“You have done well to come this far, intruder,” spoke a dark figure from a stone throne before me.

I kept the .50's crosshair on his head. “Evening, count bloodsucker. I know this is a boss-rush floor, but I’m open to talking it out if you don’t want to re-die.”

He looked confused, which did not befit his posh garb and drab throne. He swirled a wine glass full of blood. “How do you so swiftly assume what I am?” he asked, dodging my offer for a truce.

I rolled my eyes. “I’ve been around the block. But let me ask you more questions: Why are you here? This place that I have done well to progress in... do you know where this is? How long have you been waiting? Why don’t you leave? Where are you getting fresh blood?”

He opened his mouth, then shut it and looked to the side. A flustered air washed over him as he glanced about like a chameleon with dementia. I watched his struggle to answer the question burn at his soul. Royal vampires always love mental challenges, and I had somehow thrown the ultimate one his way off the top of my head. Unfortunately, he was getting more and more flustered, and—as it always is in the big open boss rooms—I was the only target for his potential wrath.

On that day, I learned the limits of vampiric reaction time. Despite his stature as an aged and likely experienced individual, the .50 Armor-Piercing-Incendiary-Tracer (API-T) did not care as it zipped through the air at 2900 feet-per-second and turned his head to a fine red mist. His remains went limp as the wine glass clattered to the floor before he turned to dust. On any other day I might have talked him down, but not today. No unnecessary risks.

The wall to my right slid down as I reloaded. I approached the much grander 10-foot-tall steel door and beckoned my mule over from the entryway, only to remember I was alone. With a huff (which set off the cracked rib again) I knocked on the door, finding it to be rather thick steel. My idea would have to wait a little longer as I cranked the latch to trigger the mechanism. I held up the Val in case of ambush, but the floor was being nice about not instantly attacking me.

What awaited me was the most gigantic room so far. The curve-vaulted ceilings caught my attention as I stepped inside, easily 80 feet high and nicely complementing the massive 300 foot square room. I knew why it was so big right away: There was a goddamn dragon in the middle (semantically, a wyvern, but who the hell cares). It was asleep, thank fuck, but still a massive goddamn problem. I stopped for a moment to glance at the 10-foot-tall door, then looked back to the dragon that probably stood thrice that high. I shook my head.

Then I noticed that it was chained in place at the neck… I snuck a glance left and right for nonexistent minions, then tiptoed over to the sleeping beast’s head. Quietly as I could, I pulled out the .50 again and loaded a Saboted Light Armor Piercing (SLAP) round. The breech shut quietly as I held the muzzle up to the top of the dragon’s skull. The trigger squeezed in my finger as the tension built.

KADOOM

Convulsions racked the gigantic, scaly body before me. Then, a black goop oozed from the wound and a terrible smell of sickly-sweet decay met my nose. My eyes went wide and I bolted just in time for the undead dragon to wake up from its slumber. It roared with rotting lungs and breathed fire at me, or, it would have... in life. Instead, it spewed a vile, sulfurous goo that was far too contaminated with its own rotting juices to spark aflame. The floor was slick with it in a wide cone, and I was instantly grateful that shoggoth-stink had already dulled my sense of smell.

I threw the .50 in the bag. Perforation of the brain was already done, so it either wasn’t a zombie, or it actually failed to penetrate point-blank flat-on and there’s no point in keeping on with that strategy. I strategized as I ran while the chained-in-place dragon spewed out the last of its sludge. It coughed, clueing me in on the bodily discomfort it felt or simulated. Right then, my plan materialized. I love it when a plan comes together.

Step 1: Mimic’s dinner, round 2! Depleted of breath-weapon and staring right at me, it was quite predictable what the dragon would do next. One step ahead of things, I chucked a grenade into his gob right as I switched directions to ruin his lead. The resulting explosion in his throat sent more rotting fluids and giblets all across the floor, encouraging me to finish the fight as soon as possible. I moved on to step 2: Blasting its eyes out.

A quick magazine dump from shotty burst both eyes, and, with a bit of logic I figured that only left sound as a practical means of finding my annoying ass. I started juking my heart out as I slung the shotgun and drew the sword. Then I… did something I regretted thoroughly. In an effort to avoid noisy footsteps I… skated across the growing pool of viscous, rotting goo like an ice rink.

It worked… but my poor shoes man. The stink would never leave those sorry leather boots of +speed. Alas, my slipping and sliding bought me a chance to get at the neck. I drew my new sword and swung for the fences, sending that reddish, vorpal energy into its ruined throat as I slid under. It carved right in and made a clean slice into the flesh. That all but confirmed the vorpal nature of the blade as I lined up another pass while the dragon was stunned from the blow.

