“How’s everybody doing?” Det asked, sheathing his sword and picking his steps past fallen debris as he headed for the broken stage. If there was loot, it would probably come from a 3-D printer in the back. Nothing in the theatre looked like what Det had seen in his first dungeon.

  Oh, except for the twin mulchers waiting in the wings on either side of the stage. In all the chaos, he hadn’t noticed them before, but at least these ones weren’t stained with crimson. Det and the others had gotten there before the Wordless had fed anybody to the machines.

  There was also the matter of Kels, though. Why had the Angler looked like her? How did the Wordless know she meant anything to Det? Or, was it just a coincidence?

  If he could find the Angler, maybe there would be…

  Debris erupted from near the center of the stage, wood and broken ceiling getting flung in all directions as a white Wordless emerged. Red eyes locking on Det—since he was the closest—the somehow-still-friggin-alive-and-all-in-one-piece-again-Angler dropped to all-fours, then launched in his direction. Nutcracker jaw clacking the entire way, it came at him like a spear, primed to take his head clean off.

  It got his hand to its face instead, his ReSouled body reacting by stepping into his opponent’s jump. Those extra feet got him inside the range of its sweeping arms, where he grabbed it by the face. His strength—though it wasn’t up to Tena’s specs—was enough to stop the relatively lightweight Wordless cold.

  Arms and legs flailed past Det, his muscles burning and bulging from the exertion, before he flexed at his abdomen and drove the back of the Wordless’ head into the floor. Wood and white material both cracked at the impact, but the thing wasn’t dead. Or, even if it was, Det wasn’t going to trust it until he’d made sure.

  One of his few remaining kernels of power zipped down his right arm, and into the stencil on the palm of his hand. Black, inky flames sparked to life after two seconds while he held it down, then engulfed the Wordless head at the same time Det squeezed with his fingers.

  Wordless arms came up to flail at him, though he blocked one side of his head with his free hand, then caught an arm by the wrist. In the next second, he twisted it beneath him, bringing his knee down to pin the limb beside him, black flames spreading the whole time. That last fact threw the Wordless into a kind of panic, its legs kicking and flailing uselessly, while its free arm slammed into Det’s other side.

  One, two, three hits, each feeling like a sledgehammer to his ribs, before Tena was there. A crystal-covered gauntlet caught the fist before it could land a fourth blow, then pressed it down to the floor, holding it there.

  “Are those flames going to burn me?” Tena asked Det, eyes locked on the fire crawling down the Wordless’ arm.

  “No,” Det said. His free hand—now that he was holding the arm under his leg and weight—drove right into the burning face beside his other hand. With a good grip on the thing, Det leaned even further forward, so that he was gazing directly into its red eyes. Then he squeezed.

  As tired as his body was, he had the strength for this. More cracks echoed from the head, the panicked flailing of the Wordless’ legs going up a notch. It wouldn’t be enough to stop or slow Det.

  “Die,” he told the thing, the pressure of his hands squeezing on the weakened material of the skull popping one red eye right out of the socket. The other cracked, the head crushing around it, before it completely collapsed. A grunt from Det was the only sound as the Wordless died, its entire body experiencing one last spasm before going deathly still.

  Up close like that, it hadn’t looked so much like Kels, and Det pushed himself off the headless corpse, his eyes going to the arm he’d had pinned beneath his knee. What was that on its wrist?

  “You okay, Det?” Weiss asked, rushing over with the others.

  “Yeah,” Det said, ignoring his ribs already bruising from the pounding they’d taken, and lifted the arm of the Wordless up. “Calisco, does this look familiar to you?” He pointed to a braid of red string half embedded into the white wrist.

  “Kels wears something like that, doesn’t she?” Calisco said, and both of them looked down at where the head of the thing had been. “Did you just kill Kels after she’d been turned into a Wordless?”

  “That’s not even funny,” Det said. His words didn’t help the pit he had forming in his stomach at the question.

  “Wasn’t meant to be,” Calisco said.

  “It’s not your friend,” Sage said, one arm over Tena’s double’s shoulder, as the armored copy helped him walk. “Some Wordless are known to shape themselves off people they get the DNA of. Your friend must’ve dropped her bracelet here before the emergence formed. Then, it found its way in here, and that Wordless picked it up.

  “People do not turn into Wordless.”

  “You sure about that?” Calisco said.

  “I’m sure,” Sage said. “There’s not a single record of it ever happening.”

  “Doesn’t mean it can’t be true,” Calisco said.

  Sage didn’t immediately respond. “You are technically correct,” he admitted, trying to prop himself up higher on Tena’s shoulder. He didn’t have the strength to, and it took the double’s hand on his chest lifting him up to get him closer to his normal height. He gave the crystal tank a nod of thanks, then repeated the gesture to the real Tena, standing near Det. “I still don’t think it’s her. Somebody going to the town can confirm.”

