Now that leveling was out of the way, time to look at the loot. Each Construction check was making a lot of steps each roll. The quality of construction was improved too. That made the assent even easier, which gave me more time to read prompts.

I opened up my inventory and checked what was new.

May as well start with the bodies.

Mother of Snow Lions Corpse -2 (Demigod Scale)

This is the body of a dungeon final boss. Two McGuffins have been removed from the body. Any further attempts to remove a McGuffin from the body will have a 50% chance of destroying the body.

Due to removal of McGuffins this body cannot be broken down.

Attempt to collect McGuffin? Yes/No

I selected no. Best not to screw with that.

I hadn’t collected Rebecca’s body. It felt wrong. Angelica did collect the gear, but we just left the body behind. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. The pragmatist in me admitted that Rebecca didn’t need any of it anymore. Another part of me… it seemed so pointless, but I felt like we should have buried her. Trouble is, funerals are for loved ones. I didn’t know her. Pretending to would have been disrespectful.

…because killing her was such an act of respect.

I tossed that on the pile of things to process later. My current strategy was to stall long enough that by the time I dealt with any of this shit I would have done all the heavy lifting subconsciously. Then it would just be a matter of unpacking the fact I was capable of murder.

…better check out Grond’s body.

Avatar of Grond (Aspect of the Snow Lion)

This is a Divine Scale Avatar. A divine Scale player can use this avatar to interact with the world. This aspect has been connected to the Mantle of the god of Beasts (Snow Lion) lesser.

Note: this Avatar already has the aspect of the Snow Lion embedded in it. Donning this Avatar will take up said Aspect.

Warning: Donning the Aspect of the Snow Lion will put you into conflict with Grond over the Domain of Beasts.

That sounded odd. So it is a car Divine Scale players can drive around. Could I drive this around? I didn’t see an option so probably not.

What was that whole mantle thing?

Mantle of the God of Beast (Snow Lion) Lesser

This is a fragment of the divinity of Grond. This object allows access to the Divine Scale. Beings at or below Divine Scale can don this mantle. This allow various options to open up.

Celeste Angel of Truth has absorbed the majority of this Mantles power. Should any further energy be removed from this Mantle the Aspect of the snow lion will return to the control of the System. That would have consequences.

Currently you do not meet the requirements to create a god with this item.

Note 1: Creating a god with this item will alter the avatar this item is attached to.

Note 2: Creating a god with this item will cause a clash with Grond God of Beasts

That read a lot like ‘don’t fuck with this, at least not right now’. I should probably ask Celeste about that. It sounds like I could use it more or take the power from it, but we were in a bit of mixed company. Brunhilda honestly seemed solid enough but she was working for Zach. wait… Was Angelica working for Zach?

Gonna need to clarify that point too. Did that matter? Zach and I may have backed away from idiot fighting. He was trying to keep people fed. I am going to have to figure out what is actually happening in this world.

What did I get from the Final Boss?

For striking the killing blow on the final boss of the dungeon you will receive an Upgrade. One item in your possession will be upgraded to your Scale, or one level higher if the selected item is already at your Scale.

…

Arbitration beginning in

5…

4…

Error arbitration is temporarily unavailable

Ticket submitted.

Okay that… was a prompt.

It had words in it and everything. It looks like “Empowered Critical” was still messing with things. I didn’t have a clock but it felt like we were close to the hour passed.

“What’s an Upgrade?” I asked out loud.

Everyone froze.

“Doug, use the Upgrade now!” Angelica almost shouted.

Before I could open my inventory…

Arbitration begins in

5…

4…

3…

2…

I found myself standing in the doorway of a nondescript conference room. The walls were mostly off-white painted brick. The carpet was cheap gray with the possibility of a pattern in it, but likely was just made of slightly different fibers. A large wood table was in the center of the room with faux leather chairs around it.

Wilson sat in one. He had a steel tray in front of him and was grinding a small pile of pills into powder with one of the tumblers sitting on the tray. He looked up at me and grinned almost manically. His eyes still had dark rings around them but they glinted with unrestrained joy.

“Doug! Kid!” he called, slamming the tumbler down, “Look at you pulling down actual numbers.”

“What’s the GRP?” I asked. I watched the Narrator closely as I stepped into the room and sat at a chair across from him.

Wilson paused for a moment and looked to his side, “Just over 6,000,” with that he pulled a rolled-up hundred dollar bill and then snorted some of the powder. He slammed his hand down on the table. “I am more impressed with how you have Brandon shitting his pants.” He said the next line in a mocking tone, “But what about Europe?” Wilson laughed, “And more importantly you got Grace reaming Lindsey right now.”

