The adrenaline rush from defeating the boss had ebbed away, leaving a ringing emptiness in her head and a dull ache in her soles—unaccustomed as they were to sprinting over pulverised concrete. Irina, still glowing with a faint golden halo (the priestess's passive aura, presumably), was warily poking the pile of loot left by the ‘Reborn Nightmare’ with the tip of her new staff.
“Eli, there’s… quite a lot here. Some coins with skulls on, vials of red and blue gunk. And this.” She hooked her staff under something black and leathery.
Lena hopped off the stage, wincing as her feet hit the cold floor. Her eyes, already used to picking out system messages, focused on the object.
[Item: Shadowshade Boots (Rare)]
[Armour Class: Light Leather]
[Stats: +5 Agility, +10% Movement Speed. Built-in bonus: Silent Step.]
[Description: Perfect for those who enjoy a bit of flanking. No clicking, no slipping, and they look smashing with latex.]
“Are you joking? Is the System actually reading my mind?” Lena snatched up the boots.
They weren't quite as flashy as her patent leather stiletto boots; they looked more like tactical special-forces gear, only made of matte black leather with elegant lacing. She pulled them on quickly. They fit perfectly, as if they’d been bespoke. Her feet immediately felt supported and comfortable. She did a couple of test hops. Not a sound—a soft, cushioned landing.
“Magic,” she exhaled. “Now I’m ready to kick some arse in comfort. Ir, did you find anything for yourself?”
The priestess was holding a thin silver bracelet set with a blue stone, looking somewhat uncertain.
[Item: Amulet of Clarity (Uncommon)] [Stats: +10 Mana, +5% Mana Regen Speed.]
“Put it on, you’ll need it,” Lena commanded, feeling her confidence as party leader return. “You’re our power bank now—you need all the mana you can get. And these bottles…” she picked up the vials of red and blue liquid. “‘Minor Healing Potion’ and ‘Minor Mana Potion’. Classics. We’ll split them fifty-fifty.”
They tucked the loot away (amazingly, Lena’s costume now featured hidden pockets she definitely hadn't sewn in, and a small pouch had appeared on Irina’s belt). Once the gear was sorted, the girls stood in the middle of the wrecked main hall and looked around. The euphoria of victory had vanished, replaced by the cold weight of reality.
They were alone in a massive, empty, mutilated hangar. Purple emergency lights pulsed, casting ghastly shadows. The silence was deafening.
“Eli,” Irina’s voice wavered. She pressed her shoulder against her friend's. “Where is everyone? Thousands of people… they can't have just vanished. Maybe they were evacuated while we were in the dressing room?”
“All at once? In five minutes? Without making a sound or causing a panic?” Lena shook her head. She didn't want to voice her suspicions. “Ir, remember that first mannequin? And that mountain of meat we just dropped? I think… they aren't people anymore. The System… it’s done something to them. Turned them into mobs. Into XP.”
Irina clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening with horror.
“Are you saying we… that we were killing…”
“We were defending ourselves,” Lena cut her off sharply. “That’s the main rule now. It’s either you or them. Don't dwell on it, or you’ll go spare. Our job is to find a way out. If this is a ‘Level 1 Dungeon’ like the System said, there has to be an exit to the surface.”
“But where? The main doors were over there.” Irina pointed toward the Expo Centre’s exit.
Where there used to be wide glass doors leading to the street, there was now a solid wall of grey, porous material, like set concrete mixed with bone.
“Right, the front door is out,” Lena noted, trying to hide her desperation. “So we look for the staff entrance. Let's head deeper into the hangar. Toward the warehouses and the plant rooms. There should be loading bays back there.”
They moved out of the main hall, treading over a carpet of comic books, crushed figurines, and the tatters of someone’s hopes for a fun weekend. The deeper they went into the bowels of the Expo Centre, the less it resembled a human building. Space was warping. Corridors that should have been straight twisted at impossible angles. Staircases led to dead ends, terminating in the ceiling. Doors opened onto nothing—just swirling purple darkness behind them. It was a mad, surreal labyrinth built by a diseased mind on the ruins of reality.
And the labyrinth was not empty.
“Shh…” Lena stopped dead, putting an arm out in front of Irina.