  “But,” Det said. “She might be here. A secret room or something.”

  “How do you plan to find one of those?” Calisco said. “Since it’s—you know—secret and stuff.”

  “I came prepared,” Det said, pulling a scroll from the holster across his chest. A flick of his thumb and a snap of his wrist sent the scroll unfurling into the air beside him, where hung as energy flashed within the black lines.

  Det didn’t use a kernel this time, his body already feeling kind of hollow from how many he’d used in short order, and instead relied on the kernel he’d placed when originally painting the piece.

  “Are those…?” Tena started to ask.

  “Yes,” Det said simply as a swarm of black dragonflies burst into the air at the same time the scroll fell apart in burning embers. “Find any secret rooms,” Det told the renditions, and they immediately spread out to scour the theatre.

  “You came in expecting to look for secret rooms?” Weiss said.

  “I came in wondering if I’d need help looking for something,” Det said. “I found a secret—or at least hidden—tunnel in that infant dungeon. Didn’t want to get surprised again.”

  “What about us, then?” Weiss said, a touch sending more lances of cold through Det. Shocking as it was, it eased the dull ache in his side. “What should we do while we wait, or are we done here?”

  “Not quite,” Det said, leaving his dragonflies to do their thing. If there was a secret door or passage, they were his best bet of finding it. Opening it would be another story, but one problem at a time. “If the dungeon is finished, we should be getting a…”

  “Challenge completed. Rewards calculating,” a mechanical voice said, while two lines of red rose along the back wall of the stage. Right where four dragonflies had converged. Each line was about four feet apart, and skated straight up the wall, until they reached about eight feet high, then took ninety-degree turns in, and directly toward each other.

  A second later, the outline of a door had appeared, which then proceeded to swing open.

  “That’ll be the reward room,” Sage said.

  “And Det’s dragonflies found the door before it opened,” Tena said. “I’ll be damned.”

  “That’s a good sign,” Det said, turning around to look to see if the others had found anything. Nothing, so far.

  “So, what’s in there? Treasure?” Calisco said. “We finally getting white thingies like Det and you have?”

  “We are,” Sage said, tapping the handle of the Wordless dagger he hadn’t even drawn during the fight.

  “I want a pony,” Calisco said, starting for the stairs leading up to the stage. She only got two steps before Tena was in front of her, one hand up, shield forming in the other.

  “Could still be more danger,” the Bulwark said. “Let me go first.”

  “You just want my pony,” Calisco said.

  “I do not,” Tena said. “I’m more a horse girl than a pony girl. Size matters.”

  “Oh ho ho,” Calisco chuckled, but followed the Bulwark as they approached the door.

  Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

  “I guess we’ll take up the rear,” Sage said, and pointed between himself and Tena’s crystal doppelganger. “Eriba, how are you doing?”

  “Tired,” the woman said back in her normal, quiet voice, hair matted to her head from sweat. The head of her mace dragged on the ground from where she didn’t seem able to lift it, and she had a pistol of some kind in her other hand. “No magic left.”

  “How about the rest of you?” Det asked. “Not you, Sage.”

  “What?” Sage said. “I’m just conserving my energy. When you find a strong, beautiful woman willing to carry you, take it.”

  “Beautiful?” Tena said from the front of the group. “You hitting on me or me crystal clone?”

  “Why not both?” Sage said. “I’m open to new experiences.”

  “Not at all the conversation for this time or place,” Det interrupted.

  “I’m almost out of energy, myself,” Weiss said. “Stopping Sage’s body from falling apart from whatever he did took more than I thought possible.”

  “What did you do?” Tena said.

  “Later,” Det interrupted. “We’ll all have plenty to talk about. Tena? Can you fight, if we need to?”

  “I can always fight,” Tena said. Then she looked to the side, like she was embarrassed. “That’s probably the last clone for a while, though. I’m in the same shape Weiss is. And, under my armor, I’ve got enough cuts, my boots are sloshing when I walk.”

  “Let me…” Weiss started, but Tena held up her hand.

  “I’m fine for now,” Tena said. “If it’s safe in the next room, I’ll happily look at my loot in the dark. If not, save what you have left in case one of the others—without crystal armor—end up needing it.”

  “You’re such a badass,” Calisco said, slapping Tena on the shoulder. “Me? I can fight for days. Bring me something to explode, and I’ll explode it so well, it will wish it wasn’t exploded.”

  “I think most things probably wish that,” Det said under his breath. A quick count of his renditions still in service wasn’t promising. Only three snakes—out of dozens—still remained. At least they were big ones. He also had two honey-badgers, so angry they were presently taking their rage out on lifeless Wordless corpses.

  Maybe he wouldn’t bring those into a closed room with the others. Just in case.