“Grace?” I asked committing the name to memory.

“Lindsey’s Boss.” WIlson explained before taking another snort. “She is a real piece of work. She is… well, guess you could say she is my nemesis. She is the champion for intervention in storytelling. Needless to say, I hate the bitch, and I don’t care what she thinks about me..”

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked. This candid nature was too cooperative. Another shoe had to drop at some point.

“Because when she is done asserting dominance on Lindsey she is going to try and come in here and do the same thing to you.” Wilson explained, wiping at his nose.

“And you are going to protect me?” It was a question but we both knew he didn’t give a shit about me.

“Of course, you're mine.” Wilson looked surprised I didn’t understand this.

We sat there just long enough for things to get awkward. Just to break the silence I asked, “What the hell is that?” I pointed at the drugs.

“Oh this is just…” he paused. “I guess there isn’t a good parallel to anything you would understand. It is basically solidified catharsis. I can’t even imagine what it would do to you.” He slid the tray over, a grin twisting his lips again.

I slid it back away, “No thanks.”

“That’s what I love about you, Kid.” Wilson said before taking another bump, “I can always trust you to be you. How’s the intern working out?”

“Denise is okay, I guess.” I answered not really thinking it through.

Suddenly Denise was sitting in the chair next to me. Wilson had a tablet in his hands, “Would you rate her performance as satisfactory or unsatisfactory?” he asked.

Denise looked terrified. She didn’t say anything, but she was staring at me wide-eyed.

Would my answer hurt her?

“What is this Wilson?” I asked.

“Satisfactory or Unsatisfactory?” the Narrator pressed. His grin widened.

“What happens when I answer?” I asked, stubbornly not answering.

Wilson flipped the tablet to show me the screen with his finger hovering over the Unsatisfactory button. His finger slowly drifted closer to the screen.

Denise started crying silently. She didn’t sob, but tears ran down her cheeks. She clasped her hands together to stop them from shaking.

Fuck it, “Satisfactory,” I answered. While I didn’t owe Denise jackshit, and frankly she wasn’t that helpful, I wasn’t going to participate in whatever the fuck this was, nor was I going to cause her to suffer just to spite Wilson.

He knew that though. Which is why his grin sharpened into that predatory leer, as he selected the Satisfactory button, “Good, glad to hear it.” He leaned back and turned to Denise, “What about you, Sport? Having fun yet?”

Denise nodded, not saying anything. She just sat there staring at the table.

I had to fight not to react. That question. Don’t give him the satisfaction. I put everything into keeping my face neutral and my breathing even. How did he know that sentence? Despite my best efforts I found the thumb of my left hand rubbing the tip of the pinky finger. It was a nervous tick. I did it basically every time I was truly stressed. It felt odd since the finger was whole. Before the system, I… the titan was missing the distal phalange, the bone at the end of the finger. Now instead of an atypical callus, I felt the nail.

I was not the Titan.

Wilson and I watched each other. His message was pretty obvious: ‘do what I want or I will hurt those around you.’ That was so petty.

He could see the moment I understood. He glanced at my left hand, before grinning. The real issue is how unnaturally still he was. The only movement was his ever widening smile.

Again, I clamped down hard to prevent myself from reacting. The instant you show them they can get to you, they come at you ten times harder.

“Now that we all finished learning some sort of valuable lesson, are we going to get to this loot issue?” I demanded. This was becoming a waste of time. Probably already was.

“You do not dictate terms,” A brusque feminine voice chastised.

In proud Narrator tradition she appeared behind me. It is the way of their people, obnoxious and off putting.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Grace!” Wilson cheered, before taking another bump of whatever drug he was doing. “It is unprofessional to be late.”

Grace’s perfectly symmetrical face gave us all a look of perfect disdain. She was blue-gray, with white hair, just like Wilson, Paul and Denise. Unlike any of the others she was completely cold and collected. No feelings, hardly any movement. Grace appeared to be a woman in her mid-forties. Her hair was held in a tight bun. Her eyes were yellow behind horn-rimmed spectacles. She wore a gray skirt suit that managed to walk the line between marmish and hot librarian. Her shoes were practical, and clacked as she walked. Neat trick that, what with the carpet.

“Wilson, still pretending to be a human lout, I see,” her eyes turned to me, then her head followed. “The new Titan Spawn, I expected someone… more.” She pulled out a chair at the head of the table. “Brandon will be joining momentarily.”

“What about dear sweet Lindsey?” WIlson inquired, faux concern laced in his voice.

“Lindsey is with Brandon,” Grace explained, completely unperturbed.

