A narrow beam of burning water blasted a hole the size of my fist right through the Dweller’s emaciated torso. The creature let out a garbled squawk of surprise, then toppled over with one last feeble protest, “But you don’t have status…” With those final words the creature spasmed once then died in a puddle of gore and ichor. Very anticlimactic. The creature was so low level I didn’t even earn any experience points—though there were still Relics to be had, and I’d never pass up an opportunity for more Relics.

  “Timmy,” I barked at my newest Horror, “Post up at the end of the hall and make sure nothing comes at us from that elevator.”

  The hulking wendigo child moved to comply as silently as a wraith while I easily vaulted over the counter and looted the corpse.

  The Lounge Rep had three Relics and all of them were decent. The first was a Common-Grade called Priority Boarding, which increased attack speed by 20% during the first ten seconds of any new combat engagement. It wasn’t as good as something like Moving Walkway, which was a low-level version of Haste that could be triggered at any time, but Priority Boarding also happened to be a passive—meaning it automatically activated.

  The second, Blacklisted, was an Uncommon-grade that allowed the user to “mark a specific target,” increasing all damage to the “marked” target by 10% for one minute. The drawback was that while Blacklisted was activated, all damage dealt to “unmarked targets,” was reduced by 15% for the duration of the effect. Still, that could be incredibly valuable when fighting against a solo opponent or a more powerful Overseer. The last was a Rare-grade, and the best of the lot.

  Velvet Rope Barrier

  Rare Relic – Level 1

  Range: 25 Meters

  Cost: 25 Mana

  Duration: 20 Seconds

  Cooldown: 1 Minute

  Elegant, classy, sophisticated, and simple, the Velvet Rope Barrier has been segregating the beautiful, powerful, successful Haves from the ugly, poor, unfortunate Have-Nots for decades. Maybe even centuries. With a flick of the wrist, conjure a trio of luxurious yet unnervingly strong velvet ropes, which erupt from the floor and coil around your target—ensuring they know their places and stay in it, like the trash they are.

  These enchanted restraints immobilize the victim for up to 20 seconds, restricting their movement while allowing just enough room for futile struggle as they reflect on your undeniable superiority. Struggling against the Velvet Rope Barrier is not recommended, however, as every failed escape attempt causes the ropes to tighten, dealing 2 points of Ego Damage per second. The Velvet Rope Barrier cannot be dispelled by normal means, but VIP Access or a valid Reserve Card will immediately release the target—because, as always, status is everything.

  This Relic enables Mana usage.

  It was similar to several other crowd control abilities I’d seen, such as Jakob’s Quantum Entanglement or Temperance’s Puritanical Chains. It wasn’t powerful enough to add to my personal lineup, but I planned to hang onto it for later use. I stashed all three Relics in my Subspace Storage System, then tossed the Dweller’s body in as well. As much as I hated to admit it, with Eldritch Taxidermist as one of my cornerstone abilities, I was now firmly playing in the realm of Necromancy, which meant I needed to keep an eye out for potential material.

  With that done, we made our way past the reception area and into the lounge proper, though little Timmy waited behind, to ensure nothing flanked us from the rear.

  The first thing I noticed about the lounge itself was how perfect everything looked.

  Too perfect.

  The gleaming marble bar, the polished leather chairs, the sleek wood and metal finishes—it all looked pristine, untouched. Designed for travelers who had never used the place. I stepped inside, my footsteps muffled by thick, designer carpeting. The seating area was filled with high-backed booths, a variety of angular leather armchairs, and plenty of communal workspaces. But there were no people. Not a single traveler slumped over their laptop, no murmuring voices, no clinking glasses. It felt like a tomb, yet despite that I could feel eyes watching me from everywhere and nowhere.

  I’d experienced this same sensation before, back at the Tinytots Preschool.

  The bar along the far wall was fully stocked, bottles of top-shelf liquor glinting under warm pendant lights. The stools were neatly aligned, their backs perfectly parallel. I’d recently annexed a run-down loot arcade, and I couldn’t help but think that bar would make a great addition to the store. Hell, most of this place would, though I’d have to clean house first—

  The thought vanished when I caught a brief flash of movement in the corner of my eye. When I turned to see what it was, though, there was nothing but a row of lifeless televisions mounted to the wall.

