"Open up, Owl! The Bear’s here!" Nate rasped, her teeth still rattling like castanets from the cold.
She tried to kick the door, but her foot slipped on the icy threshold and she nearly ended up in a heap.
"To hell with manners," Lena decided. She was so cold she’d lost all feeling in her toes inside her trendy but utterly useless boots. "Ira, move back. Nate, break it down."
"With pleasure!"
Nate gathered the last dregs of energy in her thong’s frozen generators and slammed her shoulder against the obstacle. The chocolate, thick as it was, couldn't take the strain. With a loud crunch, the door splintered inward, and the girls stumbled into the Gingerbread House. The first thing that hit them was a thick, concentrated wave of vanilla, cinnamon, burnt sugar, and fresh baking. The second was genuine, living heat from a massive stove roaring in the corner.
"Hallelujah!" Nate moaned, collapsing onto her knees right on a rug woven from liquorice laces.
Inside, the house looked like a sweet shop that had exploded. Everything was edible: a table made of boiled sweets, biscuit chairs, and candy-floss curtains. Something pink and sugary bubbled in a cauldron over the fire. And amidst all this splendour stood the Hostess. A classic fairytale witch, albeit the System's version: a hooked nose, a wart with three hairs, and an apron stained with flour and treacle. In her hand, she held a massive ladle dripping with glaze.
[Mini-Boss: Gingerbread Witch (Lvl. 15)] [Feature: Fattens up victims before eating them. Master of Sugar Magic.]
Griselda stared at the uninvited guests. The sight was, to put it mildly, unusual: a shivering, half-naked girl in glowing strings, a grim woman in a BDSM harness with ice clinging to the straps, and a massive shape wrapped in a brown sack holding a staff. Behind them loomed a blue hedgehog in frozen trainers.
"What's all this then? Carol singers?" the Witch croaked, recovering from the shock. She gripped her ladle more firmly. "Clear off, the lot of you! I’m not taking visitors today! The nerve of it, breaking in like that! I'll have you rolled in caramel!"
She swung the ladle, and a glob of boiling caramel flew off, splashing onto the floor right next to Lena. In any other situation, level 7 heroines who had just downed a level 12 boss would have laughed at a level 15 mob. But right now—frozen, starving, humiliated, and absolutely livid—this wasn't a boss fight. it was a mugging.
"Caramel?!" Lena bellowed. The symbiote within her, sensing the heat, roared back to life. Black sludge erupted from beneath the harness, forming a massive, jagged blade on her right arm. "You’re threatening me with caramel, you old hag?! I’ve spent five hours freezing my arse off in a snowdrift! I am famished!"
She leapt over the table, knocking over a vase of gingerbread men. The Witch didn't even have time to squeak. Lena grabbed her by the scruff of the neck with her free hand and slammed her face-first into the sponge-cake wall.
"Where’s the food?! Speak up before I turn you into filling!"
"Ow! Let go! You hooligan!" the old woman shrieked, kicking her legs.
Nate, warming up by the stove, joined in. Her plasma cannons had thawed out. She levelled both barrels at the lady of the house.
"Listen here, Nan!" Nate flicked the safety catches. "Hand over everything in that oven! And cocoa! Lots of hot cocoa! Or I’ll turn your cottage into a flambé!"
But the most terrifying of all was Irina. The quiet, modest Priestess of Light, who always hid behind her friends' backs, walked slowly to the table and pushed back her heavy hood. Her eyes shone with a fanatical, hungry glint. Without a word, she picked up a large, still-warm gingerbread house (a model of the actual one) from the table, snapped off the roof, and bit into it with a horrific crunch.
"Mmm... ginger..." she growled through a mouthful, fixing the Witch with a stare that promised eternal torment. She raised her staff like a cricket bat. "MORE!"
The Witch realised resistance was futile. These weren't heroes; they were starving monsters.
"I give in! I give in!" she wailed, sliding down the wall as Lena let go. "Don't eat me! I’m old and stringy! Look, there are jam tarts in the oven! There’s a ham in the larder! Take it all, just don't kill me!"
[Combat Over! The Gingerbread Witch has surrendered.] [Reward: Access to the larder and kitchen.]
For the next hour, the house was a scene of pure gastronomic debauchery. The girls cleared out everything: hot cherry pies, a smoked ham found in the cellar, mountains of gingerbread, marshmallows, and jelly babies. They drank litres of hot chocolate, which the Witch brewed for them in the cauldron with trembling hands.
