” Ben asked

“Nah. I was busier looking up typical monster weaknesses and traps found in dungeons. We still need you to let us know everything to expect when we go back, by the way. But we'll get to that later, I'm guessing you found something?”

“Yeah, how about the time they took over the government in a midwestern town called Fern Creek back in the forties. They flooded the town, swept the local elections, and made some radical changes.”

The blurred attention of the group sharpened a bit on Ben.

“What happened?” McCrea asked.

“Some Jonestown shit with an extra dose of weird. One day, everybody vanished, the place was a ghost town. Every door and window was wide open, even all the sewer lids had been opened. No bodies, but. . . well, things were sort of warped,” Ben said, struggling to find a way to describe what he'd read “like the trash cans, right? They had weird artwork all over them, faces and all sorts of weird shit warped into them. The streets looked like they'd melted and spread everywhere like butter. The investigators kept slipping on all the loose rock that was sitting on top of the ruined asphalt. Everything was a little off, you know? Then the war happened,” everybody knew which war he was talking about “and national attention was turned to something a little easier to understand.”

Ben shook the papers in his hand “That was a mystery until I found these old MIT papers from the twenties. Don't ask me how I came upon them, trust me it was a total coincidence and a little bit of knowing what to look for, but I'm 95% sure the founder of that cult wrote them. Nobody's made this connection yet, that I can guarantee. It's all pretty scientific, but from what I've been able to gather, he thought he had detected a program or system or like, a blueprint that was built into the foundation of reality, the basis of evolution and learning. He started calling it,” Ben paused, goosebumps forming on everybody's skin “The Dungeon.”

“Well, fuck,” Vaughan said rubbing his arms “Lets learn everything we can about this guy. What was his name?”

“The Master, that's all I could find about him online. Funny thing though,” the goosebumps got more intense, making their collective skins feel like they were constricting their bodies “I've heard Melchsee talk about him when she's really, really drunk.”

–

Johnnie was laying in bed, frowning. He turned from one side, then to the other side, not even attempting to close his eyes. He 'hmmmmmm'd loudly while turning, attempting to feel somewhat comfortable. It was not the battle with strange monsters; monsters a man in vaguely religious clothing had explained came from another dimension, that was playing through his mind. No, the scene that occupied his mental space was of him watching like a big dumb child while another man in fancier clothes, fearlessly approached monsters from another dimension and turned them into money and shiny rocks.

Even that scene was only secondary to his real concern. The man had caught something from out of the air and put it in his pocket. He had turned everything else over to Johnny, seriously convincing him it was incredibly important that he hold onto the silver coins and two half dollar sized crystals he had recovered from the lizards. Johnnie, like a little baby, had just believed him point blank.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Johnnie shot up and threw the sheets off of his body. He had been a professional criminal for over fifteen years, working for some of the best conmen in the business. Vegas conmen. Yet, in that moment, staring into those intense eyes and listening to the total gravity in the man's voice, Johnnie had eaten the shit sandwich and asked for seconds. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. While it was ringing, he mumbled to himself.

“Goddammit, it just ain't fair.” The call connected, and Johnnie started talking “Hey, Lou. I think we've got something to talk about, and I think you'll be familiar with what I'm describing. Get your ass back to Hope,” There was a pause “No, I don't give a fuck, tell that Irish fucker Karen to go eat a dick, I need you over here.” Another pause. “Yeah, I know. You told me so. There's something weird going on, and I'll listen this time. No, not over the phone, I want you and that slab of muscle to get over here and we'll talk about it in person.” A long pause “Ben? Danny's kid? What's he got to do with it?”

–

Casimer awoke with a start, and realized the situation had deteriorated in his absence. All over the place, crimson tears in reality had opened, and spat out monsters. There were nearly a dozen when he awoke, and he was able to close them up without much effort, and that no new portals appeared to replace them. Casimer assumed that his absence had contributed the the situation, and what a situation it was.

All over the mountain, the invaders fought with his native monsters, seeking them out and destroying them relentlessly. Worse, when they successfully killed one, which was the norm rather than the exception, they absorbed all of the mana and left nothing behind. Several of the survivors of the transport bus were starting to get a grip on their situation, and fighting back; one little boy in particular was thriving, running around and gaining strength at an alarming rate. Then, finally, the petitioners.

