Chapter 5: The First Unexpected Guest

Of course, I did now genuinely feel bad for setting the house on fire. If I had any doubts, the new achievement of “Homewrecker” now haunted my status screen. What’s done is done. No use crying over spilled bees.

Except I really did not want to get in trouble when four corpses were discovered next to me. Well, three, now. Maybe I’d get lucky and the local authorities would be understanding that this was all some big misunderstanding!

I doubted that. As a Dungeon Core I could no longer play the “innocent old lady” card to get away from consequences. I had been given a sliver of freedom. And I didn’t want to lose it. I wouldn’t be able to handle rock jail!

I tried Mana Dusting away the skeletal remains. To my surprise, when I reached out with my minds towards the body with the shattered skull, it disintegrated with the faintest touch. I barely brushed up against the bones and they immediately crumbled into bone dust before changing into smoky mana.

My shiny mauve core promptly gobbled up the smoke. Yummy. Nothing like huffing bone dust first thing in the morning.

Ah, yes. I had noticed my Mana did not level rise. I mean, I had just barely Mana Dusted away half the house, so that made sense. The “Capacity” capped out at twenty.

I supposed I couldn’t complain. I was taught to be thankful and let nothing go to waste. There are children in Africa who never get to have bone dust.

Well, that was easy peasy. Onto the next one!

I immediately ran up against that invisible wall again. Just like last time. Or like when I try to step past the porch. While I could Mana Dust around the two bodies, I couldn’t touch them at all. I was stumped. There was some rule that somebody wasn’t telling me. Figures.

I currently didn’t have any other great methods for corpse disposal. I could collapse the floorboards under them. Or bury them under dirt. But no. The former would take too long and the latter might put me to sleep. I was on borrowed time. Someone could show up at any moment to investigate. That amount of smoke must have been seen from miles away.

The solution seemed to be in my other abilities. Miss Flightcrew said that I had a new Power and Skill to choose from. I reckoned there laid my path ahead. If not, I”ll bury them under a tree. That might be nice.

I pulled up my status screen:

[MERRIWEATHER DUNGEON

GEOBLOOM CORE (LEVEL 2)

MANA CAPACITY: 20/20

MANA RENEWAL RATE: 1

MINIONS: N/A

TRAP INTEGRITY: N/A

LOOT VALUE: N/A

AVAILABLE SKILLS:

LEYLINE KNITTING (LVL 1)

GARDENCRAFT (LVL 2)

MANA DUSTING (LVL 7)

UNLOCKED POWERS:

WEARY BONES AURA

SCRAPBOOK SOULSTEW

TITLES GAINED:

HOMEWRECKER]

Hmmm… Interesting. Yup.

Still had no idea what half of that meant. Presumably, I gathered a bunch of mana from Mana Dusting. And the Gardencraft Skill probably let me grow trees. But I still didn’t know what a “Leyline” was. Nor what my powers did. “Scrapbook soulstew” were all individual words I understood, but sounded revolting when said together like that.

I opened up the Skill options first, since those seemed more immediately useful. These words were read out to me by a different voice. Praise the lord. I didn’t think I could handle every menu being read out by that one lady. This new woman seemed much more casual, yet still very hospitable and almost conspiratorial. She reminded me of this waitress in the south. I think her name was Milly? She poured an extra shot of espresso in my coffee for free. Along with a shot of whiskey. Bless her soul. Honestly. She had the best gossip.

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

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If the original attendant lady spoke some of these descriptions I would have been downright put off by her cheekiness. If she was a server I would have been mighty tempted to stiff her on the tip.

Fortunately, I didn’t mind this sass coming from my new favorite video game gossip lady. It was part of her charm. Her voice brought back fond memories of my favorite local diner. Having no physical body had its perks. I had not experienced a single achy joint or hunger pain. But for the first time I found myself suddenly craving some of that greasy grub. Their breakfast was to die for. I would do it again, just for some of that ‘Same Old Stuff’ on top of a few scones.

I chided myself. Not now, Ethel. Reminisce later.

Where was I? Oh, right, Getting away with possible murder.