Wilson slid the tray over to my side of the table. It rattled loudly as it skid along the wood. He then stood and walked around the table. As he passed Grace, he patted her on the shoulder. He then sat next to me, “This is going to be fun.” He then poured me a glass of water.

A full minute passed. Then two more Narrators appeared.

“...it’s not a problem until Christmas,” the voice I assumed was Lindsey all but growled. “Calm the hell down.”

“I worry about the potential impact on Europe,” Brandon whined. “Things are at a very precarious state.”

May as well get it over with. I turned to inspect the new pains in my ass. Brandon was THE average dude. Nondescript and unimpressive. His hair was a mess, and his clothes had the rumpled look of someone who slept in them. The rings around his eyes implied he hadn’t slept at all. Lindsey looked like someone who was pushed into a bush. She had twigs in her red hair. Which while different didn’t have the air of menace most Narrators exuded. The nearly feral look of hate she was giving Brandon did up her intensity though.

“Sit,” Grace commanded.

She seemed basically robotic, but at the same time there was a weight to her presence and words. I knew she was powerful, likely in both the political and literal sense. Wilson may put on the show, but he kept an eye on her as she sat impassively at the table's head.

Both of them stopped their bickering and sat across from us.

Wilson tipped his head to either side. His neck popped audibly, “Brandon, all you have to do is walk away now, and I won’t hurt you… not too bad anyways.”

“Don’t listen to his bullshit,” Lindsey glowered at us.

“Uh…” Brandon managed looking back and forth between them.

“I believe Brandon is trying to say he is currently uncertain which of us he is more terrified of,” Wilson said. He tutted, “Indecision is a bad look, Brandon.”

“That is not why we are here,” Grace cut in.

“We have time,” Wilson assured her, “All my stories are basically telling themselves. I can play about for a couple of chapters easily.” He blinked at the others, “Are you all having trouble?”

“How are you not having trouble? Every story I have been running went nuts twice! I thought Nadia finally declared Jihad on us.” Lindsey demanded before adding. “That bitch is crazy.”

“First of all, I run the All-Death’s story. They are honestly quite easy to manage when you understand what matters,” Wilson explained in a tone that clearly implied that Lindsey was both stupid and weak.

“What are we doing here, Wilson?” I asked. I tried to be polite but my tolerance for these clowns was limited.

“I am playing with my food. Denise is watching a master work. You are looking pretty at my side. Brandon is floundering and about to lose control of England over family drama. Lindsey is trying to covertly dislodge the stick up her ass after a close call with a high scale Mob. Sadly, the Stick up Grace’s ass is permanently emplaced. Hence why she is trying to mug you.” Wilson explained.

“I’m being mugged?” I asked, genuinely confused. “Why?”

“Why indeed, Grace?” WIlson asked, nodding to her.

Grace eyed both Wilson and me for a few moments. If looks could kill -something I was uncertain they couldn’t- we may well be in trouble. …nope still alive, “The fact is while the system may be robust, certain actions can cause extreme variation in events and run the risk of derailing multiple story lines.”

Those were in fact words. The order they were in even implied meaning.

To hell with it. I turned to Wilson, “What does that mean in-”

“Non-boring talk?” WIlson cut in. “What Grace is beating around the bush about is that you are now a homeowner! Congratulations!”

“What?” I was not making the connection here.

Wilson grinned, “Not surprised. You didn’t dig through your inventory yet.” he tsked while shaking his head. “Bad habit, get the loot and scoot.” He paused and grinned to himself, “Loot’n’scoot.” he laughed. “Sounds funny”

“Let’s just take it from him,” Lindsey growled.

Wilson’s head snapped towards Lyndsey. His grin a rictus and his eyes dangerous, “Are you going to meddle with one of my stories Lindsey?” His voice had that emotionless, truly inhuman tone.

Lindsey leaned back in her chair, but after a moment she glared back and said “If I have to.”

There was a long beat where no one moved. Wilson slid back into his playful mannerism. “Funny as that bad idea is,” he said before taking another bump of the powder, “...if you try and manhandle my client…’ he sneezed spaying dust and slime on Lindsey and Brandon.

“You’ll what? Stop me?” The red-head narrator pressed.

“Nah, point and laugh as the Titan literally tears you a new asshole,” Wilson said. He took my water and drank it.

“You’re full of shit,” Lindsey scoffed.

“Do you really think that lesson he just handed out was only for fucknuts like Grond?” Wilson asked as he rubbed his nose.

Lindsey opened her mouth, presumably to talk more shit, but then paused. For reasons that only make sense to her she surveyed me. An almost Wilson-like look crept into her eyes. Upon getting nothing from me, she slowly closed her mouth.

