The room with the video conference was very tan, I noted. Like sand. On the screen were six people. There were various others in the room outside of the small laptop. Looking around, I listened as the people on the screen spoke.

An elbow nudged into my side.

“Huh?” I glanced over. Lawrence was flushed, nodding toward the screen. I looked at the screen. It was silent, everyone staring at me.

Oh. Maybe I wasn’t listening too hard, oops.

“Sorry, what’d they say?” I asked Lawrence.

“You have been through and survived three of these things. We have lost thousands of men already because of your suggestion, are you absolutely certain that these alien things will release their monsters in three months?” One of the people on the screen said. I only looked at the screen after they finished speaking though, unable to see who it was that spoke.

… It didn’t sound like the president, so I had to guess it was one of those others with four stars on their shoulders.

They’ve lost thousands because of me?

“Um… As this is an alien invasion—as in we are being directly attacked—I would rather not chance it?” I said, shifting and tilting my head, “We can lose thousands or we can lose billions. I know I can’t stop every dungeon in America, let alone the world, but I really do think we need to fucking fight. I’m definitely going to continue diving, with or without the help of the military, and the citizens of the world will too. We can’t afford to lose even if I’m wrong about the three month thing. These dungeons aren’t here out of good will, they need to be taken care of!” I finished passionately.

The president shifted, everyone going quiet, “I think… Blood… is right. While I don’t know how I feel agreeing with an edgy hero-wannabe, I don’t think the aliens invading would put the “dungeons” there without reason. How do you think we can effectively combat the threat?”

“C—“ Someone else spoke above me, and I cut myself off. Oops. Was he not speaking to me?

“Sir, if I may, I would suggest we locate every one of these dungeons first. We’ll need to start up a draft and maybe even create a whole new branch to deal with these things, every able-bodied man and woman from ages eighteen to sixty needs to be called to arms to protect our country.”

Just our country? Not even Canada and Mexico, which would still fuck us if they didn’t deal with their dungeons? Damn.

The president glanced to the side suddenly, a person coming into view to whisper in his ear. Nodding, he looked back to the screen, “You know what I think? I think you’re right. In times of great war we need a good military leader to lead all branches. Congratulations, General, you’ve been promoted to a five-star general. I have to get going, I leave the rest in your hands. We’ll make it official later.”

The president’s screen vanished, and I felt as shell-shocked at the sudden response as some men looked. The old man in green got promoted? What the hell was a five-star general? Did he get another star added to his shoulders? Huh. Cool.

That bastard. He used my idea to get a promotion!

…

Damn. I could use a promotion. Looking down, I saw the bad condition my “hero” suit was in. I needed the money for my suits. Maybe if I asked really nicely and told him I was the one to destroy the dungeon in his building Davis would feel pity and sugar-daddy my violent endeavors?

“… Right. Blood,” The old man in green, the (un)Official Largest Dick of the conference after the president left said, gaining my attention.

“Huh? Ue?” I asked nonsensically, my visions of fifty more outfits being granted vanishing as I looked at the old man in green.

Just a wish upon the wind…

“Is the dungeon you just came from done with? When’s the soonest I can get you to a large dungeon in Chicago? My men can handle New York right now, we need you in the areas its hard for my men to get to.”

“No, but there’s a time-dilation. It’ll be done before the end of today if I’m there. I’ll not have any clothes by the end of it, though…” I replied, looking down at my outfit sadly, “One outfit every two rooms, I can’t afford that.”

The old man in green scoffed, “We’ll get you more if you’re that hung-up on looking like that.”

I looked down, “This is armor,” I complained, “I can’t afford military kevlar bullshit. If you want to give me good clothes I’ll take good clothes.”

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“Let us remain on topic, please,” An old man in a black military suit said, rubbing at his face tiredly.

I huffed, but remained quiet.

“Right. The New York branch will take care of the dungeons, then, including the one you left without completing. Blood will go with Connors and will meet with me in Chicago after this meeting,” The old man in green said.

“Yes, sir,” A dude in the room said. I glanced over, seeing a chubby guy with a silver rectangle as his insignia had been the one to reply. He was relatively young, had dark hair cut short, and sported a double-chin.

As someone in the military, how the hell had that happened? I stared at the man for a long moment, turning back to the screen.

Well, okay.

The rest of the meeting went very, very long. There was strategies for finding dungeons, mentions of how to go through and clear dungeons, the requirements for such a thing, and many, many more topics.

