image [https://i.imgur.com/LZ6b84S.jpg]

Fabulosa and I stood still and listened to the crypt. We heard more faint rustling.

Charitybelle recovered her footing and wrinkled her nose in annoyance at a small hollow she stumbled into. “Why would anyone build a room with a wavy, bumpy floor?”

“According to my stone visions, the worm lair lived underwater long ago. When I used Mineral Communion on the cylinders, they showed a weird lobster swimming through it. They’re the ones who installed the cylinders.”

“It’s a shame you can’t use Mineral Communion now.”

“I don’t think it would do any good. This white stuff isn’t mineral. It’s organic, like a pearl. The only visions I received in the ward worm lair came from the gold and silver cylinders.”

Fabulosa finished my thought. “…which this room doesn’t have.”

We heard more movement inside the box.

We braced ourselves for an attack that never came and relaxed.

Fabulosa pointed to one end of the container. Squiggles covered one surface of the resin. “Can you read this?”

“No. It’s like none of the languages I’ve seen in Miros. It might be an epitaph.”

Charitybelle cast Detect Magic. “They’re not magical either.”

Charitybelle nodded. “First, we need to figure out how to get by that magic aura. How did the gnoll die again?”

I described what I’d seen in the stone vision. “When the gnoll touched the aura, it died of old age.”

After inspecting the sides of the podium-shaped projection, I spotted a hole the size of the metallic cylinders we pulled from the worm’s lair.

I removed one cylinder from my inventory and held it to the hole. It didn’t fit. The hollow wasn’t perfectly round, nor the cylinder, but the shapes didn’t match.

I sighed, settled down, and tried matching hundreds of cylinders in my inventory—one at a time. If we traded away the one we needed at Rowan’s magic shop, we’d be sunk—but they only amounted to the small portion of cylinders I carried. Some candidates fit into the hole but rattled and made imperfect fittings.

Since I stored the cylinders in the void bag, Charitybelle and Fabulosa could do nothing but watch and soon grew bored.

After an hour of trying hundreds of cylinders, I found a silver one that matched the hole.

“Hey guys, I found one that fits. You think I should try it?” We all exchanged looks as they grabbed their weapons and stood up. No one opposed the idea.

I felt a slight resistance as I slid the oval solid into place. It reminded me of board game boxes that opened and closed with a hiss of air.

The glowing magical field disappeared without a sound when I inserted the cylinder. I prepared Magnetize to pull it out if Dracula suddenly sprang from the coffin.

“I turned the magical field off. The good news is, I think these little cylinders have some use. Either they’re components of another magic system or magic keys. The bad news is, I don’t think we should spend them in case we need them for something.”

Fabulosa shook her head. “That is bad news for anyone who wants to spend gold cylinders on anything other than cute outfits!”

Charitybelle and Fabulosa shared a giggle.

I rolled my eyes. “Come on, you guys, let’s see what’s inside this thing.”

Fabulosa moved next to the giant coffin. “Yeah, let’s release whatever vampire has been resting here for the past 100 million years. It’s the only smart thing to do.”

Getting our fingers under the lid wasn’t easy. Once we did, our enhanced strength did the rest.

Charitybelle spoke as we felt the lid move. “At least you can put your new strength bracers to use. Let’s move it just a crack.”

Fabulosa’s eyes focused on the crack as she lifted. “I hope I’m at its feet.”

Charitybelle grunted at the opposite end of the lid. “Yeah, me too.”

We looked at one another to see if we wanted to see whatever lay inside. No one wanted to go back—we lifted the lid, turned it clockwise, and jumped back. Inside, something big shifted. At first, a putrid odor drove us away. Weapons ready, I crept close and peered into the box.

Fabulosa’s face contorted into a mask of fear as she tried to comprehend the creature inside.

I made a similar face and backed away again, coughing at the stench.

Name

Ascended Mummified Anomalocaris

Level

43

Difficulty

Dangerous (orange)

Health

4,500/4,500

A lobster creature I’d seen in the worm room months ago lay mummified before us. Unlike the afterimages of Mineral Communion, seeing this monster in real life gave me a sense of its size. The 10-foot-long crustacean sprouted rows of finlike paddles along its length instead of legs. Two armored tentacles coiled around the creature’s mouth. True to its name, deteriorated strips of material wrapped around its body.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The game ranked the monster’s difficulty as dangerous. It seemed suspiciously weak for a level 43 monster. Perhaps its inability to move reduced its threat level.

