This was the weirdest morning exercise of my life.

Brooming away bubbles made for mindless work, but at least there weren’t too many. The side paths for harvesting didn’t get any extra care and were slowly getting overrun, but the main lane to the stairway held up rather well. Today’s plan wasn’t particularly ambitious. There were a few things to check and do, followed by lots of scouting. Yesterday’s jaunt gave me 3 levels and coincidentally, 3 magical endurance as well. My energy sat at 32, with 200 c as backup. I descended.

My underground vision range improved once again. A scientific wild ass guess put it at about 12 meters total, since my ME surpassed 120 now. The first item on my to-do list brought me north to the ambush site. No resistance barred my path. Suspicious as hell. A quick experiment showed it was possible to manifest my shieldsword already lodged inside the anchoring spot I’d made. Good to know. It might have been a bit unnecessary to test here, but it felt appropriate. Then it was time for the fun stuff.

In keeping with my new favorite hobby, I scratched ‘possible ambush soon’ about fifteen minutes ahead of, and before the surprise attack location. Similar crude drawings welcomed any future visitors, describing the Errant and their observed behavior on the wall directly opposite the lengthy staircase. Couldn’t miss it.

My explorations took me south next, as predicted it didn’t take overly long for me to reach a gauntlet of traps, vandalizing directions along the way. Only shifting shadows and silence kept me company. There were no Errant here either. A chucked handful of wooden cubes failed to reveal anything special about this murder machine section, even the distribution between physical and magical traps felt roughly the same. The next step of my planned outing brought me back to my entry-point and a rest some way up the steps. My empty waterskin, and everything else that wasn’t a combat necessity, joined the rest of my stash here. So far, nothing eventful happened, but peace couldn’t last in the new world and a long smoke helped me delay the inevitable.

I’d given some thought to the general lay-out and what it meant while scratching crisscrossing lines on my practice plate last night. My simplified mental map of the Underway formed as a square. My original pass-through had likely been along the left edge of it, with the southern stairway being near the bottom left corner and top left for the northern one, coinciding with the aboveground zone changes. Moreover, there was no specific pattern to where Errant showed up, other than it probably being something close to an even distribution, based on the immobile types. For the rest, the fact they wandered and cannibalized each other up to varying degrees complicated any definitive conclusions without setting up some kind of observational study, which wasn’t happening.

Despite a lack of precise information, a few general things were known. For one, it made sense that the ‘middle’ of a zone generally tended to ramp up faster because there were more directions to accidentally meet new friends from and devour them. This also caused a smaller density of ones, as they became lunch for the big boys. But at some point things got strange, provoking theories and warranting worries. As a zone filled up with mature Errant, lesser ones became increasingly rare, yet the density of maxxed monsters grew. Long story short, areas were always in flux and any limits remained purely theoretical, mostly because zones were harvested for materials and levels at some point, resetting the situation. A last drag finished my pipe, followed by tapping clicks and then the scrape of my bic, a new batch lit up.

The Underway complicated this slightly, as the mazelike architecture prevented any quick and dirty conclusions. Leadership treated the underground of our northward mini mountain as a swarming source of income, not something to be explored - although that might change soon. No further entrances had been discovered either and I held the prodigious spot of having found the most in our little community.

Then there were the other little things which went unprocessed during my solo survival. Such as the body snatcher bundles and how they returned to the forest of death, how the phase worms remained absent until a bus-sized one appeared – doubted it was a 1 – and the slow-ass snakedrop rocks, who displayed more variation in their stages. Some of those peculiarities possibly meant something. Combined with the recent changes, all the pieces fell in place and coalesced into a fucking headache. Confirmed, I have no idea what’s going on. A second pile of ash joined the first.

Barry talked a lot. Gut feeling, my ass. He probably just liked being deliberately obtuse. Couldn’t ignore that something was happening, it was time to wander east and find out what exactly. As usual, oddly angled intersections and constant dead ends slowed everything down. About two hours and then some passed before I came across a trio of angry cats. They kindly lined up in response to my rapid backsteps and thus became victims to a double launch, fives all. Not a fluke, then. No ones, two’s, three’s or four’s graced my path. My objectives were complete and my return journey proved uneventful.