“Okay, come on,” Connors said after several hours. I was exhausted, yawning, when a person ran up.

“Blood! Emergency! Help, please,” Alec begged.

Without thinking I sprinted toward Alec, him turning and running too. I ignored Connors’ yelling as I sprinted into the dungeon. A fifteen minute sprint later I saw the issue.

“You idiots that’s the boss room!” I yelled as I sprinted toward the giant gargoyle.

This looked much less humanoid, the gargoyle looking insectoid. Entire swathes of boiling blood were around, the creature screaming. In its hand was a forging hammer, and I glanced around to see that it was the one creating those crystalline zombie things, as well as the smaller gargoyles.

Giant black ichorous liquid spilled, the entire room covered in steam. The moment I ran in, my helmet fogged up, and I slowed down.

“Watch out!” Someone yelled.

Before I could react, out of the fog a giant foot slammed out, and I found myself flying. I felt as I flew through the air, dizzy and in pain. I found myself landing on something, slamming against the wall and twirling against the ledge I’d hit.

The corner of something dug into me, and I slowly got up, dizzy and confused. Reaching up, my vision restored itself. I saw I was above everyone next to the giant gargoyle.

I stared at its eyes.

If I jumped…

I could totally land in its eyes.

They looked soft enough to catch my fall.

It was a good idea.

How would I get down from where I landed otherwise?

Yeah.

…

The gargoyle looked really creepy, thin sharp teeth escaping a not-humanoid-mouth, looking like tentacle-like feelers but sharp and shifting like a grinder.

The feeling of being weightless filled me before I could talk myself out of it or before the gargoyle can move. I landed on black pooling pits of lava, bat swinging down. Instantly it was punctured.

My vision was coated with black and I kept digging even as the sound of shrieking faded. I swam in black boiling liquid, unable to feel myself or my bat. It hurt.

It hurt a lot.

The giant creature fell, and I found myself falling out of its head. Someone was screaming. I looked down at myself, seeing melted skin and charred bone. Oh. Did my visor melt?

Dizzy and naked, I reached up. Pain still flowed through me, but it was a comfort, because I couldn’t feel my legs at all. I whimpered as I took the melted remnants of my helmet off.

Someone was there, trying to feed me something.

I took it, but I wasn’t able to taste it or feel my tongue. Or feel my chest. Looking down, I saw the twisted and charred remnants of my skin and chest, my heart not beating very well in my chest.

Blood poured from between my ribs, some of them burnt white and others still covered, looking like overcooked barbecue. My skin shifted and swung. I watched as my beating heart sped up. I watched as my skin slowly swung around, reaching up and connecting to itself.

My skin stitched and sewed itself together, burnt pieces falling off of me. My hands and bones shifted, twisting together with an odd clicking and the sound of meat ripping.

I stared, surprised, as the skin on my chest started ballooning up.

“Hhhh,” I managed, looking up, feeling the air on my esophagus. Everyone who was looking at me—only a few people out of the forty-something there—looked horrified. I gestured at myself.

“Oh—oh! Here,” The furious blond man that spoke ill of his lieutenant—was his name Jones?—said, taking off his jacket. Soon I had a jacket large enough to keep me decent.

I watched as my hand was stitched together, my legs gaining skin, muscle, and tendons. It… looked gross.

Nausea filled me, and I gagged and convulsed as my nose was healed and I could smell rotten eggs and charred meat. Knowing where the smell came from didn’t make it any better.

At least I smelled good, I supposed.

Ugh.

Ow.

This… hurts. A lot.

My arms collapsed under me, and I curled up on the floor. Everything was twirling and too bright, and I found myself being carried on a cot.

Lawrence—when had he got there?—was by my side.

“H-hey…” I said. Lawrence looked at me, “Is my helmet okay? Can you go to my place and get my clothes?”

Lawrence glanced around, “S-sure, what’s your address?”

“Uhhh… it’s… on my phone.”

Lawrence went out of my vision for a moment, coming back with both my helmet and my phone. Both were destroyed.

“Aw. Uhhh…” I gave my address. Then I cried out, covering my face, “Ow, fuck. What the fuck?”

“We’re outside now, Blood.”

“Ugh. Ow.”

A fat chubby man appeared in my vision, and I laughed, “Oh, hey, Connors. Give me, like… half an hour. Then we can go to Chicago.”

Oh! I remembered his name!

Nice.