That second pass completely decapitated the beast, but it had figured out my position and was already reaching forward with its wing to trip me. I went sliding along face-down in the most disgusting moment of my entire life. A fate worse than death. After a while of wallowing in self-pity, I rolled over and flipped the corpse of the dragon a solid double-bird. Then the headless body got up and slipped out of the chain to begin clumsily rampaging around the room.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

……

Only after a complete and total dismemberment did it stop moving. There was no avoiding getting completely, utterly gross in the process. I had accepted the fresh hell presented to me as the sigil appeared in the center of the room. I wiped my hand off on some small part of me that hadn’t been soiled to fetch the field translation guide.

Respite there, something something restoration, aaaand that looks like… next? Process? Progress? Well, there’s nothing harmful in the runes, and there’s no door so… if I die at least I can stop smelling myself.

I stepped into the sigil and instantly burst into flames. I held a deadpan expression as no actual pain registered. Instead, all the disgusting viscera clinging to me evaporated off my body before I felt the lurch of teleportation to the next room. I appeared in a tranquil fake-sunlit underground garden with numerous features that I didn’t even bother to inspect right away. Instead, I sniffed myself all over, picking up only my salty-AF armpits. I clasped my hands together.

“THANK YOU GRUNNUS!”

……

The elation was short-lived as I stared fuming at the wall. The placard translated to ‘Floor 10.5, rest floor 1 of 4’. That math translated to the likelihood of 50… goddamn… floors. I really, really wished that Dro had figured out the translations sooner, and maybe sent someone other than me to discover the absurd shit right in front of me. I decided to cool off and use the features of the room.

First, toilets. Not as Earth had 'em, but better than a latrine or a chamber pot. Second, healing hot spring (sans funky jazz). After a refreshing soak—during which I always had 2 guns in arms’ reach at all times—I was dressed and contemplating my next move. My rib didn't even hurt anymore! I wasn’t tired enough to spring for one of the beds, nor did I trust it without someone to keep an eye on things. The fruits growing on the various bonsai trees and vines were also… untrustworthy. I had a toaster pastry instead.

There was nothing else to slack with. I was ready as I’d ever be… with a far-deeper sense of dread, I moved on down to floor 11.

7 minutes later…

I sat on the stairs back on floor 10.5. Not for any cowardly reason or anything, it just-so-happened that floor 11 was all about swarming enemies, and, well… they just suck to deal with, especially solo. Instead, I tested the newly-dried superglue on the gasmask, plugging a small puncture courtesy of the wasp pixies. The seal was good again and I pulled out a flagrant violation of the geneva convention: Toxic gas grenades. After a good 20 minutes I could wander back down and be mostly free of trouble.

……

Perfect plan! Gassing the pests out for so long apparently embedded the strategy deep in my brain. The dead littered otherwise rather pretty hallways. Moss and vines overgrew the floors, walls and ceilings, thanks to the water seeping in between the bricks and artificial sunlight interspersed throughout the floor. It was stylistically much nicer than the first area, even when viewed through the mask.

I wandered the floor for a while, carefully avoiding the floor tiles that had no plants on them. Imagine forgetting to make traps with non-toxic components in an area that will be covered with vegetation. A sense of aimlessness had come over me; it was just such a big task! Considering how it would get progressively harder, I couldn’t see it ending well at all… or anywhere near the final floor.

A glint of metal caught my eye amidst the vines. I approached cautiously and knelt to find an armored skeleton slowly being overtaken by the plant life. It was stripped clean some time ago. The armor looked familiar as I brushed aside leaves to get a good look at the helmet: A classic Roman legionary helm. I solemnly curled my lip as I checked for a particular scratch on the inside. It had been partly buffed out, but… yeah.

"Oh Barry, always one to get stuck in over your head."

The man was a genius exploiter way ahead of his time, helped me break physics twice! I looked the skull in its eye sockets, then put the helm in my bag. There’d be something I could do with it; a memorial display perhaps? I worked up the nerve to look him in the eye again.

“I love ya, man, but I won’t follow you there, not willingly.” The sense of panic rose up again and I tried to breathe it away. “I can’t do this the correct way, it’s not feasible. How do I break it?”