  Nearby was a high-end buffet and a service kitchen. Platters of sandwiches, trays of sun-dried tomatoes, and a meticulous assortment of cheeses and crackers practically begged to be eaten. Like everything else in the lounge, the food looked fresh and delectable, even though there were no signs that anyone had ever touched it. No plates taken, no crumbs, no stray utensils or dirty glasses.

  All of that set off warning bells in my head.

  On the surface, this lounge looked inviting and safe.

  The kind of place a world-weary Delver could grab a bite to eat and a bit of shuteye for a few hours. Which is precisely how I knew it was a trap. The entire place was like some sort of giant, deep-sea Anglerfish—luring people in with its warm light before devouring them. And this place absolutely would devour them, because almost everything inside was a mimic. Thanks to their unique abilities, mimics didn’t appear as hostile creatures on my mini-map, but my Spelunker’s Sixth Sense marked each one of the shifty little bastards out.

  “We’ve got company,” I said softly, shooting Croc a quick look. “A lot of company.”

  “Yeah, that’s a mimic hatchery for you,” Croc replied in a mater-of-fact tone. “I grew up in a place a lot like this, though down on the third floor. It was a big, self-enclosed food court. Now that I think about it, that’s probably where my love for food came from. It’s all rooted in early childhood trauma.”

  “Just when I think I’ve got you figured out,” I said, stealing a glance at the dog, “you say something that makes me realize you have layers.”

  “Like an onion?”

  “Yep, just like a big blue, rubbery meat onion. One filled with teeth and tentacles. Now, if we’re done getting in touch with our emotions, what do you say we kick the ant hill and see what shakes loose?”

  Croc’s form blurred as the dog burbled up and out, expanding until it was the size of a grizzly bear. Its teeth and fangs were made from razor-sharp steel and a huge maw, studded with more steel teeth, split the mimic vertically from groin to neck. A forest of lashing tentacles, covered with circular suction cups and hooked claws emerged from the huge mouth and undulated in the air like probing fingers.

  With Croc ready to rock and roll, I activated my most powerful Area of Effect ability, StainSlayer Maelstrom. Mana erupted from my core and angry blue clouds formed overhead, swirling and churning for a few seconds before unleashing a torrent of electric blue rain that smelled like concentrated toilet bowl cleaner—which was damn close to the truth.

  Powerful super-bleach rained down over a huge swath of the seating area and splashed across the bar and the upscale buffet. The food was ruined, but that was okay because it wasn’t really food in the first place. One of the silver trays, loaded down with finger sandwiches, sprouted arachnoid legs and split down the center, revealing a yawning mouth filled with inch long teeth and a lashing tongue. Basically, a miniature sandwich-version of Croc.

  Dweller 0.472C – Hatchling Mimic [Level 2]

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The most basic of all mimics, a Hatchling is nothing more than teeth, hunger, and blind instinct crammed into a single, fleshy disguise. Too young to think, reason, or shapeshift beyond its one pre-selected form, it simply lurks, waits, and bites the absolute shit out of anything dumb enough to get too close. It has no strategy, no patience, just an animalistic need to feed and grow.

  Hatchlings are easy to kill but hard to spot, because while they may be brainless, they instinctively know how to hide. An unattended backpack, a baby stroller, a simple lounge chair. You’ll only recognize the danger after it’s already gnawing on your face. Because it is all aggression with no true sense of self-preservation, if you get in a fight with a Hatchling, it’ll keep on attacking until either you die or it does.

  Once again, Croc had been right on the money. A baby mimic. And it wasn’t alone.

  Food platers, chairs, tables, and countless other accessories abruptly sprouted tentacle legs and slathering mouths. They never stood a chance, though. It was a massacre. Most were only level 1 or 2. I was pretty sure I could kill these things with a rolled-up newspaper. The bleach storm tore through their ranks like a tornado in a trailer park. Only those mimics on the periphery of the attack survived the initial onslaught.

  Croc, Synthia, and Drumbo all charged into the chaotic bloodbath, finishing the others off with indiscriminate brutality.

  Synthia charbroiled mimics left and right.

  Drumbo cut them down with conjured wind blades, turned them into meat confetti with his angle grinder attachment, or pummeled them into mushy piles of pulp with his gauntlet.

