Since I’d turned area looting on, the System waited for me to kick open all the common chests before displaying the loot notification.

  [You’ve gained: 400 gold, 14 wood planks, 3 iron ingots, 2 cured resin, 1 cotton bolt, 1 wool bolt, and 1 common blueprint. Total gold: 400.]

  “Damn, that’s like a hundred gold per chest, on top of all the loot.”

  “Your first few chests were scripted with predetermined rewards,” Dickhead said. “These might still be, but a hundred gold sounds about right for a Common treasure chest.”

  I went over and punted the three bronze-hinged, green-glowing chests next.

  [You’ve gained: 1,500 gold and 1 resource node map. Total gold: 1,900.]

  That was a nice chunk of change. I felt the ping as the map automatically loaded up.

  Dickhead said, “Excellent, we should take another group of players with us.”

  I shook my head. “Hell no. They can find their own resources.” Curious to find out if this was just one of the System’s freebies, I asked, “Are maps the only way to find them?”

  “Nope, they’re persistent spawns. Anyone could come across it by exploring. Maps just make it easier.”

  After I knew what they looked like, I’d keep an eye out for them while traversing the Overworld.

  “If PvP is disabled, how can I stop some asshole from stealing from me?”

  “It’s not like that. Resource nodes are per player, just like Instances. Only they’re much smaller and defended by a single guardian.”

  Unfamiliar with yet another new term, I asked, “Guardian?”

  “Think of them like a mini-boss without any special mechanics. Just a tougher-than-average NPC that most players can solo if they’re smart about it.”

  I’d soloed three normal Instance bosses already; this one should be a walk in the park. I’d head out and follow that marker next, right after I opened my last treasure chest.

  I booted that silver-hinged sucker open and waited for the notification.

  [You’ve gained: 2,500 gold and 1 Hope Doll. Total gold: 4,400.]

  I took the toy out of my inventory.

  “A doll?” I turned the straw figure over in my hand.

  Hand-knit from dingy gray yarn, the doll was stuffed with straw that poked through every split seam. One black button stared back at me; the other was missing. I think the scraps of beaten-up linen wrapped around it were supposed to be a dress. It smelled of old hay with a hint of brine, reminding me where I’d found the hidden treasure.

  Dickhead’s voice trembled with excitement.

  “Hoo boy, that’s—that’s a Hope Doll! Ha!”

  That didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. “Is it worth anything?”

  Dickhead laughed. “Worth anything? I don’t know. What’s a get-out-of-jail-free card worth to you?”

  “Less sarcasm and more explaining,” I warned.

  That seemed to calm him to a more understandable level.

  “It’s a consumable. Add it to your hotbar and never take it out of your inventory. It functions as a one-time-use gravekey that you can use in combat.”

  While I didn’t like the idea of clogging up my inventory with another item, I did like having an instant Oh Shit Button.

  I tossed the dingy thing back into my inventory, then added it to my hotbar. I noticed the potion of healing was still on my hotbar from before, which meant it remembered my settings.

  I debated stashing the potions of healing in my Lair storage.

  Do I need to keep them? I wondered. It didn’t really matter how low my Vitality got, except for the whole increased chance of dismemberment thing—that part sucked. But since the potions didn’t restore lost Intellect, I figured I’d be better off with the gold for now.

  I kept the potions on me to sell when I got back into town.

  “Dick, when it comes to leveling Bartering, does it matter if I sell stuff all at once or individually?”

  “Nope. Buying or selling, one at a time or in bulk, doesn’t matter. It’s based on value exchanged.”

  “Good to know. I think I’ll sell everything I don’t need.”

  “Not the Hope Doll?” he was quick to ask.

  “No, I’ll keep that. But I’m going to cash in on the potions and the axe. Don’t need the healing; not when there are leftover brains after every fight. Also, no sense in holding onto a weapon I can’t even lift, especially since it looks like I’ll need every bit of gold I can get.”

  “Okie-dokie,” he said.

  If a thousand hours of gaming had taught me anything, it was to level bartering first. Breaking the economy usually made everything easier.