"Oh god..." Nate groaned, stuffing a piece of ham into her mouth and chasing it with a chocolate-covered marshmallow. "I have never tasted anything better in my life. Eli, pass me that bowl of icing."
Lena sat right by the stove, feeling the heat seep into her bones as her stomach filled with a blissful heaviness. The symbiote was also satisfied—it was absorbing calories directly from her blood, purring like a well-fed cat. Irina sat on the floor, surrounded by wrappers, looking utterly content.
"I think," she remarked philosophically, licking treacle from her fingers, "that gluttony isn't such a terrible sin. Under the circumstances."
Even Rollo got his share. The hedgehog, thawed out by the fire, had found a massive lollipop and was now gnawing on it with loud crunching noises while perched on the windowsill.
"Not bad loot," he noted. "Bit heavy on the sugar, obviously—speed will take a hit—but good for an energy boost."
The Witch sat in the corner on a stool, clutching her ladle to her chest, watching in horror as her winter supplies were obliterated. When the bulk of the food was gone and the girls leaned back against the sponge-cake chairs, full and drowsy, Lena remembered their mission.
"Oi, Gran," she waved lazily toward the hostess. The Witch jumped. "You’re a local. Do you know the way out of this freezer?"
The old woman nodded so fast she nearly lost her wart.
"I do, I do, my ducks! Of course I do! Just leave, you’ve eaten me out of house and home!"
"Speak," Lena narrowed her eyes.
"You need to head north, darlings," the Witch prattled, pointing her ladle toward the window. "Through the Forest of Frozen Tears, past the Lake of Icy Coke. There you’ll find a great rock shaped like a skull. Inside it is a cave. That’s the passage."
"Passage to where?" Nate asked.
"To the 'Technical Areas'," the Witch whispered, as if it were a swear word. "It’s warm there. And there are... those things... machines humming. A terrifying place."
"The Laundry!" the girls breathed in unison.
"Perfect," Lena stood up, stretching. Her harness felt comfortable again; her body was warm and ready for a scrap. "Let's move. Ira, get back in your bag. Nate, check your batteries. Rollo, stop eating, you’ll pop."
"Can we... take some for the road?" Irina looked hopefully at the remaining gingerbread.
"We must," Lena nodded. "Nan, give us a sturdy bag."
They loaded a whole sack with provisions (mostly sweets, which wasn't exactly healthy, but high in calories). The Witch happily gave them everything, just to see the back of them.
"Cheers for the hospitality, Nan!" Nate shouted from the doorway, tucking a candy cane into her belt in place of a pistol. "We might pop back in sometime!"
"God forbid," the Witch crossed herself, slamming the broken door behind them.
They were back in the cold forest, but everything felt different now. Fed, warmed, and with a goal ahead. Even the frost didn't seem quite so biting. They walked quickly, led by Rollo, who, recharged by the sugar, had started running in circles again, lighting the way with his flashing trainers.
"Forest of Frozen Tears! Lake of Icy Coke!" he commented. "What melodramatic names for a bunch of props and a puddle of brown sludge."
They encountered almost no monsters. Apparently, word of the gang that had eaten the head Witch's supplies had spread fast. A few "Malicious Elves" flickered in the shadows, but at the sight of Irina confidently swinging her staff like a bat, they chose to make themselves scarce.
They walked for about an hour until the forest began to thin. Rocks appeared ahead.
"There it is!" Nate shouted, pointing forward.
Sure enough, amongst the snow-covered stones rose a rock that vaguely resembled a skull. Where the "mouth" should be, the entrance to a cave loomed. But that wasn't what caught their attention. Light was pouring out of the cave. Not the cold light of the forest, but a warm, golden, inviting glow. And it didn't smell of damp like the Crypts. It smelled of... wealth. Old gold, dust, and adventure.
[Location: Cave of Forgotten Treasures] [Threat Level: Low.] [Description: A legendary place where, rumour has it, the loot of old heroes is kept. The entrance opens once every thousand years (or whenever the System decides to throw the players a bone).]
The girls stopped before the entrance.
"Do you lot feel that too?" Nate whispered, a greedy glint shining behind her visor. "That’s the reek of epic loot."
"Looks like a bonus level," Lena agreed. Her symbiote was intrigued as well—it could sense powerful artefacts within. "Maybe the System’s decided to apologise for that ‘Fashion Verdict’ and the snowdrift?"