Ahead, in the gloom of the corridor leading to the former ‘18+ Zone’, they could hear heavy, wheezing breath and a wet, slapping sound.
[Enemy Detected: Lustful Stalker (Lvl 2)]
A figure staggered around the corner. Once, he might have been an ordinary festival-goer—he was draped in the remains of jeans and a stretched t-shirt featuring an anime girl. But now his arms had grown unnaturally long, his fingers ending in hooked claws. His lower jaw hung slack, dripping viscous saliva. His eyes, bulging and bloodshot, swiveled in their sockets until they locked onto the girls.
“H-heh… Cosplay-ers…” the creature rasped with a voice like rusted metal grinding together. “Let me… touch… A photo… send nudes…”
“Ugh, bloody hell,” Lena grimaced with loathing. “Seriously, System? These are your mobs? Living stereotypes of basement-dwellers?”
The creature let out a gurgling roar and lunged at them. It moved jerkily but fast, reaching out with long, greedy hands.
“Ir, shield!”
Irina reacted instantly. A flick of her staff, and a translucent golden wall appeared in front of Lena. The creature's claws screeched against the magical barrier, unable to leave a mark.
“My turn!” Lena stepped through the shield (it let allies through) without wasting energy on a full transformation. Her right arm blackened, shifting into her now-familiar blade-arm. “Hands off the kit, you tosser! I spent two months sewing this!”
The strike was quick and precise. The blade took the creature's head off along with part of its shoulder. The thing didn't even have time to process what had happened before it dissolved into pixels.
[25 Experience Gained.]
“Easy,” Lena snorted, retracting the blade. “But revolting.”
They pressed on, and the further they went, the more of these creatures they encountered. The labyrinth was crawling with them. There were ‘Drooling Spectators’—fat, slow zombies that spat a sticky gunk that slowed movement. If that filth hit Lena, her Agility dropped by 20% for several seconds. There were ‘Cringey Photographers’—creatures with cameras fused into their faces. They fired blinding flashes (a ‘Blindness’ debuff for 5 seconds) and tried to get close enough to ‘get the shot’ with their claws.
“Ir, heal! I’m hit!” Lena shouted, hacking through another ‘Photographer’ that had managed to slash her shoulder.
“Sacred Touch!” Hiding behind her friend's back, Irina cast the healing spell. A warm glow knitted the wound shut.
They were learning to work as a pair on the fly. Lena was the ‘tank’ and ‘DPS’ rolled into one. She took the brunt of the attacks, drew the aggro, and shredded them with her blades, constantly manoeuvring thanks to her new boots. Her fighting style had become aggressive and vicious—she was venting all her fear and disgust on these freaks. Irina proved to be the perfect support. She grasped the skill mechanics quickly. ‘Minor Heal’—fast, low mana cost, patches up small nicks. ‘Holy Shield’—blocks physical damage. And she’d also unlocked ‘Beacon’—a simple ball of light that floated above them, cutting through the purple gloom and clearly rattling the mobs, who were used to the dark.
They fought their way through ‘Artist’s Alley’, which had turned into a narrow passage walled with desks and chairs. They fended off a pack of ‘Armchair Critics’—small, nimble goblin-like things that threw toxic ink and shrieked about things being ‘not canon’. After an hour (or thereabouts, time was weird here), they were spent.
“Rest,” Lena commanded after clearing a small room that had once been a catering store.
They barricaded the only door with metal shelving. It was relatively quiet here, save for the distant moans of zombies and the screech of metal. The girls slid down the wall to the floor. Irina immediately pulled out a mana bottle and downed half of it. Lena took a swig of the health potion—it tasted like cherry cough syrup mixed with blood.
“How are you doing?” Lena asked, looking at her friend. Irina looked exhausted. Her white robe, though self-repairing, was crumpled again and stained with some foul substance.
“I… I don't know, Eli. I keep waiting to wake up. For this to be some stupid prank. For the organisers to walk in, turn the proper lights on, and apologise.” Irina hugged her knees and buried her face in them. “I’m not even much of a gamer, you know that. I cosplay because I like the pretty dresses. I love sewing, I love taking photos. Not… all this. Guts, blood, mana… I’m scared, Eli. Properly scared. What if we actually die here? What if my mum’s waiting at home for me and I never show up?”
