Zack awoke minutes before his alarm, rolling over in his luxuriously soft bed. Having slept on a fist thin mattress for the majority of his life, he was still getting used to the privileged lifestyle. Dark clouds gathered above the city skyline, reminding him of the weather from yesterday when the earthquake swallowed him up.

It was kind of a shame, really, how hard he struggled for much of his life to escape from poverty, only to have his time left on this world reduced to possibly one last week of hard earned luxury left before he got clobbered and left this life in a bodybag.

Maybe the old saying was right, ignorance is bliss when it comes to knowing your own mortality.

He got out of bed and freshened up in his immaculate marble bathroom, kept spotless by the cleaning maids who came in every other week.

After that, he went to the table and deposited all the miscellaneous supplies he’d collected from various corners of his apartment the night before into his inventory, each item vanishing into a neat slot. Most of the supplies were small items, like the water flasks and painkiller container.

Naturally, the process of clearing out his apartment into an invisible storage unit led him to inquire about a unique curiosity of his inventory.

“Hm. Could I put big stuff in here as well?” he mused. He wondered if this inventory was truly bottomless. If so, why did he need to carry anything on his person anymore? He could just store all his possessions like his toothbrush and shampoo into his inventory.

Zack deposited his L-shaped sofa into the inventory, the entire thing now rotating in its own separate slot.

Immediately, he felt a weight pressing down on him from his shoulders, like gravity had intensified.

A runic text notification popped up, the first time he saw one since he left the dungeon.

[You are overloaded. Your movement will be slowed.]

Congratulations! New achievement. Carrius Maximus.

You have deposited more into your inventory than you can carry. Your movement will be restricted due to excess weight. Increase your maximum carry weight by increasing your endurance and strength stats.

Special note: Items looted from the dungeon will count as less weight.

Reward: Basic information about overloading.

“Ah…” Zack said. “That makes sense.”

So he could carry a large amount of small items without having to worry too much, but not large pieces of furniture without getting weighed down. Fair. Plus there was that additional note about dungeon items getting preferential treatment, which to him read like one of those plot-convenience triggers in a video game, where a player might get healed to full after reaching a cutscene or something else that did not align with the rules of the game.

Usually, plot-convenience devices in games existed to encourage advancing the story. In this case, advancing the story could very well mean getting coaxed back into the murder dungeon with promises of an all-you-can-loot buffet. Sounded like something Oni would offer.

Zack took out the L-shaped sofa from his inventory, the sofa retaking its original spot by the floor to ceiling windows, feeling slightly dejected from a child-like perspective that his magical inventory space didn’t allow him to swallow up anything it could, while feeling relieved from a logical perspective about the same.

He had his usual modest breakfast, two hard boiled eggs with a bowl of cold oatmeal, the same thing he’d eaten for most of his life. For some reason his head hurt a bit, his sleep disturbed by vivid nightmares that didn’t make all that much sense. Besides the addition of monsters and other dungeon paraphernalia into his usual nightmares, he recalled a floating book that he couldn’t quite make out.

Just thinking of that particular image of the book made his headache more severe. Zack decided not to think about it for now, and to focus on his next objective.

Time to meet up with his old buddy Hugo Bones and return to his real roots as a dumpster diver.

—

The Lion of the North sat on his colossal throne seat, his massive paws resting upon the stone armrests. The breadth of his chest and shoulders was that of five human men combined.

Three women fanned him with large palm leaves, their fingers grooming his mane. The women looked similar to lionesses, but they stood upright like humanoids and wore gold wreaths around their necks, and each carried a different color of flowers.

Several concubines of various shapes and beastial forms that met his preferences sidled up to the Lion of the North. One sat on his lap, curled obediently. Another sat in the crevice to the left of his leg, while a third and fourth hugged his neck from behind.

A few of the concubines were collared and scarred, the sign of low class slaves, while the other concubines and servants were not bound in any manner, many of them the wives and daughters of beastial nobility. All looked at their master with interest, some with fear, while others with fervent adoration.

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The Lion of the North's assistant, a large black bear with glowing red eyes, padded towards his king.

“Sire,” the bear said. The bear spoke politely with a hint of fear in his voice. That was to be expected, because the entity that he spoke to was the Ruler of the Beastial Realm. Beastial denizens inhabited many of the realms, but here was where the population truly reflected an overwhelming majority, whereas they would be the minority in the Sky Realm or the Spiritual Realm. Here, beastial denizens thrived. In the Beastial Realm, beasts were refined and haughty just as much as they were feral and savage.

“What is it?” the Lion asked, his voice thundering down. The concubines paused their adoration for a moment, only to resume pleasing him after they sensed there was no further danger.

“The human that you’ve shown interest in to be your apostle has arrived in Budapesht, Yundin-Hungary. That is–ahem–the name of what the humans call a city and country in the world serving the 174th cycle.”

“Excellent,” the Lion replied. “How is his physical and mental condition?”