"It’s glowing so... warmly in there," Irina took a step forward. "Perhaps there are some new clothes? Proper ones?"
"And weapons! New plasma cannons!" Nate was practically sprinting now.
"Hold it," Lena grabbed her by the shoulder. "Don’t rush in. Could be a trap. Rollo, scan it."
The hedgehog rolled up to the entrance, adjusted his glasses, and sniffed the air.
"Hmm... No mobs. No traps. It’s a clean zone. Only... there’s an awful lot of gold. Mountains of the stuff."
"Mountains?" Nate’s mouth began to water.
"Right. We’re going in. But stay sharp. Ira, shield ready. Nate, keep your eyes peeled."
They entered the cave. The sight was staggering. The vast space shimmered, the walls encrusted with crystals emitting a golden glow. The floor was carpeted in coins—gold, silver, bearing various crests. Goblets, jewel-encrusted swords, and ancient tomes lay scattered about.
But the main attraction was in the centre. On a small dais stood three chests. Massive, iron-bound things made of dark wood with gold trim. And they were open. The lids were thrown back, and treasures were literally spilling out. Pearl necklaces, crowns, gleaming breastplates, spell scrolls. Everything shone, sparkled, and beckoned.
[Attention! Legendary Loot Discovered!]
The girls’ breath caught in their throats. After all the humiliation, pain, cold, and hunger, this felt like a well-earned reward.
"Oh, blimey..." Nate exhaled. She forgot her caution. She forgot her pistols. She saw nothing but those chests. "It’s all mine. Mine! I’ll buy myself an island! I’ll buy the whole bloody System!"
She bolted toward the central chest.
"Nate, wait!" Lena shouted, but it was too late. Greed had bypassed the pirate’s brain entirely.
Nate reached the chest and, without a second thought, dived in headfirst, scattering coins and grabbing everything within reach.
"Gold! Artefacts! There’s heaps of—"
SNAP!
The sound was sharp, wet, and terrifying. The lid didn't slam shut. Instead, the edges of the chest—the ones with the gold trim—suddenly came to life. They transformed into massive, toothed jaws. The wood became flesh, and the gold became razor-sharp teeth. The chest clamped shut around Nate’s waist.
"AAAAARGH!" The scream was muffled, as her head and shoulders were trapped inside.
"Nate!" Lena rushed toward her, activating her blades.
But in that moment, instinct kicked in. Greed is a contagious thing. Seeing the chest eating her friend, Lena felt a flash of panic—not for Nate, but that the loot would vanish. Her gaze fell on the left chest. There, at the very top of a pile of gold, lay a black, pulsing object. A bracer. A perfect fit for her symbiote.
‘I’ll just grab it real quick and then help Nate,’ the thought flashed through her mind. The symbiote gave her a gleeful nudge. Lena dived into the left chest, reaching for the bracer.
SNAP!
The second chest came alive. The jaws clamped down on her hips, right over her BDSM-style harness. The pain was sharp but not fatal—the teeth got bogged down in the thick latex and straps. But she was stuck.
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"Bollocks!" Lena roared, trying to brace her hands against the bottom of the chest (which turned out to be sticky and warm, like the tongue of a giant beast). "It’s a trap!"
Irina was left alone. She stood in her habit, clutching her staff, watching her two friends being devoured by furniture. Or rather, watching them stick out of the chests arse-wards, kicking their legs frantically.
[Enemy: Mimic-Trap ‘Greedy Maw’ (Lvl. 20)] [Feature: Does not attack until the victim climbs inside. Captures and slowly digests.]
"Girls! Hang on! I’m coming!" Irina panicked. What should she do? Hit the chests? What if she hurt her friends?
Then her gaze fell upon the third chest, the one on the right. It was still open. And inside lay a Dress. Not a slutty one, not a tattered one. A magnificent, snow-white gown of a High Priestess, embroidered with gold and pearls. It looked sturdy, modest, and incredibly beautiful. Beside it lay a new staff, topped with a glowing angel.
"Oh..." Irina took a step. "It’s so lovely..."
‘Don’t do it! It’s a trap! You can see it right there!’ her common sense screamed.
‘But it’s so... right. You’ll be a real Priestess in that. You’ll save them all,’ a voice whispered inside—the voice of the girl who had always dreamed of being beautiful and powerful.
