Dungeon Crawler Carl Book 2

by DoctorHepa

  “Yikes,” I said. “That kind of sucks.”

  “But several of the skills that it comes with are pretty rare. The Backfire skill, for example,” Mordecai said. “It allows you to pick up a trap and deconstruct it. You’ll be able to use the materials for your own purpose. The triggering mechanisms alone are quite valuable. You could make a living just by farming traps.”

  We went over a few of the other skills. Bomb Surgeon, which came with a few of my choices allowed me to basically take a stick of dynamite and cut it into pieces, making smaller, less potent bombs. Or I could deconstruct smoke bombs and utilize the individual parts for traps. Hide in Shadows was self-explanatory, though with Donut and Mongo in tow, I imagined it wouldn’t be too useful.

  Multiple classes had a pathfinder skill, including the Trickster class. But I soon learned the Compensated Anarchist had the next best thing.

  “What’s this Escape Plan skill?”

  Mordecai nodded, looking it over. “That’s a new one. It shows hidden doors more readily, but more importantly, there’s a secret benefit.” Mordecai grunted. “You can thank your cat for this one. It says it offers access to the Dungeon Locator, but it doesn’t say what that is or how to access it. Luckily for you, I do know how to find and read it. Before, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you.”

  “So what is it?”

  “At every major intersection of the dungeon is a concealed map legend that intelligent and wandering mobs can utilize. It gives a very general overview of what’s in every direction. You know how at the zoo there’s arrows that say, ‘Monkeys this way, lions that way?’ It’s the same concept. It’ll point you toward exits and city bosses and so forth. It’s not quite as good as the pathfinder skill, which basically opens up the map in a very wide area, but this might be even more useful in some ways.”

  “Okay, what about this Naughty Boys Employment Agency?”

  He shrugged. “I have no idea what that is. It sounds like a quest-giving guild.”

  “And the subclasses? It says I have to pick one on the sixth floor.”

  “We can’t see what they are yet. It’s pretty rare that you’re required to choose one, but I’ve seen it a few times. You’ll likely have to specialize further in one of the three skills. Bombs, traps, or hand-to-hand.”

  “Okay, then,” I said after a moment. “So what do you think?”

  “If you were in a more well-rounded party, I’d tell you to go with the Prizefighter class,” Mordecai said. “If you were in an even larger group, I’d suggest the Bomb Squad. All three of those are good. The Compensated Anarchist is potentially the best, but like with your race, it requires a lot of work. You’re going to need to grind and grind and focus on gaining as much experience as possible. With these shortened timers, it’s going to be a lot harder.”

  I grinned. “I guess it’s a good thing we now have a group member who knows what he’s doing.”

  Mordecai narrowed his eyes at me as I scrolled down and picked Compensated Anarchist as my class.

  * * *

  I next had to figure out my stats. Donut ended up with the following:

  Strength: 20

  Intelligence: 23 + 5 (Tiara) +1 (Charm) = 29

  Constitution: 4 + 2 (Brush) = 6

  Dexterity: 12 + 2 (Crupper) +2 (Bracelet) +5 (temp. floor bonus) = 21

  Charisma: 70

  Her strength had taken a minus three hit, but her dexterity had risen by four, her constitution by two, and her charisma by another single point thanks to her cat racial choice. Her constitution was still worryingly low. Finding items to get that up would be one of our first priorities.

  She’d only gained a net of four stat points by choosing the cat race, but she had received a ton of new skills. Night Vision, Slash Attack, Cat-like Reflexes, and a benefit called 9 Lives.

  The 9 Lives benefit was similar to her Cockroach skill, but it wasn’t as good. It halved the damage received for the first nine physical attacks she received per day. That was helpful, especially considering her low Constitution. But if we were going to be facing super powerful monsters, a half attack would still likely cut her in half.

  She eventually awakened. “What’d I miss? Did you grow elf ears?” She looked me up and down. “You’re still human. That’s boring.”

  “I’m not human. I’m a Primal.”