Silence reigned supreme as the eye sockets stared right through me. I shivered, then checked behind me. There was a door… a steel door. I crept over and rapped my knuckles against it. The reverb sounded like that of a shipping container. I paused for a good long moment, remembering an earlier idea. It was time to gather some information.

……

Sparks flew as a blindingly bright light clashed against both my protective masks. I slowly guided the cutting torch along a rectangle I had sketched with chalk, slowly slicing out a crawl space for myself. After a moment more, the chunk toppled inward and left an opening. I shut off the torch and stowed it after checking the tank pressure (still plenty left since it had the same treatment as the flamethrower).

Minutes later, it had cooled enough to crawl through, so—after checking the corners—I slipped on in. It was a tighter squeeze than I would have liked, owing to my stinginess with the gas, but I managed. The room was… empty. No monster or loot to speak of. Val at the ready, I reached over and worked the latch behind me. Nothing happened. I noticed that it was loose, as if not connected to the mechanism.

With some jury-rigging, I used a bit of rope to activate the outside latch from the inside. I wasn’t about to use my arm after the incident of internal door mechanisms chopping a fiber-optic cam in half. The chunky sound hit my ears as the process I’d come to know began again. My eyes caught motion as a section of wall rapidly shot open and a glowing rod of blue crystal extended out to shoot a beam into the center of the room.

That beam spawned a vineheart and a second beam made a treasure chest. Then the wall shut so perfectly you would never know it moved, all silently and in less than a second. The vineheart—a biological pseudo golem made of loose rock controlled by animate vines—was no concern to me. They were slow and tough, but almost comically vulnerable to a little bit of napalm.

I didn’t even bother with the chest… until I noticed it was the same design as the first mimic, which didn’t look like the other chests. I torched it and moved on to the section of wall that opened.

……

The crowbar pried the stones open barely wide enough to shove a long fiber-optic cam through, and what I saw was exciting! There was a shaft about the size of a chimney going far up and down. There were mechanical devices intermittently placed along the shaft. They matched the one right on the other side. Then, as I was about to pull the cam out to chew on the information, a light entered the shaft.

It was a diamond glow that rose right up to my level. It sounded like an Endor speeder bike, but pitched down a little bit, so I knew vaguely what it was. The thing was a round blue crystal with some hemispherical metal plates on the sides, a red crystal-rod-turret on the bottom, and a blue one on the top. It shot a beam of blue light into the device on the wall, rekindling the faded glow. Then, the crystal-UFO-thing dropped back down the shaft. I pulled the cam out and thought for a moment.

That was a refill! New monsters for the mechanism when the dungeon resets! Then that would mean those are lower floors I saw!

Without hesitation, I fetched a breaching charge. I stuck that bad boy on there and set a 1 minute timer before booking it out of the room. A minute of making distance later and an explosion reverberated through the halls. I sprinted back and saw something unexpected.

The 2-turret crystal UFO was in the room, zapping bits of stone with the red gun-thingy and putting them where they belong on the wall with the blue one. I ducked behind the corner and loaded a SLAP round before peeking and blasting a hole right through the side. The UFO’s central crystal shattered dramatically as it fell to the ground, exploded, caught fire, disintegrated, evaporated, and, finally, vanished with a flash of light.

I reloaded just in time for another to pop into the room. They seemed to have an aggro delay as I blasted three more that trickled in one by one. The fifth was in my sights when it fired at me! The beam struck my gun and it vanished right out of my hands! I ducked back and drew the Python, popping the UFO through the armor gap the moment it came around the corner. When it finished the overly-dramatic death sequence, my rifle was left on the floor with some minor scorch marks. I brushed it off and waited for a sixth… but that was it.

Finally clear of hostiles, I entered the room and carefully inspected the breach. There were a lot of fragments missing, and the stones had caved in slightly, but it wasn’t enough to crawl through when the mechanism was shut. It was, however, big enough to stick a 2-lb brick of C4 into! One refresh on the tinnitus debuff later and I had something I could get through. I got the grappling hook and stuck it on the lip of the breach to start my descent.

I did a mix of rappelling and chimney climbing, a sort of improv that let me keep the Python handy in case of a problem. There was a spawner device every 50 feet or so, and it was too cramped to do anything other than knock them off the wall. Lucky for me, that could be done with some kicking, owing to my reasonably high strength (at least, that’s what the stat card claims).

After far too much descending, I reached the bottom of my rope (200 goddamn feet!). The shaft continued down even further as well! However, much closer than the bottom was the horizontal passageway on the side opposite the spawners, from which had come the UFOs. That was only about another 50 feet.

