[For being the first adventurer to discover this dungeon, you have been awarded the perk: Mana Growth

You have done nothing but transfer mana for three days, flexing that ability like a muscle. Your mana pool now has a 50% increased capacity.]

Tapper checked his character sheet and idly noted that his MP did indeed now read 9/9, it was nice that this perk had a measurable impact unlike the other perk he had received.

Through the wall was a waiting area, a large open room that had the remnants of benches, security checkpoints, and sanitizing equipment that hung from the high ceiling. Almost all of it was pushed aside or around to create more barricades, except for the security gateways that still glowed with power. If the turrets didn't see him as a threat then Tapper felt confident in approaching the security checkpoints, which he almost reached by the time something beyond them moved. The wall behind the checkpoints was reinforced with sharp, rusted scrap metal and the middle section suddenly started to slide open.

Tapper just barely managed to dive and roll in time, flopping behind one of the barricades with a clang before the newcomers had noticed him. Two people talked and walked, one was a tall human man covered head to toe in small metal spikes implanted across his leather clothes and the skin of his face, and the other was a much shorter rodent hybrid woman with a huge swoop of stylized hair. They were complaining to each other, and carried the open air of employees that felt completely invisible to their boss. Both had leather jackets decorated with scraps of shining metal and worn over layers of dingy but brightly colored clothes, not fit for manual work. "I can't believe those damn ratbirds triggered all the traps again. How long is it going to take to reset them all this time?" The shorter one asked with an exaggerated annoyance to her voice.

"You're just sad cuz those're all your brothers and sisters out there," the taller man answered. He flashed a cheeky smile, which really did flash when the light caught on sharp metal teeth.

The rodent hybrid chittered through a gap in her elongated front teeth in annoyance and shot back, "Shut up, you know I favor gophers. Ass." Then she flicked the plastic box she had been smoking through the glowing security gateway, where it flashed and instantly evaporated into dust.

This earned an annoyed grunt in return from the other man and he said, "Damnit, I told you to stop draining the energy like that." The spiky man pulled out a floating holographic display from his wrist, tampering with an option and powering down the arches. He was still complaining about the boss noticing the energy drain when the shorter one stepped through, and the instant she crossed the threshold the turrets outside opened fire.

The mad scramble of noise and light stopped a few seconds later, the tall man panting with his hand pushed partially through the digital controls. The holographic display glitched and flickered around his hand, but 'OFFLINE' read clearly from the top. The other person had taken a dive, mercifully away from Tapper, and scrambled behind a barricade, but was still left clutching a bloody thigh and swearing up a storm in response. "I thought you fixed those damn turrets, dickhead!"

"I DID fix them! You must've knocked the bolts off last time we were doing a sweep!" The human's voice softened slightly when the other tried to stand and winced. "How bad is it?"

The gopher woman snatched a bandanna off her partner's arm without protest and used it to tie a tourniquet before answering, "Meh, I've been shot worse. I'll head to the salon and get it patched up. And you'll pay for it."

"I still can't believe you use that shit. I'm telling you, it ain't normal." The spiky man shook his head, more in exasperation than annoyance.

"I can't believe you don't, you look damn weird being the only guy still getting manual surgeries and eating fried ratbirds... Speaking of, have fun shoveling all those corpses. Use the dweeb if you want help, I'm heading to the salon."

Taking an exaggerated moment to wipe her hands of the situation, the hybrid turned and started to limp back the way they came. "Yeah well, you're just skipping out because some of your bastard kids are out in that pile!" The woman answered with a middle finger raised high above her head, but there wasn't any malice to it and the taller man chuckled. Now left to himself, the human took one long look at the carnage outside, hands on his hips in thought before mumbling something and turning around to follow his partner back inside.

He thankfully didn't reactivate the security gateway, either from haste or a sense of security, though Tapper still waited for a few minutes just in case either person decided to come back. Once it felt safe he slowly made his way forward, tossing a small piece of rubble as quietly as he could manage through the archway. The loud clatter of debris landing sent Tapper back into cover, but afterwards he was finally through the arch and the reinforced metal door slid open when he approached. This close to the wall he could also see posters underneath the scrap metal with warning symbols and exclamation marks and one mention of security, but otherwise the portions he could see were faded past the point of legibility.

Any musings on the whats and whys instantly died when Tapper stepped through the threshold and a green wall descended from all directions, coating everything in ropes of small green leaves and accompanied by an equally overwhelming sound. Hoots and squawks echoed off every surface, the material swaying in the wind with an organic undulation that made the robot recoil in discomfort.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

A viridian rope wrapped around Tapper's neck and he went into a panic, struggling to get the material off before the feel of it finally registered. The spade-shaped leaves didn't have the scratchy quality of the cat's tongue nettle, they were just sheets of plastic covered in a shining synthetic wax. Much more sensible, and Tapper didn't have any trouble pulling it off the second try.