As if hypnotised, Irina approached the chest. She reached out to touch the fabric... and tripped over the hem of her heavy habit. She tumbled forward, straight into the open maw of the third mimic.
SNAP!
The chest clamped shut at her waist, swallowing her head, shoulders, and arms along with the staff. All that remained on the outside was the bottom of her voluminous habit and her feet in simple boots.
The silence of the cave was broken only by the muffled screams, swearing, and huffing of three girls stuck inside monsters.
"Let go, you wooden bastard! I’ll knock your teeth out!" Lena’s voice was dull and furious.
"My thong! It’s shorting out! I’m getting electrocuted! Aaaaah!" Nate shrieked.
"Mmmph! Mmmph! Help! It’s dark and wet in here!" Irina muffled piteously.
The three mimics stood side-by-side, purring contentedly and munching away. Their victims protruded in the most humiliating positions imaginable. Nate’s power-thong flashed desperately, illuminating her thrashing legs. The straps on Lena’s hips were stretched to the limit. Irina’s habit had hitched up, revealing—thankfully—a pair of quite sensible, warm bloomers.
From behind a large stalagmite, Rollo rolled out. The hedgehog adjusted his glasses and surveyed the epic scene of failure.
"Deary me," he drawled. "Talk about biting off more than you can chew. A classic of the genre."
He pulled a small notebook and a pencil from his pocket.
"Let’s note that down: ‘Party wiped on chests due to total lack of brains.’ Dungeon completion rating: Two out of ten. Mind you, the angle..." he tilted his head, inspecting the three protruding behinds. "The angle is interesting. Shame the camera’s dead."
"ROLLO!" Three voices merged into one muffled roar from the depths of the chests. "IF WE GET OUT OF THIS, YOU’RE DEAD MEAT!"
"‘If’," the hedgehog noted philosophically, sitting down on a pile of gold coins and pulling out a half-eaten gingerbread biscuit. "The operative word is ‘if’. You lot hang about for a bit and think about what you’ve done. I’m going to have a snack. I’m on a schedule."
He crunched loudly on the biscuit while the three heroines continued to kick their legs unsuccessfully in the maws of the satisfied mimics.
The situation in the Cave of Forgotten Treasures had rapidly escalated from "epic fail" to "humiliating catastrophe." The mimics, pleased with their catch, were purring like giant wooden cats. Inside them, it was dark, hot, and smelled of old mould and some kind of digestive acid that was already starting to eat away at their clothes.
"Rollo! You blue piece of work!" Lena’s voice from the depths of the left chest was muffled, but it held enough fury to melt steel. "If you don't get us out of here right now, I swear by my symbiote, I’ll find a way out and shove those skates of yours right up—"
"Alright, alright, keep your hair on, boss!" Rollo tossed the biscuit aside and busily adjusted his glasses. "Operation Save Our Arses is commencing."
He rolled over to the central chest, where Nate’s legs were thrashing about.
"Right, pirate, hold steady. We’re going to... er... extract you."
The hedgehog grabbed Nate’s ankle with his tiny blue paws.
"One, two, heave!"
He pulled with all his might. His wheeled sneakers skidded across the gold coins.
"OW! That hurts, you muppet!" Nate howled. "You’ll pull my leg off! And my generators! They’re sparking, don’t touch them!"
ZAP!
Rollo received a jolt of static electricity from the power-thong, let out a squeak, and was sent flying into a pile of goblets.
"That’s one option off the table," he noted, dusting himself off. "Electrical defences active. Right, let’s try a lever."
He grabbed a heavily decorated two-handed sword from the floor—which was clearly heavier than he was—and, grunting, lugged it over to Lena’s chest.
"Agent Vector, don’t move. I’m going to apply the Archimedes method."
He tried to jam the blade of the sword between the lid of the chest and Lena’s back, which was encased in her BDSM harness.
"Don’t you dare cut my straps, you overgrown hamster!" Lena growled, feeling the cold metal against her skin.
Rollo threw his entire weight onto the sword. The Mimic gave a disgruntled groan, its wooden "lips" clamping shut even tighter.
CRACK.
The ancient, epic two-handed sword—which might once have belonged to some legendary king—simply snapped in two.
"Well," Rollo looked at the hilt in his hands. "The quality of loot these days is rubbish. A cheap knock-off, clearly."
"ROLLO!!!" the cry of the three captives merged into a single chorus of despair. The acid inside was starting to burn in earnest.