  “Is that like a caveman?” She made a show of sniffing me. “You smell the same.”

  “If you had remained awake, you would have learned what all this meant.”

  She shrugged and stretched. Mongo yawned loudly, also stretching. He made a purring noise that sounded suspiciously cat-like.

  I was going to have to continue to be the party’s tank. I received three stat points on level-up, and I had a pool of 36 points, though more than half of them were chosen for me thanks to the class’s minimums. After everything settled, I ended up with the following:

  Strength: 10 + 3 (toe ring) = 13 +3 (When Gauntlet Formed)

  Intelligence: 5

  Constitution: 10 + 4 (shirt) +1 (ring) +2 (ring) +2 (boxers) = 19

  Dexterity: 10 + 1 (Gauntlet) = 11

  Charisma: 25

  I’d given myself enough Intelligence to read that Wisp Armor spellbook, but I didn’t do it quite yet. I was still on the fence about using it for myself, giving it to Donut, or selling it. I wanted to see what its actual monetary value was first. The Fear spell I now had cost three points to cast.

  I wasn’t too happy yet with this build. Donut was still way more powerful than me. For the hundredth time in as many seconds, I wondered if I was an idiot for choosing this path. I’d been forced to spend a ton on Charisma. The stat was mostly useless, especially since Donut was already deity-like with hers. I was going to have to level as quickly as possible. In my head, I originally was hoping for much more Strength and Constitution. From now on, all my points were going to go into those two until their base was at least 20.

  Donut had ended up with a skillset that allowed her to pretty much make it up as she went along. My chosen path required very deliberate planning and rigorous training. But if I managed to excel—and survive—I could mold myself into something very powerful. Was I an idiot? I knew some people would definitely think so.

  “Only one thing is going to make this work,” Mordecai said. It seemed as if he’d been reading my mind.

  “Training?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “Money. And lots of it. Come on. Let’s go outside.” He started buttoning his tuxedo shirt back up. “Where did I put that tie? Oh, there it is.”

  “Wait, you can leave your room?”

  “Of course I can leave my room. I’m your manager now. Plus I have to present you two. It’s part of the whole deal.” He straightened his bow tie and rubbed the front of his jacket.

  “Technically you’re my manager,” Donut grumbled. Mongo screeched.

  That was actually a good point, but neither Mordecai nor I wanted to broach that subject just yet. He just ignored it for now. “I’m not allowed to directly fight with you, but I can still occasionally step outside. Especially on the urban levels. Let’s go. I’m going to present you, and then I need to show you something. Carl first, then Donut and Mongo.”

  All of us stood and lined up at the door. He opened it with a flourish.

  When we’d entered the room, we’d been in a long, golden hallway with tall walls. But now, spread before us was a bustling village with dozens of creatures of all types walking about. The stench of sulfur and smoke filled the polluted air. Dozens of medieval-style shops filled the area. The ground appeared to be made of wooden slats with wide spaces in some areas. Smoke drifted lazily from the holes. Above, on the fake ceiling, a blazing, red sun rose, filling the area with a crimson-hued light.

  Mordecai looked out at the village. None of the denizens gave him any heed. He waved for me to step outside, and I did. My feet echoed on the slats. The temperature out here was much higher than the previous level.

  “I’d
like to present Dungeon Crawler Carl, the Level 13 Compensated Anarchist Primal. Welcome, Carl, to the third floor.”

  A note from DoctorHepa

  I hope everyone is doing well! Thanks for sticking with me through the apocalypse! I hope you're staying safe and fed and healthy. Be sure to check in on your friends.

  Now that we're done (almost) with the math stuff for this floor, we can soon get back to everybody's favorite part. Killing things. Hopefully Mordecai takes to his new role and is helpful to the team. Hopefully Mongo doesn't chomp off more than he can chew. Hopefully Carl didn't pick a class and race with too steep of a curve.

  Monthly reminder that we have a discord where you can talk about DDC. It is here.