My findings and reasoning made the rounds before we all retired to our small tents, content with our consensus: suspicious as fuck. Our shift at the farm was some way off still, so we weren’t in a hurry. Day three of tunnel-walking proceeded with more efficiency, guided north-east towards the presumed middle by omnipresent vandalism, and finally led to something notable. Along the way, three packs of three daggerclaws bit the dust, the third of which shed some light on the situation.

For once they didn’t get the drop on me. They were unusually loud. Constant, irregular scratches broadcasted their location and a convenient corner provided a hiding place. An unusual sight greeted my jump out of stealth - quickly replaced by a smoky mist, but not before I got the gist of things.

One of the full-grown bastards herded a dog sized daggerclaw - later confirmed to be a one. It survived the piercing projectile by virtue of being overshot. It was faster than the bigger ones but not nearly quick enough to harm me and a duo of mind-controlled blades rendered it helpless. Oddly enough, they’d been going east. A curious, long-ass detour connected their path with familiar westward territory and resulted in yet more backtracking, the bane of my existence.

It was after two more days of traveling vaguely north-east, vandalizing walls, brutalizing the occasional patrol and bullying both surviving and lone little ones that I hit the jackpot. Rather than endless hallways, there were rooms in this section, further suggesting bullshit was afoot. Once again there were a lot of the fuckers, so five. They weren’t coming after me, instead arranging themselves in a semi-circle within the room, something close to an ideal defensive posture.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Tough shit, I wasn’t a melee guy.

It was weird though, they refrained from any action, even allowing a quick peek around the corner. Two more hugged the wall on each side of the room, out of sight from the hallway. I backed off a bit, about a meter and a half, and rechecked the straps on my quiver - rearranged upside-down as reaching over my shoulder for a refill felt a little cumbersome. My spot presented a pair of good diagonal angles towards the far corners of the room, where the crescent of kitties was two deep. Breathe in, breathe out, let loose.

Premeditated shots snagged four kills. I put down the wall-huggers shortly after stepping into the room, and then danced around with the last one, honing my fighting skills and saving energy. Slipping and dodging ended up feeling dumb and my tactics reverted to ‘shoot anything before it moves’. The loot went towards my energy reserves instead of bone metal plates, had to stay light and ready to fight.

That turned out to have been a good idea, because the slaughter initiated a shitstorm. Some poorly remembered geometry suggested these rooms were close to the center, so it had been somewhat expected. A casual walk towards the east, along suddenly straight hallways with no branches, led into a procession of murdercats heading my way. A fivefold launch destroyed it.

Exercise and physical endurance paid off as my stroll turned into a run, my stamina felt endless.

I came across another room, empty, and found another cat-pack further east shortly after. Same numbers, same result. Another half-moon formation waited for me in the next. Couldn’t complain about the crappy tactics, then again there were no good options for the fake felines. The terrain favored me, overwhelmingly. The passageways further ahead returned to their bizarre labyrinthine lay-out, prompting a U-turn. The previously empty room contained three waiting daggerclaws, all summarily executed. I was getting good at rapid firing.

I sped north but slowed down when my vision range decreased until it reverted to 10 meters again. The outline of another room expanded from the darkness, but an emerging shape interrupted my scanning. A subtly different armored daggerclaw, the black armor had a swirling inkiness to it, made itself known by leaping in. It caught me off guard. No loud, smashing brace of claws sinking into stone had preceded it.

My instincts kicked in, sending out a twenty-fiver while back stepping furiously. The killer-kitty shifted and my speedy sword, which I could barely track, glanced off with the sound of a hammer striking metal. Oh shit. At least the impact left a visible groove where it had deflected across the exoskeleton encasing the Errants chest.

I heard it fumble the landing but didn’t stick around to see the result. An impulse to leg it the fuck out of here took precedence instead. My vision pulsed, lengthening and shortening at a steady pace. Upon reaching the room, thankfully empty, I pitched a penta-launch down the corridor and continued west at full speed, a brushing touch reloaded my sheath. My breath labored, but blind panic fueled the mad dash regardless, expanding vision signaled gained distance and spurred me on. Shit, another ambush.