“Ascended? What’s that mean? You reckon that’s a lich of some kind?” Fabulosa looked at us with a sense of urgency. Her combat stance suggested a readiness to jump back at any sign of danger. Charitybelle’s posture looked similar.

Charitybelle turned to me. “Beats me—but this monster’s name is quite a mouthful. What’s an anomalocaris?”

It became my turn to shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if it’s undead.” The bindings covered half of its eyeless eye sockets. What flesh remained shriveled like the rest of its body. It didn’t look like this thing could even see. I probably wouldn’t have located its face had I not seen the lobster creatures in visions and lizardfolk murals.

I recalled the weird lobsters had bookish appendages that vibrated in the water. If the pages worked like gills, its mouth had dried and fractured into pieces. What remained twitched soundlessly in the open air—blind and mute. And a muted creature couldn’t cast spells.

While it appeared helpless, an unmistakable malevolence about the wretched thing made me grateful that it couldn’t see us. The air temperature dropped 50 degrees after we lifted the lid. Its chill touched me even under my mithril vest and robe, but no debuffs appeared.

Charitybelle frowned. “Animal Communion doesn’t work on it. It’s definitely a monster.”

“I don’t know what to say, guys. This thing is obviously evil, but I don’t think it’s wise to poke a level 43 monster with a stick.”

Fabulosa shook her head. “That’s an awful lot of experience points to pass up.”

Charitybelle couldn’t tear her eyes away from the mummy. “Should I try healing it? If it’s undead, light magic will cause damage—in which case. Let’s put it to rest.”

I shook my head. “I don’t have any other ideas. Fab?”

Fabulosa shrugged and urged Charitybelle to go for it. I imbued my spear in case things got ugly.

When Charitybelle cast Rejuvenate, the thing twitched and smoked as if splattered with acid, but its bindings held. It made huffing sounds, and the gills in its “ripped-up books” fluttered. The creature’s health dropped by 50. We waited, but its weak thrashing never turned dangerous. The cold around the mummy increased.

Fabulosa gave the command to fire. “Light it up.”

We didn’t feel heroic, but euthanizing it closed a book of an untold story—and it seemed to be the right thing to do.

Rejuvenate proved twice as efficient on mana as Restore, so we restricted our casting. Waiting for the spell’s cooldowns involved a test of willpower. Since we engaged in a state of combat for almost 20 minutes, our mana regeneration rate moved at a glacial pace. The mummy wriggled in torment throughout the encounter, unable to even lift its limbs. Killing it at such a slow rate seemed cruel. We exhausted our mana when it reached 30 percent of its health pool, so we downed mana potions for enough juice to finish the task.

When Rejuvenate’s ticks brought the anomalocaris to zero health, we braced ourselves for a death rattle—but nothing unusual happened.

From the gamer’s perspective, Fabulosa wasn’t wrong about the experience. Still, such an ugly kill felt anticlimactic and left a bad taste in my mouth.

Congratulations!

You are level 19

You have gained a level. You have increased your stamina by 1, intelligence by 1, and strength by 1. You have received 1 power point. You have 2,240/2,430 experience points toward level 20.

With the meager experience from the fungal crawler and sundew, the 97 points from the anomalocaris helped us level up. If rags hadn’t bound it in a cocoon, I’m confident we would have earned more experience—but I felt equally sure a monster of that level would have smeared us like a meat crayon.

None of us cheered or searched the body. We collapsed on the floor and performed Rest and Mend.

Fabulosa broke the silence. “I’ll admit, that kill felt like Cheesetown Central, but it makes up for the golem and chimera, and there’s a good chance it has some sweet loot.”

Charitybelle looked at me. “Do you think the monster had something the gnolls, orcs, and kobolds were after?”

“Judging by its rarity, yeah. It explains why the orcs paid off the kobolds. Maybe this critter was too hot to handle for the ratfolk, and the orcs thought they could put it to use. By the way, thanks for coming. That wasn’t exactly an epic battle, but at least I learned something about runes.”