I pulled out the hammock again and partially unfolded it. Then, I stopped using the rope and relied entirely on my legs. With the tension released, I yanked it three times and the hook disengaged, inverting its claws. It slipped into the tunnel and careened right toward my head. I quickly held the hammock over myself and a rough thump landed in the improvised catch net. After that little ordeal, I stuffed the lot in the bag and resumed my climb down.

……

Fucken hell. The amount of cages was unnerving. They varied between the size of a jail cell, to perhaps an elephant enclosure. Steel bars 1-3 inches thick, beds of hay, tubes for water, and a dispenser of some sort of grey pellet that struck me as rabbit food. More unnerving were the sigils around the cages. I translated a few common words: Sleep, rest, patience, forget, wait, silence… it was all just so creepy man. But when I broke the sigil and climbed on top of a big one? That's when it really sunk in.

It was a cavernous room, dimly lit and extending far off into the shadows. So large that no echo returned to my ears. If I had to guesstimate, the cages were 200 columns wide, 750 rows deep… and about 2/3 filled. Subtract a bit for larger cages and that’s still a fuckload; real Warehouse 13 vibes. I saw sparsely-placed unique cages, some glass, others dark cubes, most standouts simply had differently-colored bars. As I passed between them, I recognized monsters from all across the world. Deep ocean creatures in fish tanks, hell-born beings kept in open flame to stay warm, even a small handful of things from the layers outside functional reality…

It was all too much. I was headed for a nearby off-colored cage, but, in truth, I was lost. Such a massive, impersonal crime for the sake of a single dungeon, the reward to which was likely not worth it in the first place… I felt sad. Thousands of creatures—a significant portion of which were smart enough to have a good talk over dinner with—just sleeping the years away, waiting to be thrown on the end of a sword for the sake of fulfilling an encounter quota.

Then, a large bot came into view, similarly designed but clunkier than the UFOs. I raised the Val and magdumped AP rounds until it was dust. Then two more came and were similarly destroyed at a safe distance. They seemed ill-fit for battle against guns. A rage was coming over me for the injustice of it all. I carried on to the first odd cage.

Inside the snow-white bars was a smoldering round glob of magma, gently breathing. A Magdotra! Lava shapeshifters that live in volcanoes. Quite friendly if you speak their language (they like jokes). I didn’t know the tongue, so I moved on. I needed someone. I couldn’t do this alone.

……

Many poor options passed me by. Species that could be friendly, sometimes… others I couldn’t communicate with, most… simply ravenous beasts. At least almost everything was asleep. On the verge of giving up, I ran across a giant, curled-up, scaly noodle. Something about it tickled my memory. The sunny khaki color with dazzling blue stripes on the back… and a paddle-tail! An azure-striped sea naga! I got out my crowbar and poked the curled snek.

“Hey, wake up!” I whisper shouted.

The balled form roused and the humanoid-ish head poked out, then lunged at the bars, mouth open. There was a crash as they recoiled from the pain, holding their head in their hands. I backed off as the snake person regained their senses slightly.

“Who… human?” he groaned.

“Hey, hey! Focus! What’s your name?” I asked as I pried a brick from the floor, breaking the sigil.

“It’s… I’m…” he trailed off for a solid minute. “Ettrel. I am Ettrel.”

I knelt by the cage, staying out of arm’s reach. “Good. I'm Dennis, it's nice to meet you, Ettrel. Are you hungry?”

“Starving!” he whined.

“And the grey, that is food?”

Ettrel slammed a scaly fist against the cage floor. “NO! It is sustenance, not food. It keeps me alive, but I starve every moment of this.”

I nodded quietly. Sea nagas are a wonderful, tribal people. Perfectly affable, unless starving, in which case they will quite readily eat people to sate their hunger. I wanted to help him, but I couldn’t justify it unless…

“I have a very important question for you, Ettrel. Your people settle volcanic islands. Did yours have Magdotra?” He nodded. “And did you learn their language?”

“I did. Nulke vertoppa masi.”

“Good enough,” I said as I handed him a can of sardines I’d brought more for bait than food.

……

After some convincing, Ettrel had eaten a serving of the rabbit food to supplement the tin of sardines, can of chicken soup, and pack of saltine crackers. I finished cutting his escape, as all the cages had no doors. I’d also relayed the plan.

Minutes later, we were at the Magdotra cage. I was slowly slicing the heat-resistant bars as Ettrel explained the situation to the vaguely interested amorphous elemental. The bars fell away and we fed it some bricks and a few normal steel bars. And then there were three.