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
Lena felt a pang of guilt. To be honest, she was starting to find a twisted sort of thrill in it all. The symbiote's power was intoxicating. The chance to slice through the people who used to annoy her with their leery stares brought a certain satisfaction. She was adapting. But Irka was too soft for this shit.
“Oi,” Lena put an arm around her friend's shoulders. “Look at me. We aren't going to die. You’ve got me—a walking food processor in latex. And I’ve got you—a pocket goddess who can stitch my head back on if I lose it. We’re a team. We’ll get out of here. I promise you.”
Irina raised her tear-filled eyes and gave a weak smile.
“You’re so confident… as if you’ve been preparing for this your whole life,” she said.
“Maybe I have,” Lena smirked. “Did I spend all those hours in Dark Souls for nothing? Right, stop blubbing. Finish your mana and let’s get a move on. We need to find those bloody loading bays”.
They were about to dismantle the barricade when they heard sounds from the other side. It wasn’t the shuffling of a zombie, but the hurried, panicked steps of a person. Then came a distinct sound: click-click-click. A trigger hitting an empty chamber.
“No, no, no! Work, you bastard, work!” a woman’s voice cried out, full of hysteria and rage.
This was followed by a familiar raspy voice: “H-heh… Piratey… come to daddy…”.
“A person!” Irina startled. “Eli, someone’s alive out there! She needs help!”.
Lena frowned. The voice sounded vaguely familiar—and very unpleasant.
“Alive, sure… but who? Fine, break down the barricade,” Lena said.
They hauled the shelving units aside and burst into the corridor. It was a perfect picture: a dead end formed by a collapsed ceiling. In the corner, backed against a concrete slab, stood a girl. She was wearing a pirate peacoat hanging open over a tiny bikini consisting of three triangles of fabric and a couple of strings, barely covering the strategically important areas. On her head was a tricorne with a massive feather. On her feet were thigh-high boots that could rival Lena’s in terms of impracticality.
In each hand, she clutched a futuristic pistol—flashy, chrome-plated things with a bunch of lights. And they were absolutely useless. She was desperately pulling the triggers, aiming at an encroaching crowd of five ‘Lustful Stalkers’. The pistols only made pathetic clicking sounds and blinked their diodes.
“Don’t come any closer, you freaks! I’ll sue you! Do you have any idea how many subscribers I have?!” she shrieked.
Lena stopped dead in her tracks.
“Oh,” she said. “It’s Nellie. What an… unexpected surprise”.
Irina recognised the girl too and slowed her pace. Nellie, known online as Nate, was a star on Patreon and OnlyFans. To put it mildly, she was disliked in the cosplay community. Many felt she was a parasite on the culture. Her cosplays always followed the principle of “minimum clothing, maximum clout”. She’d take a popular character, strip them down to their knickers, throw on a cheap wig, and sell photo sets for ridiculous money. There was no crafting, no roleplaying—just pure commercialism and the exploitation of sexuality. For someone like Lena, who spent months slaving over the details of a costume, Nate was the living embodiment of everything wrong with the modern industry.
“Eli? Ryukiko?” Nate saw them. Recognition flickered in her eyes, then relief, followed immediately by her usual arrogance, despite the situation. “You?! What the hell are you doing here? And what are these tramps?” she asked, nodding at the zombies.
“Just taking a stroll,” Lena replied phlegmatically, in no hurry to join the fray. “And these are our new fans. Yours too, apparently. Look how much they want an autograph”.
One of the stalkers got within a metre of Nate, reaching out with clawed hands toward her prominent bust, which was barely contained by the bikini.
“Do something! Get them away!” Nate shrieked, trying to hit a zombie over the head with her pistol.
The blow was weak; the plastic made a hollow thud against the rotting flesh. The zombie only gave a happy purr and grabbed the hem of her peacoat.
“Eli, we have to help!” Irina was already raising her staff. “She’s going to die!”.
“Oh, come off it, Ir. It’s Nate. She’s used to working with this kind of audience,” Lena spat venomously.
But Irina was already casting.
“Beacon!”.
A bright ball of light flared above the zombies’ heads. The creatures hissed, shielding their eyes with their hands, and were momentarily distracted from their victim.
“Fine, you saintly nutter,” Lena sighed. “Aggro’s on me!”.