"I’m thinking, I’m thinking! My processor is overheating!" The hedgehog began running in circles around the chests, his wheels throwing off sparks. "Maybe I should tickle them? Or offer a bribe? Oi, chests! Do you want a biscuit? Fresh from the witch!"
The Mimics ignored him, continuing to slowly and savouringly digest their victims. Inside the right-hand chest, Irina was suffocating. It was dark, cramped, and unbearably hot. The sticky wooden walls pressed in on her; the heavy woollen habit she had been so proud of now felt like a trap soaked in sweat and fear.
‘I’m going to die here,’ the panicked thought thrashed in her head. ‘The stupidest death imaginable. All because I fell for a pretty dress. You greedy muppet.’
She felt the Mimic’s digestive juices beginning to eat away at the thick wool on her shoulders. Soon they would reach her skin. Her attempts to summon the Light had failed—in this suffocating darkness, her magic wouldn't work. Her staff was pinned somewhere beneath her, a useless piece of wood. From outside came the screams of Lena and Nate, and Rollo’s frantic scurrying. They were in trouble too. And all because they had let their guard down.
‘I am a Priestess... I have to save them... I promised Mum I’d come back...’
But the fear was stronger. It paralysed her. Irina felt like that little girl in the hall of mirrors again—worthless and weak. And then, through the fear, another feeling broke through. Anger. Not the hysterical anger Nate had, nor the cold fury of Lena. A deep, ancient anger at herself. At her own weakness. At this stupid System playing games with them. At this stinking chest that dared to try and eat her.
"Enough," she whispered into the sticky darkness.
Her nickname. Ryu Kiko. She had chosen it by chance when she’d registered on a cosplay forum years ago. She’d just liked the sound of it. "Ryu" meant "dragon" in Japanese. She had never given it serious thought. What kind of dragon was she? She was a mouse, hiding in a cloak. Но now, in this death trap, something inside her answered to that name.
Somewhere deep within her being, beneath layers of fear, insecurities, and the forced role of a "Goody-Two-Shoes," something massive, hot, and very, very hungry began to stir. Not Light. Fire.
"I said... ENOUGH!" The whisper turned into a roar that surprised even her.
It grew warm inside the chest. Not from the Mimic’s breath, but from her own. The heavy woollen habit began to smoulder from the inside.
[Warning! Critical emotional spike!] [Activating hidden soul potential.] [Identity confirmed: RYU (Dragon).]
Outside, Rollo—who was about to try and set one of the chests on fire with a Christmas cracker—froze. The right-hand Mimic, with Irina sticking out of it, suddenly stopped its contented purring. It began to tremble. Smoke started billowing from the gaps between its toothed lids. Not ordinary smoke, but a golden-crimson haze that reeked of sulphur and volcanic ash.
"Er... what’s going on?" Rollo backed away. "Has the Holy-Joe just blown a gasket?"
The chest began to glow white-hot. The wood blackened, the gold trim melted, dripping onto the coins. Inside, Irina no longer felt fear. Only power. An ancient, primal might demanding a way out. Her body was burning. Her habit caught fire and vanished, incinerated in the blink of an eye. But the fire didn't burn her. It became her new skin. She straightened up to her full height, bracing her hands and back against the walls of the trap.
"I. AM. NOT. FOOD!" her voice thundered like a volcanic eruption.
KABOOM!
The Mimic didn't just open—it exploded from the inside. Splinters, molten gold, and teeth flew like shrapnel across the cave. In the chest's place stood Irina. But she was no longer the girl in the potato sack. She stood amidst a raging inferno that emanated from her very self. The remnants of her habit were gone, and she was now wearing that "scandalous" white dress with the slits she’d been hiding underneath. But now, it didn't look vulgar. It shone as if woven from light and flame. Her eyes, usually gentle and blue, had become vertical and golden, like a reptile's. A translucent, ghostly aura in the shape of a massive oriental dragon coiled around her body. Ghostly wings, woven from golden fire, unfurled behind her back.
[Congratulations! You have unlocked a Hidden Subclass: DRAGON PRIESTESS.] [Unique skill acquired: ‘Awakening of the Ancient’.]
Irina—no, Ryu now—slowly turned her head toward the remaining two chests, which were so terrified they had stopped chewing.
"You dared to touch my pack," her voice sounded in a double register: human and a low, vibrating dragon growl.
She raised her hand. She no longer needed a staff. Her hands had become weapons themselves. Claws of pure flame formed at her fingertips.