I tried to open my inventory. It wasn’t working. Only one real option left. I turned to Denise, “What are we doing here?”

Denise was strangely calm in this scenario now that Wilson stopped threatening her directly. “They are trying to take away your upgrade because you could use it to upgrade the dungeon core you got off Grond.”

“Shut your painted hole you little bitch,” Lindsey hissed at Denise.

“Don’t,” I told Lindsey. I had a realization.

“Don’t what?” She demanded turning her gaze on me.

“Pretend that you have any teeth, you don’t have the authority to do anything to me. Wilson does. I get it you’re mad I beat your boy, Grond, but fake threats are just sad.” I may have laid that on a little thick. Also if I was wrong, I was about to be savaged but a small Narrator woman.

“You can’t talk that way to me,” Lindsey shrieked.

“And yet he did,” Wilson muttered, looking at me in wonder. “Perhaps the Kid here is some sort of living miracle.” he poked me, “or Lindsey is just not good at this.”

“I can make things very bad for you!” Lindsey threatened.

“No you can’t,” Wilson said. All playfulness had abandoned his tone. He was also back to his focused, predatory body language.

“I have access to the best assassin in North America!” Lindsey shouted. “Once Lagrang finishes with your pointless Granny Mabel plot, I can chuck him right at Doug.” she sneered at us.

“Nope,” Wilson sneered. “Yeah, Lagrang has Granny cornered, and she is going to die. Very Dramatic, but that is going to keep her grandkids Little Luna and Brave Bobby safe. They will keep going on their little adventure championing the power of friendship or whatever the fuck.”

“You think those two are going to be able to stop Lagrang?” Lindsey Scoffed. “He killed his own family for money. All of them were a higher level and scale than those stupid kids.”

Wilson sighed. He shook his head, “Somebody tell her.”

“Tell me what?” Lindsey Demanded.

“Uh, Granny Mabel has the Balance in All Things Trait. When she dies its influence shuts off. Lagrang cornered Granny Mabel in the depths of the Shattered Mountain… directly beneath the Great Vault.” Brandon said.

“So?!” Lindsey demanded.

Wilson sighed. Denise cringed. Brandon flinched. Grace’s eyes narrowed. I was oblivious to what any of that meant.

“All right, I'll be your Huckleberry. What does that all mean?” I asked. I was tired of this bullshit. These assholes were more interested in some minutiae of the system than the fact that some little old lady was being murdered by a psychopath.

“Denise, explain,” WIlson said, not taking his eyes off of Lindsey.

“Granny Mabel has a Demigod Scale Trait, Balance in All Things. The trait allows her presence to stabilize all things both from a metaphorical and literal level. Her being beneath the Great Vault is to prevent it from falling back into the Deep Dark. If she dies, it drops directly on top of Lagrang. When he kills Granny Mabel, he is also dying.” Denise said. She only had to check her phone a little bit.

“Well then, I will call him off-” Lindsey began.

“No,” Grace cut in. “Before this Arbitration began a large portion of the Audience saw Lagrang mark Granny Mabel for death and stab her in the heart. No Retcon is possible.”

“Which leads to the same issue with the Upgrade,” Wilson said, still watching Lindsey.

Lindsey looked like she just swallowed a spider. Anyone who has done this will know it. It is the look someone has when they wonder if the thing they just swallowed is going to bite them. It is not a great look.

Grace sighed. “The fact is the Audience saw Doug mention the upgrade and Angelica De Leon instruct him to use the Upgrade.”

“And that means this is happening!” Wilson cheered.

“I just want Europe to not explode,” Brandon said, putting his head on the table.

“We can’t have that stupid Upgrade completely unbalance the entirety of all Stories!” Lindsey shouted pointing at the table for some reason.

“Saying things louder means I will get my way!” Wilson bellowed back, slamming his hand on the table. He composed himself, “That is what you sound like.”

“Can someone tell me why this is a problem?” I pressed.

“Very well,” Grace said, watching me impassively. “The concern is that an upgrade will turn an item in your possession to Titanic Scale. Currently there are exactly nine items in all of this world at Titanic Scale. Of those nine items only six of them are in play. The remaining three have yet to be claimed and all require narrative consequences to be pulled into play. Having a tenth Titanic Scale Relic simply burst into existence would upset the Audience. It would cheapen the others. That is why normally all upgrades gifted to a Titan Spawn have been rerolled per the standard process.”

“Something I have actively opposed,” Wilson said.

“Your ‘let the dice roll as they may’ stance has been made clear,” Grace said. “As has the fact that none of the continuity experts or Main Showrunners have agreed to this idea.” she pressed a button on the intercom, “Vince, please begin the retcon.”