“He is doing well,” the black bear responded. “Strong, and of good stock. But there is a problem–it seems that he is a fugitive criminal, on the run from the police. He is wanted for killing several other humans.”

Upon hearing that, the Lion bursted out into a strong laugh, making his concubines recoil. “He is running for such a trivial reason? Vanquishing those weaker than him is his right!”

The black bear cleared his throat. “After studying the customs of the 174th cycle humans, I’ve learned that it is frowned upon for humans of their world to kill another of their kind, although it is permissible in their customs to kill animals. That is why the police in their world are chasing him.”

The Lion thumped his chest. “Is it not the right of the strong to trample the weak? These weak humans… they should be thankful for the mercy of my apostle. I will raise him slowly, and make sure none of his kin can ever chain him down against the natural order of things.”

The powerful Ruler of the Beastial Realm continued. “And what of the other news?”

“The Order of the Celestial Monks, the only ones with direct access to the Initiation Rituals, just concluded their investigation. It appears that at least one initiate managed to enter the dungeon early, although the identities of anyone that entered is unclear even to the Order. We do not know who the progenitor is.”

“Those mongrel cultists don’t know anything like usual,” the Lion grumbled, displeased but not surprised. “Very well. It’s a shame that my apostle is not able to take the title of progenitor, but that is fine. Plenty of ascended were not progenitors, myself included,” he growled. “I killed my cycle’s progenitor. Tore him to pieces with my own hands, and ate his heart and liver. So sweet was his blood.”

The giant maned ruler licked his lips, saliva dripping from his powerful carnassial teeth.

“If you find out who the progenitor of the 174th is, have him arrange to be killed. Or better yet, weakened so my apostle can feast upon him and grow strong.”

“Yes, my liege.”

The black bear bowed respectfully, then ducked away down the ferned path. Red pillars lined the path paved with the skeletal bones of countless creatures, all packed into the dirt. An elephant’s tusks could be seen next to an ogre’s large shin bones.

––

Zack wore a loose fitting light gray shirt and dark pants, a trendy two tone cap on his head to shield him from the heat that would arrive later in the day. It was early summer, and he hadn’t gone to a mall in a long time. A lot of young people were walking by, enjoying a summer shopping trip. Zack felt a bit buzzed himself, absorbing excitement from the atmosphere. The weather had cleared up a bit from the morning’s dreary overcast as well.

It didn’t take long for Hugo to arrive. The same Hugo who was always late to everything unless he decided that particular attendance was of high importance to him. Hell, he even showed up just an hour before their highschool graduation. The only things he actually took seriously were his work and his various girlfriends.

But Zack knew that Hugo wouldn’t be late for this, not for anything in the world. He grinned, finding it amusing how Hugo could be so reliably unreliable for any situation except an apocalyptic one where his old buddy needed help, where his general schmooziness would transform into ironclad reliability.

“What’s the stupid look you got on your face?” Hugo asked, before cracking a smile and bumping shoulders with Zack. He wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to display his tattoos, and his pants and belt looked like they had been thrifted, albeit fashionably so.

Zack was amazed how Hugo could be short on money so often, and yet always clean himself up enough to chat up girls.

“Just surprised you showed up, that’s all,” Zack replied with a laugh.

“What, you think I was just gonna ignore your world’s-gonna-end speech from last night and the fact that my childhood buddy just grew magical powers? You’re out of your mind,” Hugo said.

Hugo continued. “You know, if anyone else gave me that speech, excluding the whole vanishing trick or speed healing thing, I’d think you were on those new baby shrooms that’ve been floating around these days that make your brain go all whirly, but you’re way too straight-edge for that.”

“I’m completely sober.”

“Oh I know,” Hugo chuckled. “But you weren’t always like that, right? The ‘ol Zacky I knew used to break windows and drink beer when he was nine years old. Feral one, he was. Where’d you reckon he went? Is he still somewhere in there?” Hugo asked, giving a friendly pat on Zack’s shoulder.

“That was before the money issues,” Zack shrugged. “Although I guess I can loosen up a bit now, with the end of the world approaching and all.”

Hugo grinned, and Zack could tell he was beaming from the soul. “Atta boy. Now let’s stock up a bit.”

They had a good time chatting while walking down the street towards the mall complex, and Zack felt a bit guilty that he’d been hanging out with Hugo less often these days.

He had a lot on his mind as he walked past the busy dual crosswalk, and did not consciously notice the extreme sense of deja vu he felt walking past that intersection.

If he’d paid closer attention, he would’ve realized that that was the exact same intersection that he’d died on during his first flashback in the dungeon, teeth sinking into him as the sound of gunfire accompanied.

Just across the street from the animatedly chatting Zack and Hugo, a pale police officer wearing white gloves looked down at his watch, a pistol slung on his waist. His name was Gerald Manson, and in his back pocket was an envelope full of cash, handed to him last night as a bribe to look the other way after a councilman groped a drunk young woman on the street.

To put it simply, Gerald Manson was a dirty cop that worked night shift on this intersection, with a whole lot of ambition directed at a whole lot of wrong places.