by Neven Iliev
“AAAAAAAAHHH!”
Brought face to face with a man-eating monster with nothing between them, she had no choice but to scream and crawl away backwards. Every fibre of her being told her she was about to be eaten ... except for one: her logical mind and observant nature. The same things that arguably got her into this mess in the first place.
“Haah, haah, haah,” she panted, taking in her surroundings. “You … didn’t eat me? We’re outside? And my cuffs are – You freed me?”
A woman’s pale-skinned head appeared in front of her.
“Yes,” it said simply.
“Why? How? What?”
“Art fisher. Teach.”
“…”
Right. It wanted something from her. What other reason could it possibly have for letting her live?
“And … Will you eat me after I teach you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Not tasty.”
“…”
“Also, good teacher. Smart. Liar and betrayer, but good teacher. Therefore – teach, and will not eat.”
Her life did not seem to be in immediate danger and would likely remain that way so long as she was useful to this animate box with teeth.
“Wh-what about after I’m done teaching you all I can? You’ll kill and eat me then, right?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Need you.”
“You … what? You? Need me?”
“Yes.”
“What for!”
“For stuff. And things.”
“And you’re willing to trust me? After all I did to you?”
“No trust. You liar and betrayer. But machines don’t lie. They’re tasty. Not like you.”
“…”
She stared dumbly at the pale head that bore a stupid, loopy smile. ‘Machines don’t lie.’ The wording was a bit different, but that phrase was originally the same one her father liked to say. ‘Machines had no sin.’ That was what he used to say.
“I must be out of my mind,” she mumbled as she hugged her knees.
Maybe it was that accidental line. Maybe it was the thought that this thing had somehow avenged her brother and father. Or maybe it was the fact that, like it or not, this creature in front of her was the only one in the world she could turn to right now. Whatever the cause, she just couldn’t help but chase away the insane thought that maybe, just maybe, partnering up with this thing might work out somehow.
“Alright. I’ll teach you.”
No matter how much she debated the matter though, what choice did she really have? She would either be useful or get eaten. That was her world right now, and she would rather try to avoid the latter.
“Good,” said Boxxy with an even wider smile.
*Clap*
*Clap*
*Clap*
A sharp, loud noise repeated itself slowly for a total of three times. It seemed to pour in from all sides at once.
“Well done! Good show!”
*Clap*
*Clap*
*Clap*
In the next instant, Fizzy and Boxxy both found themselves seated next to each other at a large square dining table instead of on the forest floor. The table had dozens of plates with all manner of things, although none of those seemed to be food. A tiny stone bridge, a human kidney, a small leather bag, a hammer, a guitar, a legless fox, and a small key-shaped lump of mud were a few of the random objects gathered. The scenery beyond the table was a huge white space that seemed to go on forever, completely different from the dark and dreary woods they were in just seconds ago.
And sitting opposite them was a moustached dandy-looking old man in a black suit and a top hat.
“Forgive the sudden intrusion,” he said with a youthful voice that did not match his apparent age. “But I simply had to congratulate you. That escape was a truly marvellous performance.”
“What?” blurted out Fizzy.
She blinked in surprise, only to realise the man sitting at the table was now a purple goat with a tiny rowboat for a head.
“WHAT?”
She blinked again, and the goat turned into a floating kettle. The next time, the entity became a lizardman with a Mohawk and dark glasses on his snout. She blinked once more only to see a green-skinned woman in an evening gown and no face.
She was speechless.
The thing in front of her took a different shape every time her eyelids covered her sight for a tiny instant. She looked at Boxxy as if asking for help, but the Mimic in question had already retreated inside its not-actually-wooden shell and was currently chesting with all its might.
“I think I’ve finally gone nuts,” Fizzy said uncertainly.
“Nah, you’re probably fine,” said the breakdancing gecko. “It’s just that you mortals have difficulty perceiving me. Even the other Gods have difficulty maintaining eye contact sometimes.”
“Mortals? Other Gods?”
“Oh, my apologies!” exclaimed the inside-out sock. “I know you two as the illustrious Mister – is it ‘Mister?’ Let’s go with ‘Mister.’ Ahem! As the illustrious Mister Boxxy T. Morningwood and the lovely Miss Cornie Fizzlesprocket ... but neither of you have any idea who I am! In that case, allow me to introduce myself.”
The bare-bones skeleton stood up and took off its wings as if they were a book.
“My name is Bob, the God of Chaos.”
The inside-out elephant then sat back down on its nails and let a fish float onto his foot.
“And I have called you two here to make an offer you will most likely not refuse.”
Part Six
“Wait, hold on a minute!” screamed Fizzy. “There’s no such thing as a God of Probability!”
“Now that’s just supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!” screamed Joseph.
“ … Whu-what?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” apologized Mulder. “I thought we were playing my favourite game: ‘Scream random things that make no sense!’ Fair warning though – I’m the reigning world champ!”
“I was doing no such thing!”
“Yes you were. I assure you that the God of Chance is not only quite real but that he’s also sitting right in front of you.”
“Then prove it!” the gnome insisted.
“Try and say my name three times in a row.”