She activated her ‘Abyssal Blade’ and hacked into the crowd from the side. First strike—one head down. Second—a severed arm.
“Oi, you tossers! Your queen is here!” she shouted, drawing their attention to herself.
The zombies, growling, switched to the new, more aggressive target. Lena spun like a top, dodging claws and spit. From behind, Irina applied shields and patched up minor scratches.
Nate, having caught a breather, slid down the wall, panting heavily. She watched Lena, who was mincing the monsters with frightening efficiency, with a mix of horror and envy.
“What… what is that shite?” she whispered, staring at the black blade. “How do you have special effects?”.
When the last zombie dissolved into experience points, Lena retracted the blade and approached Nate. The latter tried to look dignified, straightening her tricorne, but it was a lost cause—her mascara was running and her coat was torn.
“Well, hello there, ‘Pirate Queen,’” Lena crossed her arms over her chest. “How’s business? Are the subscribers happy with the new content?”.
“Piss off,” Nate snapped, trying to stand, but her legs wouldn’t hold her. “What’s going on? Is this some kind of flash mob? A prank? Where are the cameras?”.
“It’s a real-life RPG, love,” Lena smirked. “Your favourite genre, judging by your photos. Only now the monsters are real. And they really want to… touch you”.
“Do you… do you have a System?” Nate stared at Lena, then at Irina, who was still glowing. “Why do you have one and I don’t?! I’m… I’m more popular than the two of you put together!”.
“Maybe the System doesn't care for low-effort content?” Lena suggested. “I’ve got a combat symbiote because I obsessed over my costume. Irka has light magic because she was roleplaying a priestess. And what have you got? Knickers and plastic toy guns? There’s your result”.
“It’s not plastic! It’s a collector's edition! Three hundred dollars a pop!” Nate shook her useless weapons in despair.
“Could be a thousand for all I care. They don't shoot,” Lena turned to Irina. “Let’s go. We haven't got time for a chin-wag”.
“Are we just going to leave her?” Irina asked quietly.
“What are we supposed to do with her? She’s dead weight. Useless, screeching dead weight”.
“Oi! I can hear you!” Nate protested. “You can't just leave me! That’s… that’s failure to assist! I’ll report you!”.
At that moment, the floor beneath their feet shuddered. From somewhere below, out of a ventilation shaft in the corner of the dead end, came a low, guttural roar. The vent cover flew off like a champagne cork.
Out of the darkness, It appeared. It didn’t look like a zombie. It was a giant slug or amoeba made of translucent pinkish slime. Debris, bones, and… what looked like someone’s wigs were floating inside the mass.
Mini-Boss: Slime-Absorber (Lvl 4)
The creature slowly oozed out of the shaft, filling the passage. It reeked of acid and rot.
“Oh, a new one,” Lena tensed up. “Ir, get ready. This shite looks like it can take a beating”.
The slime, sensing prey, moved toward them with surprising speed, rolling in waves. Lena lunged forward, landing a probing blow with her blade. The blade entered the slime easily, but the wound healed instantly. The creature didn’t even notice the damage.
“Physical damage isn't doing squat!” Lena shouted, dodging a pseudopod thrown her way. Where the slime touched the floor, the concrete hissed and began to melt. “Ir, try magic!”.
“Holy Retribution!” Irina released a bolt of light. It slammed into the slime, making it hiss and shrink slightly.
The damage landed, but the boss's health bar barely budged.
“Not enough DPS!” Lena noted. She circled the creature, trying to find a weak spot, but there wasn’t one. It was just a mountain of aggressive jelly.
The slime ignored Lena, who was too fast for it, and crawled toward easy prey—toward Nate, who was still sitting in the corner, paralysed with terror.
“No… please… ugh!” Nate pressed herself against the wall. The pink mass was encroaching on her like a tsunami.
“Crap!” Lena realised she wouldn't make it in time. “Ir, shield on that idiot! Now!”.
Irina threw a shield over Nate at the last second. The slime slammed into the golden barrier, oozing around it on all sides. The shield began to crack under the acidic pressure.
“I can’t hold it for long! I’m running out of mana!” Irina shouted.
Lena rushed at the slime, hacking at it furiously from behind to draw its attention. She activated ‘Dual Blades,’ turning into a whirlwind of death. Black gunk flew everywhere, but the slime only regenerated and seemed to grow even angrier.
