Today's Earth date: January 15, 1992

Counting the prisoners, forty three people died in the fighting pits yesterday. Instead of blaming Horcus for being careless, the city is coming down on the promoter for not protecting spectators well enough.

And you know what else? Horcus mentioned he wanted to make money when he was being questioned, so we actually got an additional stipend so we "don't have to worry about trivial things."

Wilmond already put his share away for after this is over. He pointed out that we don't really need to spend our money if we don't want to. So, I'm going to follow his lead and live off of everyone who wants to feed and house us for free so that by the end of this I can be richer than God.

I bet she would like an easy life like that.

-The Journal of Laszlo the Paladin

Random.

Song: Sumarmørgon

Artist: Written by Eivind Groven, Performed by Knut & Ole Aastad Bråten

Album: [Single]

Genre: Halling

A somber tone playing on a stringed instrument came to life around Wayne. Each pluck had the hum of a guitar string but was accompanied by a soft tinkle, creating a track that felt eastern European, perhaps. The closest comparison Wayne could think of was music from The Witcher III.

Which he quite liked. So he left the track playing as he raced through empty basement floors as quickly as he could.

Thanks to Blitz, Wayne could cross an empty floor in less than a minute, and every level he saw below B21 was just as empty as the last. Aside from the occasional pile of rubble or garbage, such as more broken tablets or cots with cracked frames, there was nothing to see, but he still burned time making sure he didn't miss something.

About an hour later, he arrived at B50. Though this floor was bare, the floor was chalked as if in preparation for future construction, denoting the locations of walls and doorways. This floor had the highest ceiling of them all and had a large central chamber as its primary feature. To Wayne, it looked like a boss room, appropriately sized for the final boss of a dungeon with 100 total floors.

Scouting ahead alone had been the right choice, but he wasn't looking forward to the next step of the plan.

"Is anyone awake?"

"Are you okay?" Fergus asked, replying immediately.

"I'm at the bottom. I don't know if it will work at this distance, but I'm going to switch places with Margo. Warn her, and make sure she has a piece of chalk on her. And please ask Armond to have a healing spell ready for me."

Ten minutes or so later, Fergus said, "Margo and Armond ready."

Wayne took a deep breath.

Sak.

-202 hit points.

Wayne appeared beside the party, overwhelmed by the pain wracking the whole of his body. He was 72 hitpoints away from dying, but he felt every point of that massive drop all at once.

Armond healed him right away, needing several casts to get Wayne close to topped-off. He paused to let his mana replenish.

"Found a hatch," Margo reported. "I think I did, I mean. It's larger than the others. Chalking it now." A few minutes later, she asked, "Done. What's next?"

"We're going to switch again."

Wayne triple-checked his system windows to be sure he had enough hit points to spare. Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes.

Sak.

-202 hit points.

He dug a Greater Healing potion from a pouch on his belt and pressed the vial to his lips with shaking hands. When his heartbeat slowed, he collected himself and turned his attention to the dwarvish Margo had chalked out for him.

Having seen these symbols so many times before, he quickly tapped each in the correct sequence. Instead of opening the usual one-man hatch, two pieces of the floor flipped back, leaving an open square large enough for four Outlawsons.

As he dropped down to explore, he updated his party about what he saw with Voice.

Of all the basement cube chambers the party had discovered, this was the largest by far. Instead of one room with a dozen pedestals or so for Diagnostic Cubes, Wayne stood on a walkway that crisscrossed over top of forty Spawners–larger cubes composed of smaller Diagnostic Cubes, like he had found in the weresnail lair.

Those forty units were in four rows of twelve, with two additional units on the walkway level. Both of those Spawners had a face saying that Forgemaster Access Only was active.

The walls in this room were etched with the ancient dwarvish text Wayne had observed in other dungeons. Instead of writing it all down–because he still couldn't translate it–Wayne recorded the room with Replay Camera and continued his search.

Down a set of stairs, Wayne found a second floor laid out like the one above–walkways, rows of Spawners, but found three Spawners at walkway level instead of two. Like the floor above, two of the Spawners were set to Forgemaster Access Only. The third Spawner was set to Forgemaster Access Only on its topside face, but the rest of the Spawner was empty, having four empty slots where four Diagnostic Cubes could fit.

One such cube sat on the ground nearby and had only one etched face that read:

B-Light Region Override: Were-Affliction

Wayne was glad to see that cube completely disconnected, and it lent more weight to the theory that the Ocean under the Moon plotline leaned heavily on were-virus tropes.

