The Discarded, Half-Eaten Apple Core New Life

Meditate on this Zen Koan: "If you find the Buddha on the road, kill him."

I did a thing. Then Marshall, who was by my side (I was inside BJ6), asked something about a thing I had just done.

"What is that thing?"

"It's a rocket," I answered with a slightly better-synthesized voice. I had improved my TTS AI.

"Why is it upside down?"

"So I don't have to burn energy turning it upside down later."

In hindsight, a little bit of context here should help. You see, a month after the whole Wobby Dick and Beelzevoid Fly incident, the Infernali returned to the usual "spawn a truckload of nasties and send them to wear the humans out" strategy that had been going on for the last two years and did fuck all to actually... Well, we had a mutiny or two. So maybe it was working. They just needed to wait until the humans died. It's not like they're pressed for time, with the tree taking 200 years, 198 now, to grow.

I digress.

After that shitshow and the utter failure of my wall strategy, I decided to prepare. And part of my preparations was to make sure the walls wouldn't fail again. Also, something to strike back at those stupid besieging demons.

Ah. The good old times when being in a Dungeon meant just digging a hole in the ground and then murdering people stupid enough to crawl into strange holes in the ground. Which was basically public service by removing stupid from the gene pool. From a utilitarian (and not very ethical) point of view.

Look, I am not in my best mind.

Remember the NASA files I got? Well, they contained a lot of stuff about things that were meant to go into space. Including rockets. So I made one. It was designed to reach escape velocity, but it was upside down. This rocket, in particular, was not meant to go into space. It was upside down because it was meant to go... Well, if you know your rockets, the answer is obvious. Also, there was no space stuff inside the rocket. Only rocket fuel and... not-space stuff.

I was nervous. I should've taken some Adderal (don't self-medicate, kids) or even an Alprazolam (again, winners don't use drugs). But chemicals would do fuck all to me because I was a crystal. I thought I was winning. I thought it was easy. Turns out the Infernali can waltz in and void us anytime they want. One whale that died miles away broke down one wall. I had what? Twenty Wobby Dicks? Yes, about that, sitting around us. That's twenty times a fucking lot of void flies.

Hence the rocket pointing down. I won't say what I intended to do with it so I couldn't jinx it. I can't jinx this.

"Anyway," Marshall changed subjects, "The guys who wanted to leave in April changed their mind."

"How come?"

"They earned three levels for free when you killed the... whale."

"It's a Wobby Dick."

"That's a stupid name."

"You haven't seen a thing. Do you know what the power armor those teens are going to use is called by the System?"

"Is it some stupid name?"

"Not by me."

"So it is stupid."

"Not my fault."

"I didn't say that."

"Boo. It's done."

I cut the tethers and the rocket flew away. Side thrusters would make sure it went where it should go. A DCSC would make sure it stayed in control. I had a year to use or lose the rocket. I started Replicating another one. Each rocket cost me 95,000 Dungeon Mana, and most of it was non-refundable. And I was making forty of these. Later. This one was just a proof-of-concept to test if the Infernali would react to me putting an upside-down space rocket on top of them.

"I earned a Sub-Class slot after you killed the Whale," Marshall shared.

"Me too."

"When are you dropping your useless Sub-Classes?"

What a massive bother. Another thing on my plate and I didn't even use plates.

"You must," Marshall insisted and a box appeared in his hand. "Our future, our lives hinge on that. And I got you a Box of Holding. It has a 10 times enchantment. Which meant the inside is a thousand times bigger. When empty, storage items can be put inside one another."

"Fine."

I absorbed the item. It was a two-by-two-by-two wooden box, which meant its interior could hold eight thousand cubic feet. More than ten times what My Dimensional Storage would at this level.

I dumped the contents of my storage near me. A pile of magic stones as tall as Blackjack Six formed. Marshall whistled.

A window opened, listing the Perks from Dimensional Porter. I selected any Perk. It made no difference.

What? Attribute efficiency and not points? I put it on Willpower. I opened my Class selection list.

Damn. Bloody damn. That's... A fucking lot of options. The aliens even slipped some meme options in there. What is this about becoming human again? Do I even want that? Keeping my achievements meant keeping the bonuses, right? And the extra Attribute points... Then again, the only reason we weren't fucked over ten times over was that I had a Dungeon's powers. We would be running away from Jabberwock in a wagon.

Yeah, hard pass. Sorry, I won't become a human again. This True Hero business was also out of the question. Merging with the tree? Sorry, I want to have the option to run away.

I stopped because I heard a knock on my Mecha. It was Marshall.

"What is it?"

"I thought you were gone."

"No, not really. I'm reviewing my Class options."

"Any (Mythic)?"

"Yes, five."

Marshall paused. "None of my social powers work on you. Skills, Traits, not even the Perks. It unnerves me. I can't tell if you are lying."

"I'm not."

He spent five minutes staring at my metallic faceplate. "You are not lying. Five (Mythic) Classes."

"Yes."

"Fucker. How do I become a Dungeon?"

"I don't know. But I was also offered a choice to be reborn as a human baby elsewhere."

"Which you are not taking. Because the moment you are gone, everyone in here will die. A few of my retinue and I may survive but Speranza will be overrun in a matter of hours."

"I am aware of that and I don't want to become a frail fleshbag. I like to be invulnerable."

"How high is your Constitution score?"

"I don't have it. Instead, I have Hardness."

"Like an object."

"Indeed."

"So, you were saying. Your hardness score is?"

"Way more than two thousand."

"I'm guessing way more than five thousand."

"About right. I invested some Efficiency points in it too."

"Of course you did. Bastard. I don't think even my rapier could chip you."

"You need to get through this Mecha first. Or score a hit."

"We need to spar again."

"Later."

"I'll assume you are a (Legendary) and the Mythic choices have some text saying they'll replace your main Class, right?" Marshall guessed. "Several people who earn a Class evolution will either receive the evolution straight away or have them offered as upgrades. Let me tell you, it is a good choice. Though the spontaneous Class evolution is stronger, you have no idea when it will happen. It usually merges one sub-Class into your main Class and releases the slot. You keep the Perks and Skills."

"What about the Attributes?"

"A bump in rarity includes Attribute bonuses. So they are subsumed and your total remains unchanged until you level the replacement. Your Experience per level is also adjusted."

"Should I wait and see if I get a spontaneous Class evolution?"

"Fuck, no!" He glared at me. "We need power now. Also, getting this will allow you to unlock (Legendary) sub-Classes. As you can only have sub-Classes one rarity level below yours. You fucking bastard."

"Envious?"

"Very much," he deadpanned.

I took one of the offered Class evolutions. Among the five mythic, the choice was easy. Bothersome Classes out, meme Classes out, only one remained. Electronic Apple Orchard would become a sub-Class and I would keep my Skills. Which meant a Sub-Class with two Skills, not a bad deal.

Then a Sub-Class to fill the new slot. Again, the choice was easy. Not an optimal one but something among that list resonated with my wishes. Two, actually. Though I needed to see what (Legendary) choices would appear.

Leaving that new slot open, I committed my choice.

*

*

What?

The Half-Eaten, Discarded apple core is evolving?