As they walked through the dark corridors lit up only by Thomas’s torch spell, the party made some small talk with Martin and pointedly ignored the two women trying to chime in. They came across a few mobs, but those all turned out to be brindle grubs.

With plenty of breathing space for conversation in between, Martin helped them catch up on a lot of things they hadn’t overheard before. The party had been on the second floor for a day now, and spent about half that time in the camp. Of which eight hours of that time had been spent sleeping.

What time was left had been filled with declining offers to join parties and explaining that Ben wasn't an almoner. He set out to level his Pickpocket skill, and the people only saw the returning of goods without the theft that came before it. And once word spread, it was a desireable non-truth to believe in.

On the floor itself, their initial insights turned out to be correct. The supposed increase of mob levels was nigh non-existent. Most mobs were still level 3-4 of the same kind that they fought before, without a higher rate of more potent foes like the Krutnik crawling around. The bosses were said to be a bit stronger, but that was about it.

Aside from the brindle grubs and how their descriptions suggested they’d eventually turn a lot more dangerous, this floor seemed to be just an extension of the first floor. Convenient for the ones that lagged behind, though the easy to grind rats were now gone. And it allowed those that put the first floor to good use, to take a breather.

Darryl and co, as well as the French, were decisively in the latter category. After grinding the higher levelled Krutnik they were already above all but two that came before them, and killing the Woolf had decisively put them at the top.

Ben was the first to get double digits, while the rest were all at level 9 now. He gained an achievement for getting to level 10 on the first floor for it, but no box. Instead he had been added to a list of fast grinders, though they had no clue how many viewers looked at that list nor the amount of crawlers on it.

Overtaking Elise’s numbers by breaching a million followers while she still dangled at eight-hundred thousand suggested that the board helped, though. They were all doing anywhere between decent and great, as far as they knew, and even Darryl gained a few thousand followers by now.

Martin, their older gentleman guide and wayfarer, wasn’t nearly that far, but like most he didn't have the luxury of worrying about his viewers yet. He was middling for the crawlers that tried and way above the average when counting everyone, and at level 5 he proved to have the necessary mentality to actually go out and fight these monsters.

But like most crawlers he had fallen in the perpetual cycle of mundanity.

Darryl still remembered the tense moment when he feared they might end up in one themselves. Ben and Thomas had both gotten only crappy bronze boxes and the one silver box for finding their first Safe Room, and the latter only gave potions and torches. The weapons they got were crap and even combined they made one halfway decent weapon that they never used.

If Darryl hadn’t gotten that lucky windfall of a Neighbourhood Boss defeated in a particularly unique way, they would've had to use those shitty weapons. They would've gone about things a lot more cautious and slow, which would’ve slowed down their achievement gathering, which in turn would’ve forced them to keep being cautious and not take any risks.

Elise meanwhile gained a platinum box upon entering the dungeon, but if it weren’t for the others she probably wouldn’t have found a tutorial guide nor a stairway before the level collapsed. Not without anything to defend herself with, and a box you couldn’t open wasn’t worth much.

This pitfall was a lot bigger than they initially thought, though, seeing how not just a few but the great majority of people fell into it. And the larger the group, the more likely you were pulled into it.

Copying achievements didn’t yield rewards as good as stumbling upon them on your own. They’d known about that one, but overlooked how penalising it would be for large groups. The most common penalty was that the AI gave you potions and biscuits instead of gear if you were a copycat, and if there was anything that the camp was short on then it was weapons and armour.

There was also a hidden hurdle that they hadn’t even noticed themselves. Gaining skills by act rather than from items apparently got progressively harder with each skill gained. If you fought with your bare hands in the few encounters before finding a Tutorial Guild, then it would become harder to switch over to whatever weapon you got from your loot boxes. Skills like Bareknuckle Brawler and Flesh-rending Fisting would be gained, making it a lot more difficult to gain relevant skills like Thrust and Lone Phalanx if you got a spear.

Darryl had fallen for that one himself, he found. Though the punching and running hadn’t counted for a skill gained, Darryl had gotten the ‘Pugilist’ skill from killing rats. Kicking with his Spartan Sandals apparently counted, because the skill was already level 2.

His situation was peanuts compared to what most non-combatants were dealing with. Many had gotten the completely useless skill ‘Loitering’, which made time pass faster unnoticed if you weren’t doing anything at all. There were also skills called ‘Bitching’ and ‘Whining’ that were often gained together.

A few people had gotten skills like Disengage and Dodge, which were at least somewhat useful. And they finally learned what Elise’s “Damsel in Distress” did; it gave a minor boost to the primary stats of nearby crawlers if you acted panicked, in peril or otherwise distressed.

It was no surprise that Elise hadn’t levelled that skill since putting on the tavern wench uniform, not when she dished out distress instead of partaking of it herself. But unlike that whirlwind of smashing and trashing, some people gained it naturally. A rare few such damsels, and the skill wasn't gender-specific, accompanied grinding parties as a support unit. But the skill pushed them in a different kind of useless by being unable to fight and buff their team at the same time.

Martin hadn’t been caught in that trap, at least, even if he hadn’t been part of the rare few that got good gear and skills. He fell a bit in the middle, carrying a walking cane when entering the dungeon and being one of those people with the guts to kill the aggressive rats and mobs when they began baying around the gaggle of humans.