The plan set in motion. We killed a dire boar, fried it up on Flambae (yes, that’s its name), and used the meat to feed any intelligent monster we could talk to. Then, Flambae or myself would cut the bars. It was slow going… until we found a second Magdotra. We had three teams within the hour, and five thirty minutes later. Soon, it was twelve! Everyone wanted to escape above all else, 8 species of beastmen, golems, elementals, two giants, changelings, undead of all kinds, even a dryad! She was growing fruits and nuts for the herbivorous monsters almost immediately (she ate the meat though, nature do be crazy).

When we met back up at the selected time about 3 hours in, 30 teams showed up! Over 100 creatures, each incredibly grateful, gathered around me to give thanks. A full-scale jailbreak was going on, and there were no more wardens! Apparently, it was only the nine or so bots watching over the place, a huge oversight all things considered. Then, I felt the strain of my day wearing on me.

I addressed the gathered crowd. “I… thank you all for taking up the cause. Seeing so many peoples of such wide origins working together to free one-another from unjust bondage… it brings a tear to my eye.” I looked down. “I am… weary. It’s been a long journey. I have fought a hundred battles today alone. I need rest. Please, carry on this burden for me.”

Ettrel, by then an impromptu lieutenant, placed a hand on my shoulder. “You were the spark, we are the flame!” He turned to the crowd, raising a fist. “We will not stop until this institution of cruelty is burnt to the ground!”

Cheers erupted as more bacon was passed around before the teams split up to resume the lord’s work. I was left with a small base-camp unit, which was clearing cages to make a work/rest area and accumulate food. Then, the dryad—Auseta—approached me.

“How about… a bed of moss, and… some berries waiting for you, for breakfast?”

I set the A5 on safe before I started to cradle it. “That sounds… nice. Can it be strawberries?”

“Of course,” she cooed softly.

……

I was back home, riding my bike through the neighborhood with the gang. We were arguing about who would win, Master Chief or… who was it? Ezio? It was someone who obviously didn’t compare whatsoever, but the debate somehow persisted for hours. It wasn’t resolved before mom called me home. I got home, brushed off, promised to work on the new grass stains on my pants, then headed to the table for dinner. There was pizza. It smelled like strawberries…

Strawberries?

My left eye peeked open to see a sliced strawberry being wafted under my nose. I brushed the wooden hand aside and slowly sat up before popping my back. The dryad pressed a wooden bowl into my hands filled with two-dozen plump berries. At least that little bit of innate magic worked. I rubbed my eye to get the lay of the room.

The rest area had grown considerably. There were three grilling operations running off of the cages that had immolated floors. The whole place smelled like unsalted, spiceless meat. Groups of monsters and assorted nonhumans moved about, leaving a conspicuous berth around me. There was a cluster of beds made from stacked hay where many were snoozing. Some of the UFO bots were buzzing around, but they were not engaging with us and nobody seemed to pay them any attention.

“How long was I out?” I asked as I checked my watch for the first time in just about forever.

The dryad brushed a clump of moss out of my hair. “About six hours. Would you like to know what has happened?”

“Of course. Catch me up to speed.”

She clasped her hands together. “We are up to a full one-hundred-seven teams now. Each is assigned to a pair of columns. They have been going row-by-row from one end to the other and are more than two-thirds done. There is a pool of translators and specialists, and a passel of runners to relay messages. A special team has been assembled for the little cages, which we found stacked off to the side. They are finding a fair number of fae.”

I idly snacked on the strawberries as I nodded along. “How many saves are we up to now? And why does nobody care about those things being active?” I said as I gestured to the UFOs.

“Ah, yes, the crystaline devices. We released a half-dozen brassblood faeries and a leprechaun gatemaster. The workshop where those machines were disassembled was also found. Those two occurrences came together and now the brassbloods are able to control the things. They are emptying out the monsters poised to be deployed in the shafts. Well, half of them are. The rest are mapping the tunnels and seeking an exit. As for how many of us? I would have to guess… eight-hundred so far?”

……

Her explanations went on for some time. Escape plans were made already, but nothing was one size fits all. Sects had formed, eleven of them, each led by someone different. That worried me, but everyone had a common enough goal: GTFO. An hour later and a brassblood came rushing back with news. She’d found a tunnel out (for the UFOs)! That’s when plans started kicking into motion.

The leprechaun announced that he knew a very particular mass-teleport spell that was made for pulling fae out of the shimmerlands. He stated that all fae and fae-associated beings were welcome to take that route. I was invited, of course, but I had to decline. They were shocked! An explanation was demanded.