I was absolutely tempted to take the Stiff Stitches. I could have used an extra set of helping hands in the kitchen. Especially before I tore the kitchen out of existence. And good, honest workers were certainly hard to come by right now.

Sewing and needlework were actual skills I possessed in my previous life. Surely that would be one of the few things in this world I actually understood. I could level that up in a jiffy.

But that whole part about bad Karma and undeath? Woah, Nelly! That put the fear of God right back in me. My mother would have had a conniption in the afterlife if she ever found out I started doing devil magic.

Huh. I wondered if she’s here too. I shuddered at the thought.

I decided to distract myself from such dark thoughts by carefully re-reading the choices again. These four options weren’t the only ones. My other three current skills were presented below these, but this time with a plus symbol next to their numerical levels. This implied to me I could manually increase one of those without having to put in the work. I could see the value increasing my Mana Dusting. But was that really necessary at this point? Leyline Knitting was useless so far. Gardencraft leveled after being used only once. Besides, using these skill points this way felt like taking the easy route. Only ne'er do wells and vagabonds would try to avoid good, honest work. One had to get their hands dirty for character growth.

My next impulse was to select Soul Stroll. But right before I clicked that option, I paused and told myself to not be hasty. I may be a stubborn ol’ biddy, but I can also be a quick learner at times. I decided I wouldn’t make any selections until I took a gander at my other options first.

I pushed the Skill options off to the side and opened up the Power Screen next.

(See? Look at me go! Zoomin’ around these newfangled screens. A quick learner, I tell ya’!)

This time my two current Powers weren’t listed at all. Instead, there were several new ones. The gossip lady, Milly - I had affectionately taken to calling her, told me all about what Powers awaited me.

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I can’t say much, but let me give you some friendly advice: Elemental Affinities can set you on the right path if you’re feeling a little lost. If you’d like help on deciding, might I suggest the Fae Affinity? And if you’re feeling more audacious, I’d recommend the Death Affinity. Take your time. You can always choose another one later. Give me a holler when you’re ready.>

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Additionally, the Brittle condition will be applied to low level or injured vertebrates, increasing the rate of Critical Strike Damage against them.

The aura can be toggled on or off at will.>

Why, thank you, kindly, Milly. All these options seem… adequate. The descriptions are certainly enlightening. Why can’t more of your coworkers be like you? I don’t know why the flight attendant lady had to be so rude and refuse to even give me a safety instruction video for this trip, but it appears Milly has my back.

But what was I supposed to do with rambunctious dust bunnies?

Even worse than that. I surmised that I could upgrade “Weary Bones Aura” into “Brittle Bones Aura.” It was a Power that inflicted bad knees upon people?

That’s… Oh my word!

Maybe I got this all wrong. Maybe I’m not the one being tortured. Maybe I AM the torture device!

I’m sorry, Milly. I really appreciate the advice. I don’t see how your suggestions on new Powers will help me get out of this bind, but right now you’re the only one I can trust.

I mentally reached out to make my selection.

And was interrupted by a loud groan.

“Ah, fuck. My back. Why. Why does my back still hurt?”

I hesitantly closed down the Skill tree. Who was that? Nobody had entered my field of vision.

One of the skeletons. The one with the eyepatch. It was moving!

The skeleton groaned loudly again in a masculine voice, heaved itself to a sitting position, then took a deep breath. (I could only describe it as that. Its head titled back and its spined straightened out, before slouching again).

The voice that came from the skeleton was higher pitched, yet distinctly male. I presumed. I could never keep up with any pronouns besides “hey, you.” The skeleton man had a voice that reminded me of a New Jersey dock worker I once dated in college. He was a prick. Good in the sack. But still a prick.

“Oyy, Jellybee! You alright? Heauggegh!” As he tried to stand up he let out a definitive and classic ‘old man getting up from sitting too long on the floor’ noise. His knees wobbled for a moment and he almost teetered before he straightened out. “Ha! Made it.” He popped his back spine and let out a hearty grunt.

I selected the “Soul Stroll” Skill.