“Will do. Retcon in 5…4…3…2…” a voice responded.

Everyone was watching me. “What?” Holy shit I do ask a lot of questions.

“Oh look at that. Doug, didn’t completely alter reality with a power no one in existence possesses.” Wilson observed, eyeing Grace.

“This lack of disruption to the system does not mean that the newest Titan Spawn hasn’t developed an unforeseen ability. He possesses Mental Resistance at the lowest level observed on any of the Spawn. Continuing a trend of increased instability.”

“Incorrect, increased ineffectiveness of your tactics for control,” Wilson said. “As these hiccups have proven, my methods handle disruption fine.”

“I mean you can’t prove that,” Brandon said.

“The Steam Meister’s assassin is going to step on a landmine six miles from the Queen's Castle. And despite your finagling of the Countess’s forces, the Peace Ambassadors will meet at the summit. The talks aren’t going to go well because of what is about to happen at the Tower.” Wilson informed Brandon. He had that slow loss of personality as he spoke. “You would know all of this if you put the crutch of probability manipulation down. Your forced peace will fail, and the fighting will begin in the Spring.

I snapped my fingers, “Focus. This is about me getting a massive womping stick.”

“Nah, you are thinking all wrong,” Wilson said dismissively. “The real chaos would be if you picked the dungeon core. That would create the second Titanic Domain in existence. It would be hilarious. You could also select the Avatar. That would… I don’t know what that would do. A Titanic Avatar.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Lindsey shrieked.

“Spiting you,” Wilson said before turning back to me, “Normally I wouldn’t influence your choice like this, because it is more fun to be surprised. That said, don’t pick a weapon it will underutilize the power of a Titanic Scale relic. Armor could be similar. Tools are better, but the Avatar and Dungeon Core are the apex of fuckery.”

“I will not allow the upgrade to be used on either the Dungeon Core or the Avatar. Any attempt to do so will be met with extreme consequences,” Grace explained.

Wilson leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the table, “ Let’s just roll the dice and be done.”

“No, Mr. Smith was clear that the Upgrade was not to be used unaltered by Doug,” Grace declared.

Denise leaned past me to look at Grace, “Seriously?”

Lindsey sneered at us like she had won.

Wilson put his feet down, “If Mr. Smith said so, there isn’t much to say about it.” Linsdey opened her mouth, but he continued before she could talk. “Other than, he certainly said something else about making the deal fair to my client.”

Grace watched Wilson for a long moment, “Yes, Mr. Smith did instruct that Doug must agree to the deal to rewrite how the upgrade would work. Given that no Titanic Scale being has ever been allowed an Upgrade before. A hidden addendum can be made, even if the finding of the item itself cannot be changed.”

A lot of back and forth started after this. One of the first things decided was that the Upgrade would from now on be capped at granting increase to Divine Scale at the highest. In a situation like this it would be a random number of items from 1 to 6 would be elevated to divine Scale as well as a random amount of people within the area receiving the effects of the Upgrade. The sticking point was how many of those people should get the benefits. Grace believed a random number of people between 1 and 100 should be selected. Wilson wanted the number to be 10d10 …x1000 because and i am quoting, “Fuck all of you! Unless this comes with a guarantee that Upgrades will be made available to Titanic Scale players this is all just a sad handjob.” Brandon had stupidly asked how a sad handjob worked. Wilson was explaining.

“Just select all friendlies!” I said, as Wilson began explaining the intricacies of heavy eye contact.

Wilson took his foot off the table and sat next to me, “That seems fair to me.”

Grace, unmoved and strangely unbothered by this ‘display’, checked some notes, “The theoretical output of changing the effective yield to all friendly players within narrative range could consistently exceed the 100,000 max. Your second term of holding to unaltered loot drops rates for clearing Dungeons would result in a 3 percent chance of the spontaneous Upgrading of a nation.”

Wilson nodded, “Most of that shit would be uncommon Scale. Crafting fodder. It would also send most of the Titan Spawn into dungeons where their impact is lessened. Take the deal.”

“Sliding Scale to reset every year,” Grace countered, “All, then 10d10x1000, then 10d10 then 1d100, then 1d10.”

Wilson looked to me.

“Is this a good deal?” I asked.

“Pretty good,” Wilson admitted.

“Then we should probably take it, but can you inform them in a way that upsets them?” I asked with a nod.

Wilson picked up the glass tumbler, “We’ll take it,” He then chucked the glass at Brandon’s head…

I was back in the exit to the Dungeon.

Upgrade begins in

5…

4…

3…

2…