“Look, I have to be truthful. I was sent here to clear the Tomb of Instability. I had no idea this mess of cages and cruelty even existed. I have done what I can for you, not because I was tasked to do so, but because I had the opportunity to. My mission, however, is incomplete.”

There was some brouhaha that it was all spur-of-the-moment, but it was rightly pointed out that, by not being tasked with their rescue and instead doing it in spite of my true mission, I had even higher moral standing than assumed. So, the new plan: The brassbloods would soon start zapping up people into the machines, then zap them out at the entrance of the tomb, rinse and repeat ad nauseam. This would exclude anyone using the leprechaun’s out, which he would perform in a corner of the warehouse. (Apparently it still exploded as magic does, but teleports everyone out before the boom.)

It was all so industrial, so self-sufficient. I finished my breakfast of berries, fried meat, and an energy drink, as the explanation turned to the water supply; a boring but vital footnote (TL;DL, about 2 million gallons drinkable due to a reserve pool). The talk was interrupted as a brassblood approached me, flying her UFO turned 90 degrees on its side with a hemispherical armor plate replaced with a dainty little control platform full of levers and wires.

“You, human. Dennis, right? I’m Coppernose. I need to know: How did you kill the active warden machines?” she asked with her surprisingly assertive little voice.

I patted the A5. “My ranged weapons have worked consistently, why?”

“There are six larger units rebuilding the towers! We need you to destroy them before they cause more problems.”

I stood up from the soft seat of moss and patted the dryad’s shoulder. “Thanks for filling me in… and up.”

“Anytime,” she responded in a particularly attached tone that made me… not want to take her up on it again.

Somewhat disregarding the clinginess (what did I expect from someone with literal roots?) I turned my attention to Coppernose. “Alright, I’m ready to go, but what’s the deal with getting me up there?”

“Just hold still and close your eyes, it’s a bright flash,” she said while extending a finger toward a big red button.

Oh boy, time for the pokeball experience!

……

I rubbed my eyes, having been vaguely aware of time passing in a shimmering blue stasis, but not entirely cognisant. I was on one of the wrecked towers. They were donuts it seemed; completely hollow in the middle for the UFOs to fly out of. I got my bearings, seeing Coppernose pointing at the six larger units buzzing about to fix a single tower across from us. I sized them up and produced the Val with some AP ammo.

“If they get too close, do you think you could zap me up and move me further away?” I asked while lining up the first.

“I don’t see why not,” the little brassblood answered, tension carried through her words.

I took off the safety and heard the soft shtup shtup as I sent some hate downrange. Oh, my god, their acceleration is awful. Or… was. I downed two in the ambush phase, three more before they made it to my tower, and the last a hair before Coppernose would have zapped me away. I heard jingling by my ankles as I reloaded and looked down to see the fae clutching a spent 9x39 casing. She wrapped herself around it jealously, like some sort of body pillow.

“Polished brass containing…” she swiped the interior with a finger and stuck it in her mouth. “Whoa, that’s complex. Some sort of cellulose?”

She zipped up to the val on my chest to stand on the charging handle, then licked the dust cover. “Steel? Good steel. Are any parts made of aluminum for weight? What is the maximum rate of repetitions? How many cycles can this weapon sustain before requiring maintenance? How is the explosive sound reduced to near-nothing? What is the count on springs, moving parts, and total parts? What is the effective range of this weapon? What–”

I gently wrapped a hand around Coppernose then slowly removed her from the rifle and held a finger to her mouth. “Shush. Let me answer a more basic question. This is a gun. The gods banned guns unanimously. You cannot create or possess a gun without being smitten.”

Coppernose looked down at my chest, then back up. “Except you have one.” She thought for a moment. “Ohh, clever, Shimmerlands have no jurisdiction! No way you made this, tools don’t exist. Made with magic! In the border zone?”

I refrained from answering, instead, I shook my head and began to move on to another matter when she expressed her shockingly high strength by prying my hand open and leaping to the scope with a buzz of her sheet-aluminum wings.

She squealed in delight. “OPTICAL GLASS! RANGEFINDING MARKERS! WHAT UNIT OF MEASUREMENT DOES THIS USE?”

Frustrated, I grasped her metal-plated body more firmly. “COPPERNOSE! I need you to focus for a minute.”

“But I am–”

“No, no, listen. I need a favor from you next. I need to get to the bottom floor of the Tomb.”