Half an hour later Croc and I were sitting on a bench in front of a Froyo place called Yogurt Oasis. We’d come here because Yogurt Oasis happened to be the closest store with a working bathroom, and not in any way because I begrudgingly wanted to make Croc happy. The shop was tiny and manned by only a single level 2 Dweller, called a Seasonal Work Goblin. One Bleach Bolt cleansed the world of the goblin’s existence in less than two minutes, leaving behind a burbling corpse and a single Common Relic Shard.

I caught sight of all the delicious-looking containers of frozen yogurt as I looted the creature’s corpse. I hated myself for admitting it, but Froyo did sound amazing. Maybe it was because I’d very nearly died a few minutes before, or maybe it was because I hadn’t eaten anything but a candy bar in more than a day. But either way, I couldn’t take my eyes off the Sumatra Coffee Blend, which was an unbroken swirl of white and brown frozen goodness. It smelled like caffeine, chocolate, and happiness.

But how could I possibly eat something so delicious after literally feeding another living being into an industrial-sized kitchen blender?

Just the thought of doing it was immoral.

Unethical.

Disgusting.

Honestly, I should’ve been ashamed of myself.

I did it anyway. My gut told me that the random monster toddler from the Arcade would want me to honor its memory with joy, not sorrow.

But before digging in, I made sure to thoroughly scrub off the caked-on blood and wring the gristly chunks of ghost meat out of my undershirt. Just as the ghost child would’ve wanted. It was a losing battle, unfortunately. My undershirt was so stained with blood that it looked solidly red instead of white. Well, faded pink really, since I’d tried to wash it in the sink.

Although it was an Artifact with a Personal Significance, it didn’t have any effects yet, and I couldn’t stomach the thought of wearing it. Not until I found a way to properly wash it. I stowed it in storage and fished out a loose black T-shirt that read, “Existence is a Joke, and We Are the Punchline.”

Croc was sitting beside me with a cup of Passion Mango Citrus Sorbet. The mimic had sprouted human hands at the end of his forelimbs but had left the rest of its dog body more or less the same. Was it disturbing? Not after what I’d witnessed in the Arcade. The Lobby Greeters had been terrifying, and the bathroom Janitor would haunt my nightmares for years to come, but they all dimmed in comparison to the Murder Muncher and the geyser of blood that had soaked me from head to toe.

Everything was a walk in the park compared to that.

Croc enjoyed the sorbet in contemplative silence, which was a nice change of pace, while I polished off the rest of my Sumatra Coffee Blend then pulled out the capsules I’d taken from the Arcade. I’d suffered extreme psychological trauma and had nearly died to get these damned things—I just hoped it was all worth it.

I had three silver capsules, one gold, and one with a sparkling diamond lid.

I moved to pop the lid of the diamond capsule, but Croc stopped me.

“Wait, you can’t do that,” it said, sounding personally scandalized.

“Why the hell not?” I asked. “This is the best one, so I should start with it first.”

“That’s exactly why you can’t start with it first,” Croc replied, rolling its eyes. “Trust me, that one is going to be amazing, but then the rest of them will feel underwhelming, even though they’re actually great prizes. But if you start with the silvers and work your way up, then the anticipation will build and build. Trust me, it’s far more satisfying to do it that way.”

I grunted noncommittally but didn’t feel like arguing with the dog. I was going to open them all anyway, so if Croc wanted to save the best for last, I could do that.

“Fine,” I said, swapping out the diamond capsule for one of the silvers and wriggling the top off with my thumb.

I systematically opened the three silvers, one right after another. The items weren’t world-breaking by any stretch of the imagination, but they were all useful enough in their own way. The Silver Delver capsule rewarded me with an Artifact called Twinning String. It resembled a big ball of red yarn, which sounded lame as hell, but was actually kinda badass.

The way it worked was both simple and ingenious.

First, you cut off a length of yarn, cut that piece in half again, then tied one section around your finger and the other around literally anything else—typically another person or a distant location. The two pieces of yarn were then Twinned together, and you could conjure a wispy blue line that connected the first piece of yarn to the second. It was in every conceivable way inferior to my Unerring Arrow spell, but it would be an invaluable lifeline to anyone else.

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I didn’t have any need for it, but I was sure I could get a hefty premium for the yarn.

The Silver Medic! capsule yielded a One-Time-Use Artifact called the Healing Hand Grenade.

Ironically, it didn’t look like a hand grenade at all. Instead, it looked like one of those cheap, green water balloons you could get at the supermarket for a buck or two. The kind that was as thin as tissue paper and would pop if you looked at ’em the wrong way. Naturally, it was filled with Zima. But the effect did exactly like what it sounded like. Wind back and chuck the balloon into a group of friendlies, instantly healing up to 200 points of damage to all allies in the thirty-foot area of effect.

