“Holy shit, that was awesome.”

I look up through the me-sized hole I find myself stuck in and see Ursula looking down at me, both of her hands clinging to a rifle for dear life. She peels her right hand away to reveal shaking fingers and reaches it down to me.

“It was a complete accident.” I say as I take her hand. She yanks me up in one swift motion, and I step back on thin air to safety. “Thanks. What the hell happened to you? Is there another falling speed I’m not aware of?”

“Oh, yeah.” Ursula chuckles shakily. “Way, way faster. I didn’t even have time to scream–I was falling one second, and the next I’m on the ground with a bunch of salted cuts and a very angry… whatever this is staring at me.”

‘Really angry’ might be an understatement if it’s anything like the vendigators. I force myself to the ground and walk with Ursula around to its head–or the thing that’s supposed to be the head. Half of it is broken off under the salt, and what’s left is rearranged and hanging loosely. This thing was definitely dead before the salt took it over.

“Does it look like anything you’ve ever seen?”

Ursula thinks for a second, then shakes her head. “Not exactly like this, no. I think it did something to burn the ground, but not in a ‘breathes fire’ kind of way. Architect, can you cross-reference this thing in the database?”

“I can’t see it, remember?”

“Right. I’ll upload a scan for you.”

While Ursula does that, I walk around the thing to get a better look at it. At first glance it’s about as long as a vendiator, but much wider and taller. The stuff under the salt is nearly destroyed; rusted, ripped apart, and pitted like something that’s been sitting there for years exposed to the harsh, unforgiving elements. If I look really hard I can imagine it being some kind of turtle, but the head doesn’t fit that. Probably some kind of plated mammal like an armadillo or a pangolin. Except upscaled at least ten times over.

But… I can’t tell at all what the apocalypse corrupted to make this thing. The vendigator was obvious enough after one good look. This one doesn’t have anything identifying at all. All I’ve got to go on are the scratches, the fact that it had grease inside, and some melted salt without any visible scorch marks.

I put my hand on the salt and hum in thought. “Could be an industrial stove. Or an incinerator… no, there’d be plenty of fire in that case. A heating system? Some kind of… drill un-freezer?”

“It’s a grill.” March cuts in to destroy any sense of mystique. “An armagrillo. One of my favorite names the system has come up with.”

Ursula raps her knuckles against the salt casing. “This thing’s an armagrillo? Aren’t they usually a shit ton smaller than this?”

“Yup.”

“Oh. Guess that clears things up.” Ursula chuckles and takes a step back. “I guess there is a massive surplus of magic here. We should be ready for anything else we come across to be just as big as this one.”

I nod and wipe my fingers on my shirt. Not that it does much.

“How big’s a normal one of these?”

Ursula holds her hands about four feet apart. “About that much for one normal sized flat-top. The biggest I’ve seen was from an industrial kitchen, and even that sucker was only about two-thirds as big as this… sucker.”

She twists her mouth in disappointment and clicks her tongue. “The salt must be getting to me. Architect, chart us a course to the closest exit. And I don’t really want to ask, but what’s the chance of us exploring all of this before the Preservation finds a way up?”

March snorts out a laugh.

“Heard loud and clear.” Ursula sighs. “Well, guess that means we’re going to have to come up with some kind of plan for when they dock.”

“Either we stay out of sight or we fight them. Doesn’t really seem like we’ve got many other choices.” I cross my arms and glance around as more strange sounds echo out. “We need to move. There’s no way nothing else heard that, and I’m not waiting around for a massive vendigator to burst through the ground and snap me up in one bite.”

“Take to the trees?”

I think for a second, then nod. “Sounds like the safest bet until Architect finds us the best path. Watch out for… monkeys and birds.”

“And snakes, and tree-dwelling rodents, and a bunch of other stuff.” Ursula adds helpfully. “Hey, if everything’s giant here, then nothing’ll be able to sneak up on us. Not with how densely packed the trees are.”

She walks up to the tree we crashed through and pats it on the trunk. I shoot her a look of disbelief when it really seems like she’s going to choose that one to climb. With a glance back at me she purses her lips and walks away from this tree with a guilty whistle, moving a half-dozen over until she gets to one that hasn’t been damaged by us or the armagrillo. I roll my eyes and follow after her, pushing off into the air with every step I take until I reach the bottom of the canopy. Up close, it’s even more obvious how simple these trees are compared to everything else.