With only a second to decide, another diagonal strike took out two assailants, coinciding with my first step into the room. Following in the wake of my attack, a low slide dodged the chaotic frenzy of surging cats. I almost fumbled the recovery and passed them by amidst a soundtrack of scratchy tumbling. The maneuver cost me, claustrophobic shadows closed in. A crash rang out behind me.

Hasty glances at scribbled directions probably saved my life, providing a clear path away. Eventually my frantic run slowed down to a jog and then a few dozen seconds of standing still. Not endless. In truth, I couldn’t keep going anymore, completely out of breath. It seemed safe enough, no pursuers appeared. The rest of my trek happened in intervals, with only a few dead and dissolved ones to mark my passage. New markings joined previous ones opposite the stairs. I didn’t berate myself for fleeing while ascending the winding steps.

I’d accomplished my objectives and the matchup was terrible. There was no point in betting my life on whether a desperate full-bar shot could actually damage the monster, especially with patrols seemingly closing in on me. No injuries and a successful escape felt like victory, even though it had cost me three swords, including the cracked one. Recovering them was out of the question and no ideas of rematches crossed my mind, nor would they until I was a lot stronger, with more reserves and ammo - if even then. Five days’ worth of regeneration was a small price to pay for my life.

By late evening the others arrived to join me at camp. I shared my findings and we all agreed that we’d head back to the village tomorrow. Our staging ground felt a lot less safe, so close to a series of unculled zones. Walt and Jill favored some early shuteye, meanwhile Barry and I had some co-conspirating to do. We walked well out of earshot, out of consideration for them and ourselves.

“Think she’ll pay for the info?” I asked.

“If ya phrase it right, she might.”

“Hmm.” I glanced at my tent. My quiver was inside but out of sight. “Let’s say I lost five swords in there instead of three…”

“Askin’ her to reimburse ya? That’s good. That’s really good. She can be harsh, but she’s fair, it’s how I always wring her.”

“Perfect, I’ll hide two and walk home with an empty quiver.”

“Ought’a sell it better, but I ain’t thinkin’ she’ll ask our fellows ‘bout it.”

“Eh, can’t hurt right?”

A poor night’s sleep and many smokes later, it was time to set out - nightmares of ineffectual attacks woke me up several times. I summoned a sword and aired complaints about losing most. Jill didn’t get to hunt much on the way, since we needed everyone for carrying duty. The return trip lasted two days and was mostly uneventful.

Halfway through the first, Jill suggested we pause for a bit so she could go on a killing spree as the density of vinesnap traps was high. We agreed out of sheer laziness but she never got the chance. Had she gone ahead a little earlier, she would have been a lot worse off than missing out on some free kills had left her. We witnessed a singularity event, which motivated everyone to hurry the hell up afterwards.

It all happened blindingly fast, Walt even missed it entirely. Snap, snap, snap, snap, snap; a rapid succession, too fast to count but increasingly louder. Dust and pieces of dirt flew every which way in a widespread puff of particles and plant matter. I couldn’t see shit until it all settled. An intricate web of hair thin vines covered the ground, just meters in front of Jill. She stood frozen in place, then fell in a backward stumble, visibly trembling after landing on her ass.

Everyone else shuffled away, but I couldn’t resist.

The others covered their ears, spouting angry expletives at me – probably, couldn’t actually hear them.

I had thrown a handful of cubes at a large black flowerbed in the distance. The cubes disintegrated into nothing right before a thunderous crack resounded. A flinch and a wall of wind caused me to take a stabilizing step. Jesus Christ. At this rate I was never getting a full night’s sleep.

A mat of interwoven fine strings slowly descended in feathery fashion, blanketing the ground in a large circular pattern once more. Jill’s borrowed ten-pack of javelins went unused from that point on. Upon arriving at the village, she collected her pay from Barry, deposited the throwing spears in the village armory and headed straight for the pub.

I couldn’t blame her.