  In case you haven't noticed, the cover art changed. And if you're particularly eagle-eyed, you'll notice it's changed a few times. It's still a work in progress. It's not perfectly aligned with the story (Dozer is too small, Carl could be larger and not look like an extra from Grease, walls aren't right, etc), but these things never are. I'm pretty happy with the current incarnation, though it will still likely change a bit.

  Chapter 50

  “This is called the Over City,” Mordecai said as we walked along the wooden street. My minimap was awash in the white dots of NPCs. Mordecai’s dot had turned to a yellow star. A few blue dots of other crawlers were scattered about, but not many. “Where you exited the second floor has no bearing on where you enter this floor. It is completely random. So you will now be mixed in with crawlers from around the world.”

  “So Brandon and crew could be anywhere?” I asked. “How big is this place?”

  Donut sat on my shoulder and Mongo stood on her back, like we were a goddamned vaudeville act. With my increased strength, I barely felt their presence. Many of the NPCs stopped and gawked at us as we passed. Most of the NPCs in this area were humanoid dwarves, but a mix of regular humans and orcs and elf-like creatures also walked about. All wore medieval-style clothing. Larger, armored guards with obscured faces also strolled about.

  “Yes, they could be anywhere,” Mordecai said. “Their location is based on the location of their game guide. You can talk to them directly, but they probably don’t know where they are in relation to you. They had someone called Mistress Tiatha as their guide. I don’t know her that well, but I can try to figure out where she is if you’d like.”

  “So is this one giant city?”

  He nodded. “The Over City levels are a tradition in Dungeon Crawler World. There are hundreds of small, scattered villages surrounded by wide swaths of abandoned city. It’s all connected. As far as you’re concerned, these urban areas appear every three levels.” He stomped his foot on the rickety ground. “Most of this is just window dressing. You’re still below the surface of your planet. That isn’t really the sky of some distant world. There isn’t really a massive volcano under our feet.”

  “Volcano?” I asked, looking down.

  “We’ll get to that. Think of this as a stage set for the benefit of the viewers. This and all the following floors will be significantly smaller than the first two, with the exception of the ninth floor. This one is probably about the size of the state of Arizona. About 300,000 square kilometers. Most of that is the ruins.”

  “What about these NPCs?” I asked.

  A pair of dwarven girls, no older than teenagers, were practically swooning at the sight of Mordecai. They said something, trying to get his attention. He growled at them, and they scattered, giggling.

  “Oh, they’re very real. They are living, biological creatures similar to some of the mobs. Most have been engineered by the Borant Corporation, and therefore are owned by the Borant Corporation. This is the only world they know and have ever known.”

  “That’s really fucked up. Do they know what they are?”

  “Their minds are altered every time they are regenerated. The next time this floor is formed on some distant planet, these NPCs will wake up like it is just another day. But they will have also been changed, planted with false memories. Inconvenient memories—like some crawler sitting them down and explaining to them that they’re props on an intergalactic television series—will be erased. Take those goblins you told me about, for instance. They were addicted to meth. They were fighting the llamas over it. That storyline didn’t exist in the previous season. That was added for this world and this world only. Next time they’ll be addicted to solar berry extract or something like that. Or they’ll be fanatics of some god. Or something else.”

  “What the hell,” I said. That was just as bad, and in some ways worse, than what they were doing to me and my fellow humans. “But these are still living creatures? How is that legal?”

  “Borant created them, so they own them. One can’t alter the memories of naturals. People who were born in a natural biological process. Not unless they sign away their rights.”

  “And people are okay with this?”

  “Most are. The galaxy, as a whole, has plenty of other things to worry about. The rules regarding this stuff is pretty strict, almost as strict as it is regarding AIs. These biologically printed mobs and NPCs are not allowed to exist outside of a Syndicate-monitored production. Using them for any purpose other than sanctioned entertainment is highly illegal. It’s basically considered a war crime.”

  “So there’s no intergalactic brothels filled with genetically-engineered women?”

  Mordecai grimaced. “Not legal ones. But there is one place where such things do exist legally.” He pointed down.