“Tyrone, Jose, Amy. Now wh–”
She froze mid-sentence. The gnome was sure she was saying Delilah’s name right, but it always came out differently. Even thinking back on it, she was certain she was referring to the same entity, despite that making no logical sense.
“Not convinced!” she insisted. “The only thing you’ve proven is that you can mess with me, but that doesn’t mean you’re some rogue deity! I won’t be fooled by some stupid illusions! I mean, I’ve never even heard mention of a God of Uncertainty!”
The same oddity seemed to apply to his title, too. Just now, she unintentionally called him the ‘Goddess of Luck,’ not the ‘God of Randomness’ as he introduced himself just moments ago.
Daniel smiled back at her from his brick.
“Just because you haven’t heard of me doesn’t mean I don’t exist. Just like syphilis. Or the brain-sucking aliens from Ulk’Narob. I assure you not only am I real, but I’m perfectly capable of wrecking your shit with barely even a thought if you don’t watch your mouth. Like so.”
*Snap*
Linda snapped her trees, causing the gnome’s head and neck to disappear, leaving behind nothing but smooth skin between her shoulders. Her arms immediately went to grab her missing appendage but failed miserably. It was as if it had never been there to begin with. Her headless body then started squirming and flailing around, completely unable to deal with the situation.
*Snap*
Her head popped up from between her shoulders like it was a jack-in-the-box.
“Aaarh! Haah, haah, haah!” she panted.
“Are we clear, young Fizzlesprocket?”
“Haah, haah. Yes, crystal clear. Mister Goddess of Chance, sir.”
“Much better. Now then, Boxxy. Ah, now that we’re face-to-face, this is awkward. Talking to a chest like this is pretty weird.”
The gnome nearly made a comment about how hypocritical that sounded coming from a basket with legs but held it back.
“Here, let’s try this!”
*Snap*
A finger-snap was heard. The chest next to Fizzy flickered out of existence and a small naked child appeared in its place. It had brown skin, snow-white hair, red eyes, and looked about six or seven years old. The face was oddly androgynous, making it hard to tell if the child was male or female, but it was undeniably cute. It was smiling a sweet, innocent smile and had a thoroughly vacant look in its eyes.
“How’s that?” asked Kerry.
The child blinked a few times and stared at its fingers, then its lower body. Fizzy followed its gaze and ended up staring at its crotch almost involuntarily. She almost turned her face away in shame but realised that would be a pointless gesture. After all, the child had nothing between its legs but smooth skin, which was to be expected of a genderless creature.
“Feels weird,” said Boxxy with a fittingly neutral voice.
“Well, it’s only temporary, so please bear with it.”
“Okay.”
“B-Boxxy?” stammered the gnome. “Is that you?”
“Yes,” answered the child matter-of-factly.
She turned around to stare at the God of Anarchy with accusatory eyes.
“Ah, this is simply what the Mimic would look like if it were human,” explained Estel. “This is merely an image I dredged up from its subconscious, so don’t look at me like that, okay? I swear I’m not into naked little kids or anything, alright! I’m a firm believer in the glory of large chests!”
Kishralbadaz the Inheritor stifled a giggle at her own bad pun. She then leaned forward, put her salamis on the table and looked right at the Mimic. Which was impressive considering she had three-and-a-half heads and snowballs for eyes.
“Anyway, now that that’s over with I can finally have a proper chat you.”
“You know me?” asked Boxxy.
“Oh yes. Better than you might think. This isn’t the first time we’ve spoken, you know.”
“It’s not?”
The Mimic was sure it would remember meeting something bizarre like Russel.
“Hmm, technically speaking, I was the only one doing the talking at the time, so calling it a conversation would be hard. I also said some hurtful things, but I hope you’ll forgive me. I get just a little bit ABSOLUTELY LIVID when some random box tries to steal my dungeon core for no good reason.”
“ … Oh.”
So the mysterious and slightly annoying entity behind that dungeon core had finally revealed itself.
“And sorry for trying to blow you up like that. It was uncalled for and totally my bad. Unexpected, as well. I was so certain you would just leave the core behind when you found out it was going to go, but it appears I miscalculated.”
“It’s okay. Got many tasty Levels.”
“Hahaha, that you did. I must say, you genuinely surprised me that day. Not everyone would be willing to blow up an entire city if the opportunity presented itself.”
“Blow up a city?” Fizzy butted in. “You’re telling me this thing really did cause that Calamity?”
“Uhm … Yes and no. It’s complicated.”
“And you don’t mind?”
“Why would I?”
“Don’t you care that so many people died!”
“Do you?”
“Of course I do!”
“Really? Then I suppose you mourned and prayed for every last one of those 8,235 souls?”
“Err … ”
“You only selfishly mourned your own father and brother, did you not? You’d probably put the incident completely out of your tiny mind if those two weren’t tangentially involved.”
“…”
Jack was right on the money. Even though Fizzy understood it was, objectively speaking, a horrible tragedy, she just couldn’t bring herself to truly care about some humans being killed off somewhere. They were, after all, not her people.
“Now, do you have any more inane questions?”