  Croc simply ripped them apart with his tentacles.

  Between the Bleach storm and my minions, there really wasn’t all that much for me to do. Using Psychic Sovereignty, I plucked the tools from my toolbelt and sent them whirling off into battle, just because. I also decided to test out one of the newer Artifacts I’d picked up on the 24th floor, the Bowling Ball of Rolling Momentum. It was a Rare-grade item that gained additional kinetic force the longer it stayed in motion. Using a thread of psychic energy, I set the ball spinning around me for a handful of seconds before launching it directly into the mass of hatchlings.

  I almost felt bad as I smashed a feral chair so hard it literally exploded like a meat pinata.

  Then I thought about Fenrir and the others who were still missing. Sure, these little monsters were basically harmless to me and Croc, but against a bunch of level ten or fifteen Delvers?

  This place would be a death trap. A nasty one.

  My face hardened. Fuck all these little monsters.

  I cast another round of StainSlayer Maelstrom when the first spell guttered and died, and I didn’t even need to worry about the fact that Croc and my minions were still in range. Thanks to some new upgrades to the Relic, it no longer dealt damage to friendlies inside the “Splash Zone.” I could even use a new secondary ability called pH Balance to convert a portion of the damage StainSlayer Maelstrom dealt into Health for any allies inside the AoE.

  After only a few minutes, there was nothing left but oozing corpses.

  With a heavy sigh, I recalled my tools, letting them orbit around me in a slow arc, and summoned my new helper minions.

  More black portals split the air, disgorging three small gremlin-like creatures, each only four feet tall, with the slick, furry heads of rats. Mall Rats, to be precise. I’d slaughtered a whole bunch of these things on the third floor during another search and rescue mission and had collected their corpses on a whim. Although they were far too weak to be effective in battle, they were small, nimble, cunning, and knew how to follow orders. Even after all my tinkering, each was still only level ten, but they made for a fantastic cleanup crew.

  The rats all had a large hiking pack strapped to their backs, and a smaller pack strapped to their chest.

  “You know what to do,” I said, waving the rats toward the bodies. One rat, slightly larger and broader across the shoulders, chittered an inarticulate response. That was King Rat, the head of the Rat Pack. He was a devious little shit and commanded a certain respect from the rest of his vermin brothers and sisters. “I want ’em looted, then salvage any of the parts that are still usable.” I paused, idly tracing a finger along the head of my hammer. “Oh, and make sure to cut out all the Mimicore Nodes you can. Can never have enough of those.”

  The Rats immediately went to work, raiding Spatial Cores, depositing Relics in their packs, then sorting the bodies. Usable body parts went in one pile, and those eradicated beyond repair went into another. The rats were a godsend. Quick and efficient, plus I could avoid getting splattered with gore which was a nice change of pace. In hindsight, I realized that I should’ve had clean-up minions from the get-go—though better late than never.

  “I don’t see any sign of Fenrir or the others?” I said, glancing around the gory room.

  “The young ones don’t always eat ’em,” Croc replied, though the dog-bear didn’t sound especially hopeful. “Sometimes, they’ll keep live prey entombed and suspended for the Brood Matriarch.” Croc paused, as though deciding whether to say more. “Though that’s the best-case scenario,” it finally finished.

  “And the worst-case scenario?” I asked.

  “I already told you,” Croc replied sheepishly, “fleshy skin sacks, sucked empty like juice boxes. If we keep pushing, that’s probably what we’re going to find,” the dog added gently. “Are you sure you want to do that? I’ve lost a lot of Delvers, and those deaths have a way of sticking with you. Death and physical dismemberment aren’t the only dangers here in the Backrooms, Dan. Stick around long enough and the mental trauma can break you just as easily. Might be better to just turn around now before you see something you can’t unsee.”

  I grimaced, then patted Croc on the shoulder. “I appreciate the concern, but we can’t leave ’em here. Even if they are dead, we’re going to make sure every single mimic in this nest pays for it.”

  Croc offered me a concerned look. “That’s a slippery road too, Dan. Vengeance, I mean.”