"DRAGON’S BREATH! FLAME OF PURGATION!"
She didn't breathe fire. She simply spread her arms, and a wave of golden inferno struck out from her in all directions. The wave engulfed both remaining Mimics. They didn't even have time to squeak. The wood turned instantly to ash; the metal evaporated.
Lena and Nate tumbled out of the vanishing traps onto a pile of hot coins, coughing and gasping for air. Their clothes (what was left of them) were smoking, but fortunately, the dragon fire hadn't touched them, destroying only the monsters. The cave lit up with a series of system notifications.
[Enemy defeated: Mimic-Trap (x3)] [Colossal experience gained for destroying legendary monsters and unlocking a hidden class.] [Level Up! Level Up! Level Up!]
The golden numbers above Irina’s head spun like a frantic slot machine. 8... 10... 15...
[Ryu Kiko has reached Level 20!] [Eli-00 has reached Level 12. Nate has reached Level 12.]
The fire gradually died down. The ghostly dragon around Irina faded into the air. She became an ordinary girl in a white dress again, standing amidst the smoking ruins. Only her eyes still glowed faintly with gold. She blinked, as if waking from a trance, and looked at her hands.
"What... what was that?"
Rollo crawled out from behind a stalagmite, his glasses slipping down his nose.
"Bloody hell," the hedgehog whispered. "The Holy-Joe turned out to be an absolute tank. Who would’ve thought..."
Lena, somehow getting to her feet and brushing the ash from her harness, walked over to Irina. She looked at her friend with a new feeling—a mix of shock, respect, and... a hint of fear. The symbiote inside her was quiet, acknowledging the superiority of a more ancient power.
"Ira, are you... are you alright?"
"I... I don’t know," Irina swayed, and Lena caught her. "I just got so angry... and there was fire... and a dragon..."
Nate, still sitting on the pile of gold and trying to fix her flickering thong, looked up. Her expression held a complex range of emotions: relief at being saved, horror at what she’d seen, and... a black, stinging, all-consuming envy.
"Level twenty?" her voice trembled. "Level twenty straight away?! And a subclass?! A dragon?!"
She scrambled to her feet, forgetting the pain and humiliation.
"What the hell, System?! I’m here busting my arse, shooting, running around in my knickers, and this... this quiet little thing who can barely string two words together gets everything?! Where’s the justice?! I was supposed to be the lead! ME!"
"Nate, shut it," Lena said tiredly. "She saved us. Be thankful she didn't accidentally roast you along with the chest."
"Oh, sod the lot of you!" Nate kicked a pile of coins. "I always get the leftovers!"
She turned away demonstratively and began furiously stuffing the largest gemstones she could find into the tiny pockets on her belt.
"Right," Lena sighed. The team was back together, and the dynamic had clearly shifted. "Ira... I mean, Ryu. Well done. Seriously. We’ve got our own pocket dragon now. That’s brilliant."
Irina gave a weak smile.
"Thanks, Eli. I... I’ll try to get the hang of it."
"Rollo!" Lena turned to the hedgehog. "Stop gawping. Lead us to the Laundry. We need a wash after being in those... stomachs. And we need to sort through this loot."
The hedgehog saluted.
"Right you are, ma'am! Dragon Guard, follow me! No boss can scare us now!"
They left the cave, leaving behind the mountains of treasure (which, as it turned out, were an illusion and had melted away with the Mimics, leaving only the real loot from the monsters—a pair of rare rings and the heap of gold Nate had managed to grab). The walk to the Laundry was silent. Nate was sulking, Irina was trying to process her new identity, and Lena was simply enjoying the fact that she wasn't freezing (Irina’s dragon aura was now warming them better than any stove).
When the familiar white door with the sign "LAUNDRY" appeared ahead, they were ready to kiss its cold plastic. Inside, everything was just as before: warm, brightly lit, and smelling of cleanliness. The "Clean-Tron 3000" hummed a welcoming tune.
"Greetings, users," the scanner swept over them, pausing on Irina. "Detecting a critical change in the energy signature of user Ryu Kiko. Class 'Priestess of Light' updated to 'Dragon Priestess.' Threat level: Extreme."
"Yeah, yeah, we’re the business," Lena muttered, walking up to the machine. "Listen, you rust bucket. We’ve realised something. We’re wandering around like blind kittens. You’re not just a washing machine; you’re a Merchant. You must have information."