  “But you said…” The realization struck me. “Oh, so the deeper floors?”

  “That’s right,” Mordecai said. “This third floor won’t have any tourists on it. Most of them are on the 18th floor. It’s like a billionaire’s luxury retreat. The galaxy’s rich and elite congregate on the 18th floor to party and gamble and satiate their most base desires.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “I assumed the 18th floor would be hell on earth filled with dragons and lightning giants and shit. What would happen if a crawler managed to get there?”

  “Nobody ever has,” Mordecai said. “So I don’t know. The same with the 15th floor. Borant and the system AI are required to have a plan in place, but nobody has ever gotten that deep, so nobody knows. That sort of thing is way above my pay grade.”

  As we walked, we passed multiple shops and guildhalls and inns. The inns were listed as Saferooms on my minimap.

  Mordecai spent some time explaining class and skill guildhalls. Donut and I both could train at Rogue guildhalls. Donut also had access to Bard halls, and I would have access to Fighter halls. Sometimes there would be special halls for certain races, too. He said he’d never seen a Primal hall, but it was possible it existed. Quadrupeds generally didn’t have halls.

  We reached the end of the street where a small fence had been erected. A pair of the well-armored guards stood by a small gate about as high as my waist. The two guards were head-to-toe in plate mail, and I couldn’t tell what sort of creature they were. Only that they were bulky and tall. Each were armed with long, steel blades. I examined one.

  Village Guard Swordsman – Level 75

  Everyone likes the strong, silent type. In order to find out what’s underneath that helmet, you’ll have to first kill the guard. Go ahead and give it a try. I double dog dare you.

  Village Guards are tasked with protecting the population centers of the third floor from the creatures who roam the Over City Ruins. They are only on duty when the sun is up, so don’t go whining to them for help when it’s dark.

  The guard was unmoving. He stood there like a statue.

  “He’s kind of scary,” Donut said as we paused at the gate.

  “Don’t mess with the guards,” Mordecai said. “Don’t attack the NPCs. Don’t try to rob the stores. Don’t get drunk and pass out in the streets. There is no jail here. Only the death penalty. If you run afoul of the guards, don’t try to fight them. They are slow, but there are a lot of them. Run from them and
into the ruins. They won’t follow you there. You will never be able to return to that particular village.”

  Beyond the gate were more buildings, but they were decrepit and abandoned, made of crumbling, moss-covered bricks, slumping in on themselves. A rolling fog obscured the distance, but even in the shadows of the fog I could see faint buildings of all shapes and sizes.

  “Okay,” Mordecai said, indicating the area beyond the gate. “The ruins. It’s the same as the dungeon, but it’s all old, rotting buildings, abandoned and overgrown parks and so forth. There’s this whole storyline about the existence of the city. It’s all based on a children’s story that never made it into your earth’s culture. Basically there’s this massive, dormant volcano, and a magical world existed solely inside of the volcano. That world consisted of six layers. The very top layer is where we are now, the Over City. It is where most of the people lived. A great monster lived at the bottom of the volcano and breathed out poison gas one day and killed or transformed 90% of the volcano world. The descendants of the survivors live in these villages. The resulting monsters live in the ruins.”

  “That’s quite morbid,” Donut said.

  “So we’re on top of a volcano right now? In the game's story, I mean,” I asked.

  “Yes. This floor is supposed to span the length of the volcano’s crater.”

  “So what’s the next level down?” I asked.

  “For you, the fourth level is just a random dungeon level. Same with the fifth. But the sixth floor is also part of this volcano city storyline. For the NPCs here, it is the next level down. It is called the Hunting Grounds. It’s another urban level with similar villages, though the villages are much bigger, and the original residents were much more wealthy. The ruins are jungle-like and filled with vines. And it’s the first level where brave and insane tourists can go to hunt crawlers. Not too many do it because it’s both expensive and dangerous. There are no protections for the hunters. They’re in real danger from both the mobs and the crawlers, and every season a handful of rich dumbasses get themselves killed.”