  “Don’t worry, bud,” I said, before turning my back on the dog, “I’m not going to let this place turn me into a monster, no matter how hard it tries to.” I cast Unerring Arrow and watched the beam race away, zig-zagging through tables and dismembered bodies, before veering sharply left and disappearing up a set of stairs that connected to a second floor. “Looks like we’re headed up there,” I said, nodding to the stairs.

  While the Rat Pack continued to work on the massacre below, Croc and I headed up the stairs with Synthia and Drumbo in tow, ready for more mimics to descend on us at any moment.

  The staircase led to another reception area, this one unmanned.

  The Spa by Apex – For the Elite of the Elite.

  The waiting room was dominated by soft lighting, the scent of eucalyptus and warm cedar, and a quiet so absolute it almost hummed. Another sleek desk welcomed us, its polished wood blending seamlessly with the slated walls behind it. There were a pair of receiving benches, both upholstered in muted gray, and a carefully arranged retail display, showcasing shelves of neatly stacked skincare products, bath oils, and linen-wrapped towels. Interestingly, there was also an ATM tucked away in the corner.

  A Progenitor Monolith—though I left that alone for the time being.

  The spa exuded a sense of effortless elegance and comfort. It was an oasis of luxury in the middle of a metal and concrete desert, filled with untold dangers. Thanks to my insanely high Grit score, it wasn’t hard to feel the gentle magic tugging at the edges of my thoughts. Calling me onward. Come, it seemed to whisper, there is safety here. Peace and comfort. No more pain. No more worries. Just rest. Sweet, blissful, endless rest. It was a subtle compulsion, not so different from the aura abilities the kiosk Sales Sirens used to lure in their victims.

  Croc was currently at level 26, so I wasn’t really worried about the mimic, but my Horrors didn’t have the same mental protections, and I didn’t like the idea of losing control of them in the middle of a pitched battle. There were ways to fix that, though. With a slight effort of will, I triggered one of my newest Relics.

  Echoed Aura

  Fabled Relic (Fully Tempered) – Level 6

  Range: Line of sight

  Area of Effect: 15' Radius, Centered on Caster

  Cost: 50 Mana (Base)*

  Cast time: Instant

  Effect Duration: 10 Minutes

  Echoed Aura embodies the motto “Sharing is Caring.” On its own, it doesn’t do jack shit, but when activated, it temporarily transforms the effects of another equipped Relic in your Spatial Core into a projected aura. Depending on your modality, the aura can either help your friends or metaphorically fuck your enemies. Unless, of course, you have the fabled Green Weenie Relic—then it will literally fuck your enemies.

  Group Love Mode

  Activate Group Love Mode, and the positive effects of a single equipped Relic expand outward from you in a fifteen-foot radius, spreading similar beneficial buffs to you and all your allies within range. Keep in mind, the better your paired Relic, the more impressive the glow up.

  Group Punishment Mode

  Feeling less charitable and more like a petty, vindictive bitch? Flip the switch to Group Punishment Mode, and the negative effects of a single equipped Relic ripple out in a fifteen-foot radius, hammering every enemy in range with similar misery. Again, the quality of your paired Relic determines the scale of destruction—so make sure to bring your A game if you want to leave a lasting impression.

  Note: You can only have one Aura active at a time.

  *The casting cost of the paired Relic gets tacked onto the total cost for Echoed Aura.

  This Relic enables Mana usage.

  Echoed Aura didn’t really do anything by itself, but its real power was in its sheer versatility. Instinctively, I “paired” Echoed Aura with another of my active abilities, Existential Dread. Dual strands of mana braided together, changing in the process, before finally rippling outward in a ring of darkened energy.

  Existential Dread (Group Love Aura): Gain +5 Grit and +15% resistance to direct psychic attacks while within range of this Aura.

  I couldn’t help but grin.

  On its own, Existential Dread was a purely offensive Relic, which could potentially immobilize enemies for 30 seconds as they were forced to grapple with debilitating thoughts of their own mortality. When used in “Group Love Mode,” however, Existential Dread produced the exact opposite effect, fortifying anyone who I considered to be an ally against mind-fuckery. And after spending so much time down on the 24th floor, there was nothing I hated more than mind-fuckery.

  The damage mental spells could do was unparalleled.

  “Something’s about to have a really bad day,” I growled as I tromped into the spa, leaving bloody footprints in my wake.