We splashed down hard into the sea, and the parachute cloths fluttered across the decks. As the various systems and machines switched back over to sea-faring mode, the crew in the bridge stood up and stretched. It was a relatively long flight, maybe a couple hours, and it was nice to be in stable waters again.

The aerodynamic deck shell retracted with its clack-clack-clacking, and the blues and violets and pinks of an evening sky poured down on us. The castle bridge raised, the monitors clicked off and changed back to window-mode, and through the glass, I could see the city. It was about the size of Eurusia, maybe bigger, with less color and more commerce. The streets there were busy and crawling with people--I could see it from here--and the piers were packed with ships bearing flags of countless different shapes and colors, most I had never seen before.

The city was built for this sort of thing. Maritime commerce. It was almost a black market city, a global trading hub for all sorts of things big and small, legal and illegal, moral and less-than-moral.

It was built on the end of a peninsula--I vaguely remembered hearing about a small port town here centuries ago--but now it had grown so far and so fast that the city spilled out over the shores and into the water, and now more than a third of the entire city was laid across the decks of ships. They were interlocked, their masts and sails shaved off, and homes and storefronts were laid atop. I could see it from here. As the warm glow of lanterns began to flicker on across the city, the homes and buildings on the ocean top blocks dipped and rose gently with each passing wave, and those people within walked across the streets of which without even a worry.

I wondered that if we had docked against that mass of old ships, that our battleship would somehow get stuck and absorbed as a new block of the city, and we'd be a physical part of the growth of the city forever after.

Had we not been on a mission, that wouldn't have been so bad from the looks of it. But for now, this would be the last place before the final battle, before our counterattack.

After we docked with what was apparently the restaurant section of the half-floating city, we dropped the gangplank, and the rebel officers released their troops for shore leave.

"Swap modes," I ordered.

"Yes, sir!" said the girls in the bridge. The rocket engines splashed into the water, the hardpoints moved beneath the waterline, and mining lasers built and activated. The water churned and bubbled along the hull, but it was relatively quiet. No noise complaints here.

"Well, Redrim," said the Card King. "How long do we intend to stay?"

"Oh? I thought you were the one leading this show, and I was just sailing the ship."

He chuckled. "We need at least a few days to gather new recruits. The ship is... getting very large very quickly."

"Do we have a battle plan for Marianna, or are we just gonna wing it?" I raised an eyebrow. "Because I can wing it if you guys want."

"It's in the works," he said. "It'll take luck and timing, but with the power and the vast recycling abilities at our disposal, I have no doubt we could beat Marianna's ground forces after we leave here."

"Her ground forces," I echoed. "But not her navy?"

He shook his head. "Her main naval force is far East fighting another war. If they return before we attack, there would be no hope of victory." He took on a serious look and stared into me. "Imagine an ocean filled with battleships. Hundreds--no--thousands with countless more cruisers and destroyers and warships. All that we have fought thus far were just patrols and escort fleets."

Fuckin' Marianna, making all these fancy-ass ships. Surely there was a clever solution to destroy an ocean of enemy ships all at once, but I couldn't imagine what it would be. If the rebel leaders could manage a battle plan, we wouldn't even need to worry about it.

Jenna blinked onto the monitor. "Redrim!" She looked kind of angry, and I was terrified that I might've somehow been responsible.

"What's wrong?"

"Take me shopping!" She was playfully angry.

The Card King laughed. Jenna tried to maintain her glare, but it was melting away.

When I considered it, Jenna might not have ever experienced a new city like this before. She grew up in Lambston during Marianna's oppressive reign, and she had been a rebel for most of her independent life. For her, this was an adventure, just as the adventure was for me that first time. I could see the gleam of it in her eyes, that yearn for brighter horizons and faraway shores, and here we were taking her across the world.

I smiled at her, at that expression that I knew all too well, my own expression as a squire to my first mentor all those years ago, and I said, "Sure."

Before leaving, I invested a few class points into the dungeon system so that we could have more static trash guards. The ship had gotten bigger, and we needed more trash can mobs to fill out the place.

Dungeon Core:

Boss Tier 2 unlocked

Resource Limit 4 unlocked.

Spawners: 2

Dimensional Floors: 1

Mobs:

Recycler: 5,000 M

Recycler++: 10,000 M

Bosses:

Trash Squire: 20,000 M

Trash Knight: 50,000 M

Resource Limit: 86,400 M

Set units:

Trash Knight: 1

Recycler: 7

I could've made a Trash Squire to help the new Trash Knight, but I wanted more eyes moving around at once. The base-level recycler mobs could alert any incoming enemies, and the Trash Knight--pretty much a slightly more shitty version of myself--would charge in and dispatch the threat.

I saw it on my screen, this new Trash Knight, and I had to admit it was pretty badass. Did I look like that walking around? It had access to my basic recycler forms, and it didn't seem stupid, so maybe it was for the best.

Feeling good about myself, I headed to the top decks and the gangplank, and I found Jenna waiting for me there. She was still in her rebel's uniform and her slightly-too-large jacket. We would need to fix this later.

"Well?" she smiled. "Where are you gonna take me?"

I didn't plan this far ahead.

Other rebels walked past us and into the city. Groups of friends and couples and comrades going ashore for a night on the town. Some of the locals were stopping them to ask about this strange flying battleship, and the rebels were just as excited to explain as the locals were excited to listen.

"I dunno," I told her. "You hungry?"

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Why not take that girl with you? Jessie, I think."