  The final bird of prey was gone, and so was the second wolf. The Wordless had cut his small army to pieces, but they’d served their purpose.

  “I’ve only got a few more scrolls,” Det said. “And about enough energy to fill a shot glass. A one ounce one. Hopefully the room is just loot.” That last trick he’d pulled on the Wordless Angler had sucked more energy out of him than he’d expected. Worth it, though.

  “Let’s get in there then,” Tena said. “If something jumps us, just hit it with sticks until Calisco can blow it up.”

  “Sounds like my kind of plan,” Calisco said, then looked back at Det. “Don’t worry about standing too close.”

  “You did a good job with that targeted blast,” Weiss said.

  “Thanks,” Calisco said. “Not what I meant, though.”

  “Har har,” Det said, following the others up on stage and to the back where the glowing door stood open. From within the cracked opening, more light spilled out on to the stage, until Tena poked the door with the tip of her spear, shoving it all the way open. Inside, familiar, black machinery hummed softly, lights of different colors flickering as if the computers were processing something.

  One, two… six of the printers I saw back in the infant dungeon.

  And they were already almost finished producing the rewards, from the looks of things. That got confirmed an instant later, with that same mechanical voice speaking out over speakers in the dungeon.

  “Rewards complete. Please collect.”

  “Wordless dungeons really produce treasure?” Weiss said. “I half thought you were all pulling my leg.”

  “Nope,” Det said. “This is a lot like what I found back in that infant dungeon. That one only had one printer.”

  “How do we know who gets what?” Tena said.

  “The machines have a clear barrier between us and the gear,” Sage said from where he had his arm over double-Tena’s shoulder. “It’ll only open for the right person.”

  “Who’s to stop somebody from taking all this for themselves?” Calisco asked.

  “It won’t work for you,” Sage said. “If you even try, it’ll give you a headache. Keep trying and it’ll feel like your head it going to split open. Nobody has really taken it past that point. The pain is bad enough even A-Rankers have backed down. Not worth it.”

  “Tsk,” Calisco said.

  “You don’t have enough hands for all this, anyway,” Det said.

  “I guess,” Calisco said, then seemed to think of something. “Besides, if I’m going to have minions, they should have good enough stuff they don’t die. Replacing minions is a pain in the ass.”

  “We’re minions now?” Weiss said.

  “Always were,” Calisco said. “Cept for Tena. She’s mah sista.”

  “Word,” Tena said, fist-bumping with Calisco.

  “There was so much wrong with all that,” Sage said. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “How about with the loot?” Det said. “We should get out and see how things are going with closing off the area. And to find out if Beauty needs us for anything else. Preferably for sleeping.”

  “I could use a nap,” Eriba said quietly.

  “Then, gear,” Det said. “Lets’s uh… walk around the machines until they open for us.”

  “Before that,” Weiss said. “You’re all very trusting about the room filled with machines in the dungeon that just tried very hard to murder us. Are we sure this is all safe.”

  “It’s safe,” Sage said. “ReSouled have been collecting their rewards from dungeons for cycles upon cycles. It just works like this.”

  “Why?” Weiss pressed.

  “Nobody is really sure,” Sage said. “But, if you ask me, it’s connected to us, somehow. To ReSouled, I mean. We grow faster when fighting Wordless—compared to other things—and we get loot from completing the dungeons. Anybody who says there isn’t something there is deluding themselves.”

  “It can’t be that simple,” Tena said. “With how long the Mistguard have been around, they would’ve figured it out.”

  “Would they?” Sage countered. “I don’t think they want to.”

  “Why not?” Tena said.

  “Because of the reasons I just told you,” Sage said. “Having the Wordless around is the fastest way for us to get stronger. Look at us ReSouled. This is basically a power fantasy. We get yanked away from Earth, then dropped on Elestar with superpowers and a clear path to getting even stronger. The Mistguard may not rule Elestar, but they sure as hell control it.

  “Money. Mistships. Military power. It all starts with the Mistguard. And what do people with power tend to do with that power? Hold onto it. That’s why they don’t really tell the population about the existence of the Wordless.”

  “How can you even say that?” Weiss said. “We saw what happened in Ironsalt. The same thing could happen here. But, we were sent to stop it.”

  “To stop it, yes,” Sage said. “Not to tell the people about the threat crawling beneath their feet.”

  “There’s got to be more to it than that,” Det said, then held up a hand to Sage to stop him from saying more. “But it’s politics we’re not going to figure out down here. We’re all tired. Let’s get these rewards, then get out of here and see what’s next.”

  The others—other than Calisco, who’d gone over and found a machine that opened for her—looked at Det. Sage took a breath, then nodded.

  “You’re right,” Sage said. “I’m sorry. I am tired. Eriba isn’t the only one who could use a nap. I wasn’t trying to blame the Mistguard for the Wordless.”