Charitybelle looked warily at the sarcophagus. “This is a fun dungeon, and I’m glad the boss wasn’t dangerous. It’s better than the demon temple or the spider maze, that’s for sure. Getting shot up the tube was fun.”

Fabulosa furrowed her brow. “Do you reckon the lizard people worshiped or guarded the mummy?”

Charitybelle shrugged. “It could be both or neither.”

We scrutinized the crypt’s grisly contents. For the first time, the creature wasn’t magically glowing. The remains looked inert and silent.

I poked away the wrappings from a bulge in the mummy’s side. It looked like a crown or helmet with an opalescent sphere inset into its frame. It glowed when I cast Detect Magic.

Item

Cursed Band of Arcane Ascendence

Rarity

Purple (celestial)

Description

Level 120 head item

+24 intelligence

+8 stamina

+16 willpower

This relic contains the Artilith, a pearl binding its owner to a permanent mind-pact with Archdemon Danamoth the Timeless.

Item use—Grants levitation. The wearer may alter values in arcane spells by a factor of 10.

The three of us looked at one another as if we had stumbled upon a suitcase of drug money. This item felt like a gold nugget found on someone else’s land. What if grandkids discovered a winning lottery ticket in our grandfather’s ashtray—who would take it? It involved moral consideration. What kind of players were we?

I broke the long silence. “I think it’s important no one touches it.”

Charitybelle shook her head. “No. I don’t want it.”

Fabulosa pantomimed unchecked avarice and jokingly reached for it. She pulled her hand back and laughed at our reactions. “Come on now. I’m not crazy. Look at what it did to the last owner. Besides, flying isn’t my thing. If the relic affected primal spells—then maybe.”

We nervously laughed, easing some of the tension.

I exhaled. “Seriously, though, this item could mean winning the contest outright. The range for Detect Magic would be ten times greater. A tenfold Mana Shield would be pretty tough to beat.”

Fabulosa rolled her eyes. “Forget Mana Shield—you could cast Imbue Weapon for ten times extra damage.”

I chased down Fabulosa’s thought and wondered out loud. “And it could cost a tenth of the mana and take a tenth of the time to channel.” With every strike of my spear or arrow, I could hit opponents with Imbue Weapon for over 200 points of extra damage. Every combat scenario I ran in my head ended with a relic bearer winning.

Charitybelle shook me out of my daze. “Taking it means the other two of us will probably die. I can’t imagine anyone mind-melding with a demon lord would want companions—or competitors.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You could use me as a minion.”

“I’ve a mind to take it and do just that.”

Charitybelle elbowed Fabulosa. “Behave, you guys. This is too dangerous. There’s always free cheese in a mousetrap.”

Joking about such a temptation felt like playing with fire, so I stopped kidding around. What mental toll would the contest winner pay? What if the demon’s influence forced the relic’s owner to perform unspeakable acts? Was this a trap placed by Crimson Software to create reality show villains?

The girdle contained a pearl with a proper name, the Artilith, which seemed to be its source of power.

I raised my hands in surrender. “Okay, so it’s verboten. What do we do with it, then?” Therein lay the problem—if we wouldn’t take it, someone else might.

Charitybelle raised her finger in a Eureka gesture. “Oh! I know—you could take that cylinder out. Without it, the magical barrier could still zap or kill anyone touching it.”

That wasn’t a bad idea. What better way to deter grave robbers?

No other magic glow or wealth emanated from the casket besides the relic. A broken core from the anomalocaris rested beside it, but we left it alone. Broken cores held no value, and we weren’t sure if residual evil lay in its essence.

We shut the lid, and I used Magnetize to pull the silver cylinder out of its hollow.

I tossed a copper coin onto the coffin. After it landed on the lid, a green patina covered it. “Watch yourselves. The aging field is online again.”

Fabulosa twirled her new Returning Arrow in one hand and hugged me with her other. “Are you happy you finally discovered what the orcs, kobolds, and gnolls fought over?”

We solved the mystery, but my bags didn’t overflow with loot. But I knew when to call it quits and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”