Flying around the peak was a swarm of tiny green people, humanoid moths if Casimer had to describe them, anywhere from six to twelve inches tall. Buffeted about by the wind, which the creatures clearly commanded, were large packages. They were singing, constantly singing, their little voices echoing farther than he could have imagined for something so small. Their song had only two lines, repeated in endless variations and tones.

The land long promised, found at last. Our endless exile, finally is past.

Melchsee was nowhere to be found, and no matter how he called her, she would not respond. “Fine,” Casimer boomed, the entire Dungeon of Oasis Mountain trembling “I'll take care of this myself.”

Casimer got to work, utilizing a natural cave system in the mountain and expanding it. He hollowed out large cavities and connected them with smooth, circular passages that ended in sheer drops concealed by thin stone that would break under the weight of anything bigger than a large dog. The entrance was easily accessible, and seemed to invite entry. The entire structure was a trap, a jail designed to capture and hold anything foolish enough to be enticed.

The moment he completed it, a status window appeared and informed him he had created a new structure, then gave him a list of new materials he'd never encountered before. It was fascinating, and Casimer swore to himself to look into it later, when he wasn't so busy. It was obvious to him that the dungeon spawn were mostly mindless beasts, driven to seek out the highest concentration of mana possible and consume it. Thus, there was an easy way to lure them in. Conveniently, the list of materials had something that was the perfect bait.

Name: Mana Crystal.

The keys to magic and the foundation of a civilized world, the ability to store and transport mana in a stable medium has long been considered the backbone of true prosperity. These crystals are formed naturally in dungeons, and may be synthesized by an alchemist. The light purple of these crystals indicates that the mana they contain is exceptionally pure. This item has universal uses among all trades.

Each and every crystal formation Casimer created hurt, both from the sheer amount of mana needed to make them, and the effort of holding such a magically dense material together. He placed them on the walls and ceilings over the pitfalls and waited. It didn't take long, the first crystal placed made each and every dungeon spawn, all of which were chaos lizards, snap their heads in the direction of the new cave, and they rushed towards it. One at a time, they entered and turned towards the nearest formation of mana crystals, and promptly fell into their inescapable cells. They scratched at the walls and spat acid and hissed in rage. But they couldn't get out.

Casimer adopted Ben's human body just so he would have a face to smirk with. Stupid animals. Like insects to sugar.

Satisfied, he turned his attention to the little boy, who was accumulating Mana at an alarming rate and seemed to be able to yell at the ground until some sort of rock monster jumped out of it and followed him around, defending him and doing a damn good job of defeating pretty much anything it came up against. More worrying than that, was the fact the the boy had amassed a small army of about fifteen of these things.

“Hmm,” Casimer said “What to do about that.” He turned his attention to the other survivors, all scattered about and struggling to stay alive. Most of them had manifested some sort of ability of one variety or another, but none of them had. . . adapted, quite as enthusiastically as the little boy. If Melchsee were around, she would have suggested something horrible to quickly end the threat.

“She's not around though,” he mused aloud “and I'm not really starving to death,” he continued “and he is a fierce little bug,” he admitted “so. . . why not just. . .” Casimer's borrowed eyebrows rose and his face smiled “let him be? He's really just doing a great job cleaning the place up. These monsters have been breeding unchecked, and Ben just cant keep up with it these days.” He sent the boy an open ended quest to kill as many monsters as he could before the end of the day. Casimer smirked again when he saw the boy double his efforts.

Satisfied that he'd found the optimal solution, Casimer willed a status window into existence in front of him. Instead of a blank, blue window, which was the default, it now contained an icon of the planet earth in high resolution pixel art, viewed from space. The colors were bright and exciting, and the world turned slowly, next to it was written 'Welcome to the System of Human Advancement Beta'.

Casimer tapped on the screen, and it began to display information. Detailed information, all about him. Skills, abilities, and paths to improve that he had frankly never considered before. Casimer admitted that he didn't understand any of it, but it all sounded great. The borrowed body of Ben dissolved in a cascade of pink slime; Ben hated it when he did that, and reformed in the radio tower control room. He picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number.

“Ben? Hey, little buddy! Could you come over real fast? I need some help making sense of something,” a pause “Friends? You have friends? Oh, those friends. Sure, bring them. I can give them the tour.”

High overhead, the singing continued. Casimer looked up, then did a brief sweep of the mountain with his awareness. Another rift had formed, and this one was wasn't closing. A chaos lizard crawled from it, hissed, then ran towards Casimer's trap.

“Yeah, just tell them thing's are a little off kilter at the moment. You'll want to come armed, definitely, yeah.”