"My databases contain full information regarding the structure of the Festival," the Unit confirmed.
"Then why didn't you tell us before?!" Nate demanded, outraged.
"You did not ask. The interaction protocol is initiated upon user request."
"Grrr..." Lena rubbed her temples. "Fine. Request: we need a map. A map of the next zone. And of this entire madhouse, for that matter."
"Access to navigation data is a premium service," a menu flickered onto the screen.
[Item: Map of Zone ‘Vertical Limit: The Climbing Pavilion’] > [Price: 5,000 credits] > [Item: Full Map of the Festival (with secrets and bosses marked)] > [Price: 50,000 credits]
"Fifty grand?!" Nate whistled. "You’re a mugger, not a washing machine!"
"We have the money from the mimics," Irina reminded them.
Она emptied a handful of gold coins onto the floor, which were automatically converted into credits on their accounts. The total was respectable—about 15,000 between them.
"We’ll take the map of the next zone," Lena decided. "We can't afford the full one yet."
They paid for the map. A schematic of the next location appeared on the screen—a massive, soaring tower riddled with climbing walls, rope parks, suspension bridges, and platforms.
[Zone: Vertical Limit] > [Type: Platforming / Mountaineering] > [Features: High gravity, gale-force winds, flying enemies. One wrong move and you fall into the Abyss of Losers.]
"Climbing?" Nate looked sceptically at her power-thong and high-heeled boots. "Seriously? In this gear, I’ll break my neck on the very first ledge. My forcefields are slippery, and these heels aren't for scrambling."
"Route analysis confirms," the Unit droned. "Current equipment is unsuitable for vertical transit. Risk of falling: 98%."
"And what are you suggesting? That we strip off again?" Lena asked grimly. Her harness was equally ill-suited for climbing—the straps were liable to snag.
"Installation of the 'Gecko Climber' modification pack is recommended."
The shop screen refreshed, displaying new suit models. And yes, they were still a far cry from puritanical.
[For Agent Vector (Symbiote): 'Second Skin: Grip' Mod] > [Description: Harness replaced by an ultra-thin segmented coating of nano-latex, leaving the back, stomach, and thighs exposed for thermoregulation. Key feature: the symbiote forms microscopic hooks on exposed skin areas (palms, soles, knees) for perfect traction on any surface.] > [Appearance: Resembles a very skimpy monokini with elements of a climbing harness integrated directly into the body.]
"So, I’ll literally be sticking to the cliffs with my bare skin?" Lena clarified.
"Precisely. The symbiote will provide better traction than any footwear."
[For the Space Adventurer: 'Anti-Grav Braces' Mod] > [Description: Power-thong replaced by a system of magnetic forcefields. Appears as a set consisting of a short crop-top and hot-pants made of pure light. Brackets on wrists and ankles generate local anti-gravity fields, allowing for high jumps and 'magnetising' to metallic surfaces.] > [Appearance: More light than fabric.]
"Oh, I do love a good jump," Nate cheered up slightly. "And the glow is quite nifty. I’ll take it."
[For the Dragon Priestess: 'Wings of Wind' Mod] > [Description: Given the new capacity for flight (albeit limited), a heavy dress is impermissible. A light, aerodynamic set is offered, consisting of a scaled 'armour-bikini' and a flowing cape of translucent silk that does not hinder the summoning of ghostly wings.] > [Appearance: Somewhere between Princess Leia’s slave outfit and fantasy MMO armour where 'less is more' in terms of stats.]
Irina looked at the proposed option. It was even more revealing than her previous dress. But she felt different now. She was a Dragon. She had nothing to be ashamed of.
"I’ll take it," she said calmly. "I need the space for my wings."
They went through the machine's changing procedure once more. When they emerged, Rollo—who had managed to attach tiny ice-spikes to his skates (just in case)—gave a low whistle.
"Cor. The 'Escort Mountaineers' squad is ready for duty. Listen, are you sure that’s for climbing and not for a pole?"
"Shut it, hedgehog," Lena adjusted her new nano-harness, feeling the symbiote forming rough pads on her palms. "It’s tactical exposure. Let’s go conquer some peaks."
They stepped out of the Laundry, ready for the new zone. Level 12 and Level 20, a map, a dragon, and a look straight off the cover of an adult gaming mag. But now, they didn't feel like victims—they felt like predators, ready to climb to the very top of this insane festival.