  I took out my hearthrune and tossed it to the ground. It shattered on impact, even with little more than gravity. I made a mental note not to drop one accidentally just before I saw the System message.

  [Exiting your Lair. Please wait…]

  [Welcome to Safe Harbor.]

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  This time I knew not to dawdle and boogied my ass out of the flames before it got too hot.

  I wanted to pick up two hearthrunes this time. If they were going to take up space anyway, might as well keep a spare while I could afford it. Also, I learned you couldn’t just sell everything to any old vendor.

  The bartender placed a hand on her hip. “I’ll give you fifty-two gold for the Macallan 18, but darlin’, what am I supposed to do with potions of healing or a two-handed axe?”

  I shrugged. “If I were a bartender, I’d keep a weapon behind the counter… just in case.”

  She placed her arm on the counter, leaning forward with a devilish grin. “And who says I don’t?”

  I ended up selling the Macallan and picking up two hearthrunes.

  A System notification flashed after completing the transaction.

  [You’ve spent: 147 gold. Total gold: 4,253.]

  Before Dickhead could try to guilt-trip me again, I cleared my throat loudly.

  “Ahem!” I waited for the tavern’s commotion to settle. “Listen up. I’m heading out to a resource node. Don’t care who wants to tag along, just… keep up.”

  Most of them had the same question on their faces—well, those that still had faces. A couple of oozes bubbled in the corner.

  I cut them off by saying, “Before anyone asks, you can keep your damn gold.”

  That triggered a wave of murmurs as they turned to each other, asking if they’d heard me correctly. I hated that Dickhead was right, but taking folks along didn’t cost me a penny, and it was the decent thing to do.

  “I’ve got a couple of errands to run before I head out,” I said.

  A hairy gnoll stood up and asked, “Can I bring a friend?”

  “What do I care? If you’ve managed to make any in this clusterfrank, good for you. Just be back here by the time I’m done selling my shit, or we’ll leave without you.”

  I was surprised when a chorus of chairs barked in unison as half the tavern got up and rushed for the exit. Jesus, these poor schmucks were going to need a lot of help. It looked like most of them spent too much time schmoozing with each other and not enough time getting shit done. How else could they have made so many friends?

  I stopped just before leaving the tavern. Someone had moved the grandfather clock over near the exit. Didn’t look like they fixed it though.

  I knew Dr. Patchwork would take the potions off my hands, so I took a trip across town and swung by his office.

  Was it day or night in the Overworld? I couldn’t tell from down here. It was always so dark. The town itself was like a city that never slept. The colored bioluminescent glow reminded me of neon lights. It helped take my mind off the fact that this whole damn town was probably just one huge, pulsing organism.

  * * *

  “I see you’ve still got all your limbs,” Dr. Patchwork said when I walked into his exam room. His creepy fungalshade attendant had waved me on through.

  “Got some more potions of healing if you’re interested.”

  “I’m always in the market for them. It’s about the only service players are interested in. Not many folks are out there losing limbs.”

  I disagreed. “I’m sure there are, they just don’t live long enough to get them sewn back on.”

  Dr. Patchwork frowned. “Suppose you’re right.”

  “You wouldn’t be interested in a two-handed axe of the headsman, would you?”

  “I’m in the business of putting heads back on, not taking them off.”

  I figured as much, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

  “Know anyone who might?”

  He tossed up the trade window. I selected the potions, checked the total, and tapped Accept.

  [You’ve gained: 520 gold. Total gold: 4,773.]

  The following skill-up notification brought a half smile to my face.

  [Your Bartering skill has increased to level 2.]

  “There’s a sporeguard who deals in that sort of thing down in the hole,” he said.

  I wasn’t interested in any holes but was interested in freeing up my inventory slot.

  “Thanks, doc,” I said, remembering what Dickhead said about being nice to the NPCs.

  Speaking of my manager, I waited until I got outside and then asked, “Dick, can you mark the shop the doc was talking about?”

  “Can do, give me a sec… You should see it now.”

  I did. A white beam dropped into the darker part of the town.

  While Dickhead wasn’t an NPC, he was my manager, and a little gratitude went a long way.