Ursula climbs up a moment later, grabs the lowest hanging branch, and pulls herself onto it. She leans back against the tree with her arms crossed, reaches for one of the simple flowers, and plucks it.

“What do you make of this, Gambler?”

“The flower?”

She nods. “It’s extremely simple where everything else we’ve seen has been extremely complex. The clover, the sunflowers, the flowers from the first room; they’re almost like detailed reproductions of real-like things. Or… caricatures, I guess, in the sunflowers’ case. But these? And the rest of the tree?”

“They’re way too simple.” I answer her question before she can pose it. Then I cross my arms and nod down at the trunk, which is pretty much just a perfect glass cylinder. “Have you ever seen a pre-alpha build of a game? Or an animated movie before they go in and touch everything up?”

Ursula frowns and shakes her head. “Only played or watched ‘em–had no interest in how they were made.”

“Well, that’s what this reminds me of. Basic shapes that give enough of an idea, but that still need to have detail put into them. Hell, even the ground is barebones. I mean, just look at it; if you didn’t know it was naturally formed, you’d think someone came through and smoothed everything out.”

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

“Except for the damage we did.” Ursula adds with a smarmy grin.

I roll my eyes with a sigh. “Yes, except for the damage we did. But that huge flower, and everything outside the treeline looked… not simple? What’s the word for that again?”

“Complex.” March says.

“Complex, thank you.” I nod at nothing, then grab a branch hanging above me. It feels… terrifyingly solid. Especially since I can easily wrap my hand around it. “Everything but right here is complex. Is there anything we can do with that fact? Does it even matter at all?”

Ursula shrugs and unwraps an energy bar. “Hell if I know. This could be the origin point of all the salt, or it could be the latest development and that’s why it’s so simple. Or it could’ve taken on some aspect from the rig. Unless we find something to talk to or the system decides to let us identify plain ground, we won’t be finding out any time soon. How’s it coming, Architect?”

“Give me fifteen seconds.” March says, then proceeds to hum loudly enough that nobody else can say anything for exactly fifteen seconds straight. “All done. There’s an exit under the waterfall, one beneath the ground, and another halfway up a wall. The wall one’s the closest and has the least danger between you and it.”

“Perfect, thank you very much.” Ursula says without moving from her spot. She summons another energy bar and tosses it to me. “We’ll get right on that after a snack break. All this jumping and falling is murder on my energy levels.”

One very salty meal later, Ursula and I make our way through the canopy to the treetops. The sounds of salt-coated monsters grows louder by the second, but I can’t tell if that’s because of us or just because they’re having some territory dispute. I choose to think it’s a territory dispute because the other option has some dangerous ramifications. Real dangerous ramifications.

“Weird that there’s no flying things.” I point out as we start walking. “Or does something have to be able to fly when it’s a machine for it to fly when the apocalypse takes it?”

“Mmm… no, I don’t think so.” Ursula says. “But flying takes way more energy than it’s worth. If the apocalypse has to force wings onto something that didn’t already fly, it has to forsake a bunch of other stuff. ‘Course that might not matter with all this magic in the air.”

“So don’t expect it, but also don’t completely write it off. Especially since everything should be able to jump and air-walk just like we can.” I purse my lips and glance down at the ground. A pair of huge animals–almost like elephants–saunter over a stretch of open ground. They flicker once, the air shifting around them in an icy mist, and then they disappear. “Alright, we need to move way faster. If we draw any real attention we’re screwed.”

Ursula nods in agreement and breaks into a sprint. I… guess that’s what I asked for, so I can’t complain. Even when every breath draws in a large fries worth of salt and sends it straight down to my lungs. The moisture in my mouth doesn’t diminish at all, even with all the salt. Maybe that’s one of the reasons it’s there. Or maybe it’s just a lucky byproduct.

More apocalypse-touched monsters pass by underneath us. Snakes, frogs, a single huge boar, and a pack of fox-like things with huge ears and multiple tails that look like fan blades. I can’t make out what anything but the foxes are mixed with, which is more than a little worrying. Not that the vendigator had multiple vending-machine related powers I could use that knowledge to avoid.

“Fox-fans. Industrial sized.” Ursula notes, and I realize I must’ve been pretty obvious in my staring. “Usually not the most dangerous things, but from how sharp those blades look, I’d bet they’re not like the house fans we’re used to dealing with.”

“Definitely not.”