“ … Just one. Why does this thing get to meet an actual god face-to-signpost? What’s so special about it?”
“It’s consistently unpredictable, even before the big bada-boom. I actually went and reviewed the dungeon’s logs and found them to be quite entertaining. Here, let me give you some examples.”
The flagpole pulled out a small booklet and opened it to a bookmarked page.
“This thing survived its first two weeks in this world through a mixture of luck and ability. It took all chances that the flows of chaos presented it with and, for better or for worse, latched onto them with all its might without any hesitation. I respect that sort of thing, you know. A chance exists to be taken, after all.”
The three-eyed fork turned the page on the pamphlet it was holding in its bottles.
“It then absorbed the Warlock Job from a corpse. You know what the odds of it succeeding at that were? Four thousand to one! And it managed to pull it off on only the third try! Well, its current chance of succeeding at that same outcome is closer to about four hundred to one, but that’s beside the point.”
She turned the pigeon upside down.
“And that magnificent stroke of good fortune happened right after it broke out of the dungeon through what I can only describe as dumb luck and a total fluke. I can’t say that failed to impress me. Then it sort of did its own thing outside the dungeon for a bit, fought some adventurers, ate some people, yadda yadda yadda. Oh – here’s a good one: It gibbed a dwarf just as she was teleporting away with a Portal Key! Her friends’ reactions when they saw a pair of disembodied legs appear out of thin air was really something else, let me tell ya!”
Lawrence rolled up the parchment and put it away inside his igloo.
“So that’s roughly the time when I started keeping an eye on it, mostly through those two familiars. And here’s the really amazing part: I realised that I’d actually been sort of introduced to it before that Calamity stuff even happened! This thing right here somehow managed to forward me its Status when making a demonic contract! Do you know how many times that has happened!”
“I don’t –”
“Never! It has never, ever happened! I have absolutely no idea how the fuck it actually did that, either!”
“I did?” Boxxy said with a stupid look on its face.
“Uh, yeah?” said Nick. “Oh right – you wouldn’t know, but I’m actually Katorolomaongott’s boss.”
“Who?”
“Uhm… I believe he introduces himself as Carl to mortals.”
“You know Carl?”
“Well, I don’t really ‘know’ the guy, he just works for me. All demons do, technically speaking. Even the Demon King, though he’s more widely known as Overlord of the Infinite Abyss.”
“Overlord? Like Punchy?”
“More or less. Him too, by the way. You know, I was the one who created them. Demons, I mean. Completely by accident, too. It started as a little experiment that went really out of control, you see. And the result was a selfish, uncooperative bunch that don’t give a flying fuck about mortals. Those kids – I’m so proud of them! Ah, forgive me. I don’t often get to brag so I got a little sidetracked.”
Frank reigned in his enthusiasm and proceeded with the meat of the matter.
“Point is, I wasn’t actually planning on making an appearance at all. Sort of ruins the fun if I do that. But that’s when two particular demons started raising a huge fuss over their ‘unauthorized and unwarranted contract termination’ or what have you. I mean, the fact your random acts of violence somehow got a fiend and a succubus to agree on something is just mind boggling! So, all things considered, I decided I would help you out. And that’s why I brought you
here.”
“Then you’re going to make me a Warlock again?” Boxxy’s face looked like it was about to explode from excitement.
“No.”
And then sank into the depths of despair.
“I’m going to give you a chance. That’s the best I can do, and I’m only doing it because I like you. Also, it’s partly because that bitch Teresa cheated, and I don’t like that. Therefore, I’m going to even the odds a little, as it were. So, without further ado –”
*Snap*
A window popped up into the Mimic’s mind.
Defeat the lich
Description: There’s an undead lich hiding in these mountains. It has been raising its own personal army of the undead in secret. Find it, defeat it, and claim victory for chaos.
Difficulty: ������������
Time Limit: Until the God of Uncertainty gets bored
Reward: Your Warlock and Artificer Jobs will be fully restored. You will become the chosen Hero of the God of Chaos.
Progress: 0/1
“No rush,” Chris said reassuringly. “It’s a big undertaking, so do consider it carefully.”
Boxxy understandably had a few questions about this proposition. The reward was exactly what it wanted right now, but that difficulty rating of six turtles was more than a little odd. However, it decided it was probably better to address a more pressing concern first. “What’s a lich?”
“Oh right, you have no idea. Hmm. Basically, a super-powerful undead being that commands hordes of the dead. They also love throwing magical attacks at people’s faces.”
“Like Warlocks with skeletons?”
“Well … you’re not exactly right, but not exactly wrong, either.”
So it was a Spell-slinging opponent that had many familiars. A dangerous thing to have as an enemy to be sure. Still, the Mimic would probably end up accepting the Quest anyway. The reward was way too tasty to ignore. Speaking of the rewards, that second bit raised quite a few questions as well.
“Do I have to be a Hero?” it asked.
“I’m afraid so. I’m not doing this out of the kindness of my spleen. I actually expect to get something in return from you.”
“Oh.”
“Do you not like the idea?”
“No.”
“Well, why not?”