Right on queue, Jessie walked by. "No thanks," she said. She had her arms looped with two other young sailors on either side, and I knew what she had planned for the night, and I didn't argue. Let the slutty woman rut. Hell, I couldn't blame her. I'd do the same if I still had my old body.

"She's busy," I said. "Don't you have any other friends you'd like to take out? Someone your age, maybe?"

She sighed. "Eh. Everyone's doing their own thing tonight."

"Kyaa~" said a rumbling, burly voice behind me. "Wait for me~"

That was... the Gimp King's voice. He was acting like a schoolgirl late for something, and when I looked behind me, I could see that--yep--he had toast in his mouth.

And no pants. Of course.

"Redrim," he said. "I require a new weapon. Pray join me on the quest so that we may get to know one another better."

I cringed. Jenna hit me with that look, a special look that told me--wordlessly--that I better let him join us or she'd whoop my ass, and I had no doubt she'd follow through. "Fuck it. Come on."

And so we walked. A trash can wearing knight's armor. The king of the gimps. And a young rebel leader. Crossing into a new fantasy city and drinking in that crisp sunset air.

The whole city seemed to glow at this hour. The buildings atop the interlinked ships were all of similar wooden designs, with little footpaths leading in and out and over the tops of bobbing ships, and we passed through a little gift shop with a smiling chubby guy, and then a small candy store, and then a boutique--we paused at that one so Jenna could find pants that might fit the Gimp King.

Jenna and I waited outside the changing rooms, and the Gimp King soon emerged wearing a tight leotard that put his bulge on display. I mean, it was already on display before, but now it was somehow worse. We shook our heads at him. The Gimp King retreated back into the changing room, emerging again in a black lacy outfit that revealed to us his most sensitive curves and contours and his most daring places.

Jenna rolled up her sleeves and shook her fist at him. He raised his hands in mock defeat, retreated again, and emerged with a long black skirt and a parasol. Goth-core, it was known as. Jenna gave him the thumbs up, and we left to find the next place I was interested in.

The magic vendor.

It was, of course, a typical magic vendor's shop, with a typical cryptic magic vendor and a typical glass case of cryptic magic scrolls and potions and cryptic little knick-knacks. The Gimp King and Jenna looked around at the wands and such while I picked out some of the spells that I could use.

+1 Feign Death Potion

+1 Invisibility Potion

+1 Conjur Demon Scroll

+1 Equipment Repair Potion

+1 Mind Flash Potion

+1 Summon Swarm: Insect Scroll

+1 Vines Potion

+1 Power Circle Scroll

These spells would be incredibly useful, even more so once we recycled them for everyone to use. I knew the magic research facility might be able to craft an interesting mix, but that would come later.

Jenna's stomach whined, so we took her to a luxury steak shop. We ate steak atop the aftcastle of a restaurant ship, watched countless lanterns get released from the inner city, and I paid the tab, and we left.

Next was another clothing shop. Jenna bought me a cape. A big red and brown one. I couldn't say no.

I, in turn, offered to buy her an outfit of her choice. The shop offered everything from costumes to maiden's dresses to suits to peasant's outfits. She chose the men's musketeer outfit. I didn't complain. It was bright red with a feathery hat, and it looked smashing on her. The Gimp King agreed, and as a reward for agreeing, Jenna bought him a frilly black hat.

The Gimp King was now a goth wife. I was a caped Trash Knight. And Jenna, a little red musketeer.

Changing nothing, we continued on our little adventure and found the weapon seller. Jenna ran around like a kid in a candy store while the Gimp King and I talked shop.

"I fear they would not carry such a weapon," he said somehow sadly. Somewhere, between then and there, he had acquired black mascara and black lipstick.

"What happened to your old one?" I asked.

"The Kraken consumed it," he said.

"Ah."

I remembered it now. During that climactic battle, the Gimp King and I fought against that underwater abomination of the deep. He rode atop his water-type gimps through the water like a dolphin while fighting against the raid boss with his massive floppy dildo, all while I just zapped the thing with my lasers. It was a shame that the Kraken ate his dick.

The blacksmith returned from the back with a fresh sword. The customers at the counter gawked at it and admired the reflection.

"Smith," I said. "Do you take special requests?"

"No, Redrim," said the Gimp King. "These weapons are unenchanted. What I need is a specially enchanted weapon. That's where the true power lies."

"Does it need to be, you know," I eased in for a whisper, "Like, you know," I made the shape with my hands, "Dick-shaped?"

"Functionally, there is no purpose," he said. "However, it is tradition that dominators such as myself be equipped with a phallic-type primary weapon."

The words left my mouth before they even registered in my mind. "The Phallomancer."

The Phallomancer, the mancer of all things dick-related. The Phallomancer made dicks and dick paraphernalia, yes, but there was no rule that they couldn't make dick-shaped weapons.

The Gimp King felt the words and looked into me with feral, excited eyes. His bulge throbbed eagerly. "The Phallomancer," he echoed.

"The Phallomancer," I said back.

"Could you guys leave?" said the blacksmith. "You're scaring the customers."

We stepped outside while Jenna continued to shop, and we stood with arms crossed and our power stances as men convening on important topics. This topic, however, was of the utmost importance: Dicks.

"The Phallomancer lies far west of here, I'm afraid." I shook my head. "There's no way I can bring the entire ship there, but--"

"A portal," he said as he looked around. "We can hire a porter to send me there, but how would I return?"

"You can pay them extra to create a return portal at a specific time."

He nodded in thought. "Yes. I believe this may yet work. And you're sure he'll make my weapon?"

"Only one way to find out."