The Lighthouse dungeon, all one hundred floors of it, had been a large, complicated undertaking. It was by far the largest dungeon Wayne had seen yet, and he was grateful it amounted to what would be called "cut content" were this a video game. A one hundred floor maze with progressively more powerful encounters but little else?

Ick.

Those runs were less about skill and more about raw endurance. Tactics Ogre and Lufia II: Rise of the Sinistrals had optional dungeons with one hundred floors each. Wayne completed both of them, and he regretted the effort in both cases. The unforgiving monotony wasn't worth the rewards, especially in end-game contexts where his characters were already unstoppable.

"If the rats are looting ruins for monster parts, they haven't been here," Wayne reported, finding no signs that anyone had visited this area after the dwarves locked it up. Ratmen hadn't tunneled in, and nothing appeared to be disturbed.

That was a relief in the sense that Wayne was glad his whole party didn't have to hike down fifty floors, but that relief didn't outweigh the implication: the rats were sourcing their monster parts from somewhere else, and his party had no leads as to where that might be.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Not knowing the whereabouts of a growing ratman army was a problem, but the adventure hadn't been fruitless. The Zeroes now had a theory they could support with evidence. They couldn't yet account for every blind spot or tie Targitaus to wrongdoing, but they had enough proof of ratmen using dwarf tech to bring this to the leadership of Iomallach.

The meeting that followed the Lighthouse run began much the same as the meeting Wayne and Fergus had in Cuan, where they updated the Royal Library and Cuan's Governor about their dungeon findings and concerns.

The Head of Operations for the Royal Library chapter in Iomallach was present. The governor's office was represented by two people, an interim governor and the head of Iomallach's defense force, General Poltur. Other than to greet the Zeroes, she didn't say anything else.

The similarities between the meetings ended when Wayne and Fergus completed their presentation. Where Cuan's leadership immediately discussed solutions for potential threats, the scholar and the interim governor in Iomallach were unconvinced. They seemed especially bothered by the accusation that a respected businessman like Targitaus could be in league with ratmen.

By the time the meeting concluded, Wayne and Fergus both felt they had actually lost ground for their cause. The people in charge knew about their work now, and they were unsupportive. Operating in secret offered far more freedom than being watched closely by government officials.

Wayne and Fergus paused outside of city hall, sticking to the shade as they debated what to do next.

That debate got as far as "we should have lunch" when a member of the town guard approached. His eyes darted around as if he had concerns of being surveiled.

"Follow me, please," he said softly and began walking.

They eventually arrived at a pub several blocks away from the city center. It was a dive bar, more or less. The one patron and lone bartender nodded at the guard when they entered but didn't speak otherwise.

The guard opened a door to a backroom, a private space that looked like it could be rented out for gatherings and parties. It had two doors–the one they just went through and another at the back.

"Please wait here," the guard said. "General Poltur would like to speak with you and thanks you for your discretion."

"We're not under arrest?" Fergus asked.

"No."

"Can we have a drink while we wait?"

The guard stared quietly at Fergus for a long time. He seemed unprepared for a question like that. "I'll send someone in," he said, finally.

Nearly an hour and an empty bottle of wine later, General Poltur entered through the backdoor.

She took a seat at the head of the table and laid her sword and sheath in front of her. "Before we begin, do we all agree that this conversation did not happen?"

"We are professionals, General," Fergus said. "Sensitive information is a regular part of our work."

"Targitaus has been a problem for a long time," she said. "I wasn't entirely surprised to hear his name in that meeting."

"Entirely?"

"I'm surprised anyone would trade with ratmen."

"Fair," Fergus agreed.

"Can you explain to me how you can identify anatomy taken from demons?"

"Right into it then," Fergus said, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. "We have an expert of demonology on staff with a proprietary technique."

Wayne liked how Fergus navigated that topic. He wasn't sure he would have managed those waters as smoothly as Fergus did.

"Proprietary?"

"Yes, trade secret."

"I know what the word means."

"Right."

Poltur stayed silent for a moment. "Do you have any doubts about Three Deaths being made with demon flesh?"

"None."

"Is the Zero Hero no longer speaking?"

Wayne laughed. "Fergus is a better speaker than I am. We're on the same page for all of this."

The General nodded. "Are the rats capable of making more monsters like that?"

"There's no reason to think they wouldn't be."

"How do you account for most of them being ratmen instead of giant monsters like Three Deaths?"

Wayne and Fergus exchanged glances.