Giving the surroundings a more calm examination showed that he wasn't completely surrounded by greenery, the ropes hung from rough brown columns that Tapper recognized from the nature documentary as trees. Most of them were massive trunks so tall that their thick canopy of leaves created the room's ceiling, nothing seen beyond it aside from the occasional slice of light. A tentative touch on the nearest trunk reassured that these plants were also synthetic and Tapper relaxed, after convincing himself that any microscopic germs he would find on a closer inspection were probably also fake. Even the horrible screeching sound was just playing on a loop. This was clearly a facade that the residents built because they, for whatever strange reason, wanted to replicate the wilderness.

Any complimentary thoughts Tapper had on their ingenuity were replaced with annoyance as he picked and tore his way through the fake foliage. There was a lot of it, constantly blocking his way as Tapper tried to follow an uneven path beaten into the ground. Nothing was angular and everything was lumpy, half-buried roots and rocks tripping him up whenever Tapper started to think he had found his footing. One such tumble sent him through a bush, crashing to his knees in a small clearing under a large tree's roots that contained something small and orange and growling.

It was an animal, that much was certain, and not quite the same as the griffin creatures he encountered in the parking garage. This one had more angular features to its head and ears, a fluffy tail, and orange fur that darkened to brown at the ends of its paws and ears. Except for a puff of wooly white fur that didn't match the rest of the body sticking awkwardly out of one side, right above a hind leg held at an awkward angle to not touch the ground. But most of Tapper's attention was drawn to the fangs it bore, much sharper with points that gleamed in the dim light as the animal tried in vain to back up further against the wall of the burrow.

Tapper raised both hands in what his bartender programming said was the first step in placating angry patrons before saying, "Hey there, uh, little guy. I'll leave and we'll be happy as a lorry, okay?" Tapper tried to gracefully exit the same way he entered, failed at the graceful aspect, and when his arms started to windmill for balance the animal responded with a staggering lunge.

Awkwardly crouched at the clearing line and arms flailing out of time was not the best way to start combat, and when the creature tackled him its force knocked Tapper onto his haunches. A snarling mouth clamped onto one forearm as all four legs scraped and scratched at his torso, not enough to puncture the robot's metal chassis but still enough to hurt and give Tapper a good panic. He tried to blindly push the animal away with his free hand, the sharp teeth gnawing away inches from his face preventing any real planning or tact, but he felt something soft and fluffy and he pushed until the teeth released.

There was a sound that started as a yelp and ended with a tear, his vision clearing just in time to see the creature slide off his fist with a dry thump. It fell into almost two separate pieces yet no blood spilled, instead strings of synthetic off-white fibers tumbled out of the wound and exposed a slim metal framework of a skeleton. The thing twitched once, and then fell limp without making another sound.

[Zombidermy Fox lvl 1 defeated! +1 XP]

Tapper took a moment in the silence to calm himself, making sure that everything still functioned. One arm was still covered in strands of the fibrous material, the other arm peppered in small holes. The zombidermy thing was synthetic but still alive, or at least more alive than the mining robot had been — it was injured and hiding, and upon Tapper's intrusion it lashed out in self-defense. And the bartender killed it, all by himself.

The last thing Tapper wanted to do was harm other synthetic life, but any guilt he felt was balanced by the fox being dangerous enough to bring Tapper down 2 HP in that brief struggle. That much, thankfully, recovered by the time Tapper had calmed down and was ready to crawl out of the burrow-turned-tomb. Must remain calm through logic, slow and steady and ever forward until he could return home.

The robot's calm broke approximately 10 meters out of the den, when he rounded a corner and saw a fish flapping and writhing against the polished piece of wood that it was nailed to. It hung from a stout cobblestone column like a sick warning, marking the entrance to a branching path that led to a log cabin and the shore of a lake. Tapper couldn't see the other side of the lake, but he did see smoke pouring out of the cabin's chimney as an open declaration that someone was home. Tapper had doubts that whoever could so cruelly display a living zombidermy could be trusted, synthetic or not, and he seriously considered taking the fish down to end its suffering.

The sympathetic synthetic edged nearer and reached out, flinching back when it gave a particularly frantic attempt to leap off the wooden plaque. That jostled loose a carved wooden walking stick from its resting place against the column and it tipped over, falling onto a ring of metal triangles embedded in the ground through the middle of the branching path. What he had thought was just decoration snapped shut on a hidden hinge, all the triangles coming together like giant metal teeth that instantly crunched the walking stick to splinters. That was all the convincing Tapper needed and he hurried away from the cabin without a second thought.

A while later walking the forest path grew calm, despite the initial shock, and began to edge towards boring. His internal compass wasn't working this far underground and the trees were so thick that Tapper couldn’t see more than a dozen yards in any direction, leaving him to just wander as his eyes adjusted to the barrage of green hues. Even the ferocious animal noises faded into white noise, and Tapper found his mind starting to likewise wander into unprompted and irrelevant inquiries.

Who designed this place? Why create synthetic animals and then injure them? Was his RAM leaking, and would that lead to a cascading failure of his core programming?

All intrusive thoughts vanished when a roar cut through the idle white noise, panic sharpening Tapper's focus towards movement just on the edge of his vision. He was passing underneath a particularly large tree, with branches thick enough to hold a massive feline with black and orange stripes. Glassy yellow eyes stared down at him and fangs as long as his fingers flashed as it let out another overwhelming roar, sending Tapper into a panic deeper than he had ever experienced before.