From the slight quirk in Ursula’s eyebrow, that apparently wasn’t the answer she was looking for. I consider trying again, but a loud splash and a monstrously huge pillar of oily grease yanks my thoughts away and scraps any previous conversation clean. We share a worried look and hurry the hell up.

“The hell was that?” I ask above a growing din that threatens to consume this entire place. It’s like a tornado siren muted by a thin layer of water twisted into some unfathomable melody.

“No freaking idea.” Ursula says quickly. “Whatever it is, we’re not gonna be here when it runs rampant through this place. Architect, how’s the size of its dot compared to the others?”

“I can’t tell yet. The grease is making it hard to see.” March murmurs. “Be careful please.”

Ursula curses under her breath and puts a hand on one of her guns. “Run, Gambler. Don’t look back.”

The noise hits a crescendo that slashes directly into my mind and prods at everything that makes me shiver. Fear. Cold. Anticipation. Even pleasure–everything muddled into one long, wracking shake that leaves traces of vibrations ringing in my bones. I blink away the freakish mixture of sensations rolled into one and grit my teeth. The sound’s still there in the background; it’s on a downswing, sure, but that just means there’ll be another crescendo soon.

“Whatever it is, it’s powerful.” I say through chattering teeth and a jaw that wants to stay clenched. “Can you identify it?”

“Trying that now.” Ursula grinds out through clenched teeth. “Not working. Stupid system restriction bullshit.”

A very stupid thought enters my mind. I glance back at the now still waterfall, where something blurry and small seems to stand at the base. Identify fails the moment I bring it up. But I’ve got a skill that should be able to overwrite it. Only problem is that I never figured out how to cool it down. And a quick look into my Class Card shows that it hasn’t magically happened since I last used it.

“Nothing we can do about it now. But we might have to regroup way sooner than we thought.”

My awareness latches onto something above me. I snap to the right and barely sidestep a massive salt pillar plummeting from on high, then grab Ursula to keep her from walking directly into the path of another.

“What’re you…” She starts, then freezes when the pillar nearly brushes her arm. “Nevermind, thank you very much.”

I nod and point upwards. “More coming. Not sure how, since there weren’t any pillars hanging from the ceiling, but–”

A spike of molten pain stabs into my skull. My vision goes dark for a second, flashes back to molten brightness, and goes dark once more. I nearly crumple into a ball from the pulsing agony behind my eyes, but closing them does nothing to dull the pain. Another pillar falls into my awareness, followed by another, and another, and another–each carrying a little more magic than the one before it. I wrench my eyes open as Ursula grabs my and pulls me out of the way.

“Can’t move.” I mumble through the pain. “Brain hurts.”

Ursula hisses through her teeth and starts awkwardly running. More throbs of intense pain dig deep into my brain, each accompanying one of the pillars slamming into the ground below. Shrieks of panic rise up from the different salt-crusted apocalyptic monsters. They bounce around in my skull like cannonballs, plowing through logical thought and leaving nothing but molten darkness.

An edge of utter cold wraps around the pain. My awareness flares like a miniature sun, and Pearl flails wildly to try and get my attention. I nod as best as I can to try and show that I can see her. She just flails harder and harder, waving her hands in a near perfect circle that starts to glow… black. And clear. And… molten?

A soundless voice crashes into me. It sings with the death throes of the monsters below. It revels in the crunching of metal and extinguishing of tiny lights. No intelligence lies behind the quiet sadism, and the creaking of something born of the deepest depths of magic slowly begins to truly stir. To begin opening its eyes to a world that it wants to kill–and that wants to kill it.

The krarig’s voice flows through me. And over me. Like a river running over one of so many pebbles lodged in its basin. Pearl brings her hands together and violently shakes her head as my nearly limp body flails over Ursula’s shoulder. Then… Pearl separates her hands and nods just as vigorously. She’s trying to tell me something.

Not together… but separate? What does that mean?

Molten salt seeps in around me. My pupils dilate as sensations wrap around me like cool sheets on a warm summer night. Comfort and pain war for purchase, yet somehow, they settle in like there’s space for the both of them. A single droplet of salt begins to fall from the edges of my vision, stealing salt from the border until none remains except for the drop and the tiny string connecting it to my… whatever this is.

It begins to glow even brighter. Like an elemental core connected to my mind through the thinnest of threads while the krarig pounds down on me with the violent uncaring of something so large it can’t even sense me.

…Can’t sense me. But… something was watching us all this time. If it wasn’t the krarig…

What the hell else is here?