"Our working theory comes down to materials," Fergus answered. "They have no shortage of rats, so that's what they use most often. They've tried making them more deadly without additions, but those didn't work well. It looks like reforging demons is better for making stronger rats, but there just isn't a lot of demon material available."

"Which is why they're searching dwarven ruins."

"Correct."

Poltur waited to speak, as if she was unsure about sharing the thoughts in her mind. "We don't have proof that Targitaus is in league with the rats, but we do have something you both should see."

Wayne and Fergus followed General Poltur out the back door of the tavern to a guard station well away from Iomallach's most traveled roads. It looked shuttered. The windows were boarded over, as was the main door. Dirty words and lewd drawings were etched into any wood or stone within arm's reach. And the rest of the street was in a similar state.

Poltur led them into a building adjacent to the guard station, unlocked a monstrously sized padlock, and ushered the Zeroes inside.

Having only ever seen one in spy movies, Wayne wasn't sure he was correct, but this felt like a black site, an off the books hideout intended for legally dubious government activities.

Like detaining a prisoner afflicted with an unknown but alarming condition.

"We've seen him before," Wayne said, looking through the bars. "He was with Targitaus at the arena."

The man in the cell was undoubtedly accompanying Targitaus during their tour of the arena, but he was in a much better state then. The young, vaguely threatening sidekick slumped on a wooden bench in the corner. His eyes were open, and Wayne could see that he was breathing, but he didn't seem aware of anything happening around him.

The prisoner's right arm and right leg flickered and flashed like they were glitched. Broken graphics, static, and two-dimensional renderings of the limbs blinked in and out with no apparent pattern or set frequency. The visuals felt very much like what Wayne saw when the ratman fleshmancer bit him back in Asplugha.

"Four of my men followed him and one other into the Cuts," Poltur said. "They're part of an extortion ring we've been trying to break up. This next piece is harder to explain, but there's a part of the jungle with… a strange reputation."

"The Dead Zone," Fergus said.

Poltur cocked her head. "You know it?"

"We spent a night in Mudsville. We learned of it there."

Poltur nodded, approvingly. "I try to hire from Mudsville as often as I can. No one's better at running the Cuts, but yes, both of Targitaus' men went into the Dead Zone. My people knew better and grabbed this one when he came back out."

"What's wrong with him?" Fergus asked.

"You two are supposed to tell me."

"These look like Diary errors," Wayne said. "Mine has similar artifacts."

"Several Scholars have theorized that everyone in the world is connected to the Diary of the Gods but only the Chosen Heroes can view it," Fergus added. "If that's true, it would stand to reason anyone could glitch."

"Is this proof Targitaus is working with the rats?" Poltur asked.

Both of the Royal Scholars shook their heads.

"It suggests they could be, but it's not definitive by any stretch," Fergus answered. "Has he said anything?"

"He refuses to speak. Honor among thieves and such."

Wayne approached the bars. "Did you hear me say I have Diary access?" he asked the prisoner. "I've seen the glitches myself. My whole party has. Maybe we can help you."

For the first time, the prisoner's eyes moved. They rolled to look at Wayne. "How?"

"Yeah, Wayne," Fergus said in Wayne's mind, "how would we do that?"

Goods Storage.

Wayne stepped into the storage unit and emerged with the hammer his party looted from the Asplugha dungeon. "This is called a Forgemaster Hammer, and we believe it's what the rats use to make abominations. The thing is, all of the creatures the dwarves made with this functioned perfectly fine."

"So?"

"There's a chance it could be used to fix you."

"Wayne…"

"It's a long shot," Wayne said, "but if we can learn more about how the rats are using these tools, we could learn something that helps you."

"Some offer," the man said. His eyes lulled back to staring blankly at the prison wall.

"Do you have a better offer we don't know about?" When the man didn't answer, Wayne continued, "I'm serious about trying to help, and your only other option is dying like this. Definitely dying and maybe not dying are two very different choices."

"You'll really try?"

"My best," Wayne promised.

"There's a tunnel under the ranch. The rats dug it."

"Thank you," Wayne said. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

When the door to the jail area was closed, Fergus grabbed Wayne and pulled him aside. "What was that?" he asked.

"What was what?"

"We can't promise something like that. We're not fleshmancers, and figuring out how to become fleshmancers is an ethical quagmire."

"I don't intend to use any of our Forgemaster tools on people."

"So what? You lied to him?"

"I was sincere," Wayne said. "I genuinely believe his glitch condition is connected to fleshmancy and the system somehow. Will I spin up my own lab and start experimenting on people with dwarf tools? No, but if we learn something that can help him, we'll help him."

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