Nate sat inside the flickering dome, watching the pink death try to get close to her. She saw distorted faces floating inside the slime and could smell the rot. And she saw Lena and Irina trying to save her with everything they had. The very girls she had despised and laughed at.
Rage. A wild, primal fury flooded her. It wasn’t directed at the monster, but at herself. At her own helplessness. At the fact that she, Nate, the clout queen, was sat here in a puddle of her own piss (well, nearly) waiting to be rescued by a couple of cosplay also-rans.
"Stuff this for a game of soldiers!" she screamed, bolting to her feet inside the shield. "I’m Nate! I’m a star! I’m not kicking the bucket in this pile of snot!".
She thrust her useless, overpriced pistols forward, aiming them straight at the wobbling mass beyond the barrier.
"FIRE, YOU CHINESE BASTARDS! FIRE! THAT’S AN ORDER!".
Her hysteria hit fever pitch. And in that moment, something clicked—not in the pistols, but in the very air around her.
[Attention! Strong emotional resonance detected (Wrath/Hubris).] [Initialising System…] [Class Defined: Space Adventurer (Lvl 1)]
The pistols in her hands suddenly grew warm. The chrome details flared with a neon-blue light. The daft little bulbs stopped flickering and burned with a steady, predatory glow. She felt the weapons transform from mere bits of plastic and metal into extensions of her own arms. Irina’s shield finally shattered, and the slime surged inward.
Nate pulled the triggers. These weren't clicks. And they weren't the pathetic ‘pew-pew’ sounds of a child's toy. Two twin beams of concentrated plasma erupted from the barrels with a deafening roar like a fighter jet taking off. The recoil slammed Nate back against the wall, but she held her ground.
The plasma hit the slime point-blank. The effect was catastrophic. The pink mass didn't just sizzle; it evaporated instantly on impact. A hole half a metre wide appeared in the boss, through which the wall behind was clearly visible.
"BLOODY HELL!" Nate, absolutely floored by the result, pulled the triggers again.
Two more shots. Two more holes. The slime shrieked with a high-pitched ultrasonic squeal and began to thrash erratically, losing its form.
[Critical Damage! Boss Health: 40%]
"Yes! YES! Take that, you half-baked jelly!" Nate was in her element now.
She began firing without pause, turning the dead end into a scene straight out of Star Wars. Plasma bolts flew one after another, incinerating chunks of the monster.
"Eli, get down!" Irina shouted, dropping to the floor.
Lena hit the deck too, narrowly dodging a stray shot from Nate that melted a hole in a metal shelving unit right next to her head.
"This nutter’s going to kill us all!" Lena roared, glaring at the brand-new marksman.
Nate ignored everything but her target. She blasted the slime with maniacal persistence, laughing at the top of her lungs. Her pirate peacoat billowed from the energy exhaust, and her tricorne slipped to the side. Within a minute, it was all over. Nothing remained of the Slime-Absorber but a massive wet patch on the floor and a heap of ash.
Nate lowered the smoking pistols. Silence returned, broken only by heavy breathing and the crackle of the cooling weapons.
[Mini-Boss Defeated!] [Nate achieves Level 2!]
She slowly turned toward Lena and Irina, who were picking themselves up and dusting themselves off. A manic fire still burned in Nate’s eyes.
"Well then?" she said, blowing imaginary smoke from the barrel of a pistol (though the smoke was quite real). "Who’s the dead weight now?".
Lena looked at the holes in the walls, the remains of the boss, and the smirking Nate in her bikini.
"Right," Lena said, standing up and deactivating her blades. "I take it back. You aren't dead weight. You’re a walking artillery battery with a screw loose.".
She walked over to Nate and extended a hand.
"Welcome to hell, Piratey. Looks like we’re in the same boat now. But if you so much as think about shooting me in the back, I’ll slice you into ribbons faster than you can say ‘smash that subscribe button’.".
Nate hesitated for a second, then gave a crooked smirk and shook her hand—her palm was still hot from the weapons.
"Deal, Vector. But just so we're clear: the top-tier loot is all mine. Pirate’s code.".
"We’ll see about that," Lena snorted. "Ir, patch up our new friend. Let’s move before the noise draws in something bigger than this snot-heap.".