I stored that so I wouldn’t accidentally pop it.

The silver Elementalist capsule ended up being the best of the lot. It granted me a flat 8% resistance to Fire Damage, increased Burn Damage Regeneration rate by 12%, and made the item it was attached to fireproof. There was one minor catch, though. It could only be attached to armor classified as “pants.” Which meant my frayed, ass-hugging jorts. It was annoying, but between that and the Gremlin’s Groin Guardian Relic, at least I knew the ol’ family jewels would be taken care of.

When I opened the gold-lidded capsule, I found a golden medallion, suspended from a gold chain with thick links. On one side was a giant thumbs-up. On the back were the words, “Researcher Approved!”

Seal of the Researcher

Fabled Artifact

Type: One-Time Use

Well look at you, Mr. Hot Shit. Earning a personal nod from the Researcher himself. Not too shabby. You must’ve done something pretty fuckin’ impressive because he doesn’t just go around handing these bad boys out, believe you me.

This is a one-and-done item and serves as a personal voucher from the big guy. The Researcher holds a lot of sway with certain Backrooms factions, and if you present them with this talisman, they’ll treat you like a favorite nephew and allow you to operate freely within their territory. It’s a lot more impressive than it sounds. Remember, in a world where everyone’s gunning for you, it’s damned good to have a token telling them to aim elsewhere.

As for the last item, it was a Sigil Stone and ended up being every bit as good as the Gavel of Get Fucked, which I’d received from the Ruby Warlord Token. Hell, it might’ve been better.

Mana Capacitor

Fabled Sigil

Type: Cloth Armor Sigil

Armor is great… If you’re a loser who plans on getting punched in the teeth all the time like a bitch.

Which is why you don’t want an armor upgrade. Nope, what you really want is a Mana upgrade—because no one can punch you in the teeth if you set ’em on fire with your mind or use a Relic to turn them into USDA-certified organic meat paste. Enter Mana Capacitor. Let’s call it what it really is, a giant magical battery that will supercharge your abilities.

What’s not to love?

Mana Capacitor increases your total maximum Mana Pool by 15%, increases your overall Mana Regeneration Rate by 10%, and has a 5% chance to trigger Wild Surge when using any Relic that costs Mana. Wild Surge instantly replenishes 50% of your total Mana Pool, increases Mana Regeneration by 25% for 2 minutes, and has a 50% chance of duplicating the original trigger spell at no additional Mana cost.

After reading through the description three separate times, I decided it was significantly better than the Gavel Sigil. Although Gavel of Get Fucked offered some extraordinary effects, it was limited in scope, could only be used while wielding my hammer during melee combat, and drained Stamina to activate. The Mana Capacitor, on the other hand, was a passive that would drastically boost my overall Mana Pool and Regen Rate, plus the Wild Surge ability alone was worth its weight in gold.

There was one serious drawback, which felt like a kick in the ballsack.

Restriction: Must be affixed to an item that qualifies as cloth armor.

Naturally, I had exactly one Artifact item that qualified as cloth armor, and it wasn’t my boots, jorts, undershirt, or tool belt. I pulled off the stupid, ass-ugly Versace bathrobe. It was bright red with black cuffs and a black belt, decorated with baroque golden statues and weird Grecian shit. I didn’t have anything else, and this item not only met the requirements but also had Personal Significance, which meant it would scale with me as I leveled. Of all the items I’d Noclipped in with, the bathrobe was the one I hated the most.

And if I added the Mana Capacitor, I’d never be rid of the damned thing. It would haunt me for the rest of my time here—which could be forever, so far as I knew.

“Screw me,” I grumbled, pressing the sigil stone against the robe, then confirming the prompt that followed.

There was a flash of light as the items melded together and a glowing blue sigil, perfectly mirroring the symbol from the stone, appeared bright and bold on the back of the robe.

With a disgruntled sigh, I slung the robe around my shoulders and slid my arms into the sleeves, instantly feeling a tremendous surge of power rush through me like a crackling bolt of electricity. I looked dumb as hell, but fashion didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Only survival. And the Mana Capacitor would help me survive.

“You ready?” I asked as Croc finished the last drags of sorbet. “Because we’ve already wasted too much time as it is.”

Croc took one last longing look at the Froyo and nodded sadly.

Then, because I was both a jackass and a sucker, I easily vaulted over the counter and grabbed each of the stowed tubs of Froyo, disappearing them all to my Storage System. I still had plenty of room to spare and the space was time-locked, so the Froyo would probably last longer than I was going to.

“For later,” I said as Croc visibly brightened.

“You really are the best friend, Dan,” Croc replied. “Let’s go get you to Walgreens so you can finally get the life-saving medication—which is definitely not hemorrhoid cream—that you so desperately need!”