  I sucked it up, muttering, “Thanks…”

  I didn’t believe in thanking people for just doing their damn job, but the guy seemed decent enough. Besides, people did more for those they liked, and staying on his good side was worth it for that reason alone.

  I walked the streets, following the beacon Dickhead had left me. I finally felt like there was room to breathe again. There weren’t nearly as many players walking the town as when I’d first arrived. Probably busy building Lairs, clearing Instances, and grinding NPCs. Or at least they should be if they knew what was good for them. Either way, the extra space suited me just fine. At least I could walk down the damn street without bumping into every jackass along the way.

  The “hole” of the city was just a lower layer, accessible by a dark, spiral staircase. It was plenty wide but way too squishy. The markers must have been auto-updating or some shit, because once I’d stepped off the last step, it moved from highlighting the staircase to shining on some purple-bricked shop. I don’t think it was stone though. Stone didn’t pulse with the beat of the mycelial town.

  A stupid bell chimed above my head as I tugged the driftwood door open. I didn’t know what to expect when the doc mentioned a sporeguard, but it wasn’t this.

  The thing was three shades of blue with gray streaks, sculpted into the outline of a samurai. Its wide cap drooped low like a warped straw hat, the underside ribbed with gills that flared when it breathed. Thick plates of fibrous mycelium layered its arms and legs like mismatched armor. Rough and uneven, they looked like splotchy, fleshy, lacquered plates.

  It wasn’t wearing clothes; its skin had just grown into the shapes of sleeves and greaves. Tendrils stitched the plates together, pulsing faintly as if blood ran through them.

  Instead of swords, axes hung across its back and belt: a long-handled cleaver, a heavy one-hander, and a palm-sized hatchet, all standing in for the katana, wakizashi, and tanto of a more traditional samurai.

  I grinned. Looked like I’d come to the perfect place to offload my two-handed axe of the headsman.

  I approached the counter and said, “Hey, bud.”

  I winced the moment I realized he was one of those chest-talkers.

  “Have we met before?” he replied via sporespeech.

  At least this guy could form full sentences. I tried looking him in the eyes, but he didn’t even have a damn face.

  “I don’t think so. Why?”

  “How do you know my name?”

  I shot him a funny look. He wasn’t making any sense.

  “I don’t.” Not that I was dying to know.

  “My name is Bud.”

  I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, and thought, Jesus Christ, the System’s gotta be franking with me. I had shit to do and places to be, so I cut to the chase.

  “I’ve got a nice axe I’m looking to sell. You interested?”

  I must have said his favorite word or something because I had his undivided attention now.

  “An axe? May I see it?”

  That would be a problem, especially if neither of us could lift it once I got it out of my inventory.

  “Uh, can you see it if I put it in a Trade Menu?”

  I didn’t have to ask twice. The menu appeared instantly, and I added the axe.

  Buying

  Null

  Selling

  1x two-handed axe of the headsman: 540 gold.

  Total: 540 gold.

  [Accept] [Barter] [Decline] [Cancel]

  “I am very interested,” he said.

  I watched the price jump as he spoke. 540 gold to 594 gold. Unsure whether it was a conscious decision to raise the sale price or a System reaction, I kept my damn mouth shut and hit Accept.

  [You’ve gained: 594 gold. Total gold: 5,367.]

  I was a little disappointed when I didn’t get another Bartering skill-up.

  Bud pulled the axe out of his inventory and gave it a couple of test chops to try it out.

  “Hmm,” the bastard hummed in my chest. “Good balance, only slightly top-heavy.”

  That’s when I realized he was throwing it around like a broomstick. Dickhead had mentioned you needed fifty Strength to even lift the damn thing.

  Note to self, I thought. Do not frank with Bud.

  “You good?” I asked, inching my way to the door as he practiced axe-katas, axe-bending, or whatever the hell he was doing with it.

  He rested the axe head on the floor, waved to me, and said, “Come back anytime!”

  I stepped out of his shop and headed back to the tavern. Something felt off, but I didn’t realize what it was until Safe Harbor came into view.