  “Just that they’re connected?” Weiss said, offering an olive branch.

  “Exactly,” Sage said. “Again, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten up on my soap box.”

  “It’s fine,” Tena said. “This is new to most of us. We’ll have to learn it somehow. Better to do it from somebody we know and trust.”

  “Thank you,” Sage said.

  “This is awesome!” Calisco’s shout interrupted the conversation, and everybody spun around to look at what she’d found. White, metal earmuffs, apparently. Or, maybe noise-cancelling headphones would be a better description? Nah, totally going to call them earmuffs. She also had a pair of Wordless gauntlets, each one going halfway up to her elbows. More on the sleek than bulky side, they had the same ceramic-slash-mechanical look as everything produced by the Wordless and didn’t limit her movement at all as she flexed her fingers.

  “Can we get our new toys too?” Eriba said, doe-eyes on full display.

  “Who can say no to that?” Sage laughed.

  “Find your loot,” Det said. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

  “What does your stuff do?” Tena asked Calisco as she went looking for her own rewards.

  “No idea!” Calisco said, huge grin on her face. “I can hear real good with these things on though. Like, real good. Somebody is hungry.” Her head turned in Eriba’s direction as the woman stumbled at the comment, free hand going to her stomach.

  “I was nervous this morning,” Eriba said. “I didn’t eat.”

  “We’ll all have a big lunch and a nap when this is done,” Det said as he found his machine. Just like Sage had said, some kind of nearly-invisible barrier rose as he approached. Really, it wasn’t like he would’ve needed that to tell him the two items inside were for him.

  A white scroll and katana? Who else would they have been for?

  Giving the others a quick look to make sure they’d found their rewards—they had—Det reached down and picked up the scroll. If it was anything like his gauntlet or eyepatch, he’d have to figure out what it did on his own. That might be a job for later, but he was a bit curious.

  Inspecting the scroll, it was made from the same white material as everything else. Like the scrolls he usually carried with him, it had a kind of seal to keep it rolled up, and when he undid that and unfurled a foot of it, he had to raise an eyebrow. The scroll wasn’t made of paper, but the strange Wordless material had been made just as thin. Right now, the space was entirely blank, about a foot from top to bottom, and he pulled it out another two feet.

  The paper was actually coming out through a tiny slot, like it was wound up inside the scroll. Like a measuring tap. How was he supposed to roll it back up…? The answer was the same as with the measuring tape he’d likened it to. Once he let go of it, the paper retracted itself. All in all, pretty convenient. And, the clear white of the surface would make it easy for him to paint on. It was a really nice canvas.

  There had to be more to it than that, though.

  Leaving what was inside the scroll for a moment, Det turned his attention to the outside. Namely the cord attached to one end. Clasps on either end of the chord, the scroll could clearly be removed from it—with a flick of a thumb, from the looks of it—while also being hung from something. Something a lot like the holsters he was currently using for his scrolls.

  Like it was instinct, Det reached up and hooked the scroll to latch it from the where the strap of his chest strap crossed over his left shoulder. It fit like it was meant to be there, hanging down to about his elbow.

  I guess I know where it goes… but not what it does. I’ll figure that out when we get out of here. What about this sword…?

  Leaving the scroll where it was attached to his upper arm, Det reached down and took the katana in both hands. One hand on the hilt, the other on the matching scabbard, the craftsmanship was somewhere between traditional and futuristic. The sword itself didn’t have a cross-guard or anything like a normal katana would, with instead something like a vertical, rectangular block. Barely wider than the grip, it would offer little to no protection from something sliding along the blade.

  Decorative?

  Just for looks or not, it fit snugly into a slot on the scabbard that looked like something out of a cyberpunk anime. It was made of the usual Wordless material, and the angles on it made it feel like it was crafted by a machine instead of a person. Which it was, to be fair.

  Not that Det really minded. He could work with futuristic or traditional aesthetics, as long as the sword was functional. To fine out about that last point, he drew the blade with a satisfying sching. Even though the Wordless material wasn’t quite metal, the sword was kind enough to make the expected sound as it came out of the scabbard.

  Like the rest of the weapon, the blade was the same bleached-bone white, giving the sword a bit of an unnatural look. It was… striking. Placing the scabbard back down on the printer, Det could the katana in both hands, feeling the weight of it. Perfectly balanced. Or, at least, perfectly balanced for him. It felt right in his hands… except for a weird indentation where his trigger finger was.

  An indentation that was both too obvious and too specific to be a mistake or a coincidence. Making sure the weapon wasn’t pointed at any of the others, Det squeezed his finger, then nearly dropped the weapon as the blade broke apart into hundreds—no, thousands—of… bristles? Each about an inch and a half long.

  Det had gone from holding a katana to holding a katana-shaped paintbrush with the push of a button.