He'd been part of the big group from the start, back when it were still about 250 people from the streets of Lancaster. Survivors by happenstance by being outside when human society flat-lined, spread out over several blocks. Another two hundred had gathered there without descending, if not more, several of which had been people with limbs severed by cars and streetlights and such collapsing.

He'd waited in line a good twenty minutes before he got to descend the spire of light, and another five squeezing through the door. People kept trickling in until the dungeon closed, and the last few said they had still seen people approach that wouldn’t have reached the spire in time.

A few men including Dave took up the reins of leadership not long after, while several others left to go do their own thing. Some came back, others hadn’t. And then the large unorganised group tried to move, with all the problems to be expected.

They lost over a hundred people to mobs coming from the sides in the first two hours, the combatants being too few and far between to cover all the tunnels that intersected with theirs. The only reason they hadn’t lost more was because the group found a Tutorial Guild by happenstance and huddled around it.

Martin had been one of the people trying to protect the flanks getting there. Armed only with the cane that he came in with, he had to cover an entire opening wide enough for five men by himself while there were three tighter tunnels nearby left entirely unguarded.

Only rats appeared, thankfully, and he killed enough to level once before even taking the tutorial. His cane had splintered from intensive use by then, but he came out with a new cane that had 'subtly' pushed him into the role of scout and messenger.

The dark brown and ivory cane in his hand was the only magic item that the older man had but one, adding an odd stroke of conflicting lavishness to an otherwise humble lower class appeal. It granted him points in Wanderer and Wayfaring, making him very good at walking long stretches and finding his way around. The other item gained after some grinding, a heavy brass ring with a piece of marble set in it, added weight to any attack he made with that hand and weapons wielded in it.

Despite that, he still had to flee more often than fight because he simply didn’t have the skills to face off against more than two small enemies at a time. Dave already noticed before how getting a skill would make you unconsciously act and move with experience and skill that you didn't actually have, like how he instinctly knew his footwork when defending. The knowledge just came naturally and made them more than bumbling buffoons with fancy weapons.

And the knowledge came so natural that it could be easily overlooked just how vital these innate skills were. How much of a bumbling, flinching and hesitant chump the average modern citizen was when they were given a weapon and a few days to get their shit together. Gunther lacked a skill to guide his spearwork, and they all but made fun of his inability to stab at dodging rats or decisively stay in place fighting multiple aggressive foes.

An untrained human who never fought before getting even one or two points in a skill right away was a huge deal to actually fight with finesse, and the party simply hadn’t noticed how screwed you were if you got no combat skills at all. 90% of the camp was screwed like that.

One could tell that Martin worked to overcome the issue though, and since grinded himself to level five. Not many people did that; even amongst those that tried there were many that quickly gave up when they found the challenge unfair.

The two middleaged women trailing them were prime examples of that.

Beth, the loud and extroverted woman, was a somewhat plump brunette with the luck to be carrying her prescription glasses with her when the dungeon happened. A lot of people with contacts were dealing with the issues that came with having to wear the same contacts for days on end, or the bad sight of not wearing them. Despite being spared this fate, the woman was complaining without end about pain caused by the red rims around her nose and ears caused by glasses made for twenty pounds lighter version of her.

Maribelle was less grating, but also the kind of woman that didn’t want to think for herself. She wouldn't understand things in a way that quickly got on your nerves, and expected you to innately desire to be patient and kind to her. While Beth would askmand things of you, Maribelle was clearly raised pampered and simply never learned to consider others while expecting others to consider her.

Together they formed a couple of mutual reliance. Beth had apparently been a looker before her lack of exercise caught up on her, and you couldn’t be acquainted for more than a minute without her bringing it up at least twice. Oh, how tragic her fate that she kept looking for someone more handsome and rich, only to then find herself forced to marry a simple labourer when her looks gave way faster than her ability to tie down someone loaded.

Maribelle was her answer when Beth found the shower of gifts and attention running dry, as the other woman had ripened into her autumn years well. Plucked from her former group of friends when these all got married and had children, Beth essentially recruited a new body to live vicariously through, to receive the attention and gifts that she was still used to. And in exchange, she was the voice in Maribelle’s head that told the other woman what to do and what she should demand without ever rubbing the easily offended woman the wrong way.

Darryl wasn’t an expert on middle-aged women nor certain of all the details that his groups had picked up on or gleaned from the pair, but it felt like an apt description of the two women. They pretty much wore their desires and their expectations on their sleeves, and it wasn’t difficult to deduce the flaws from their boasts and stories.

He wasn’t opposed to letting some other people join their group, but it had been a quick and decisively unanimous decision not to let these women join no matter what. They would never be contributing members, but leeches with loud opinions and demands. Plenty of others more deserving of a third chance.

Because from what Martin told them, the pair had already gotten a second. The two women were both level 2 after entering the second floor without one. They'd taken up a free service aimed at helping people like them, and there were even other options to improve with the aid of others afterwards.

The free service was a couple both romantic and in combat who held a beginner’s hand for a few encounters, and cut them loose once the adventurers got some gear from loot boxes to get started in earnest. It sounded like the couple was afraid to plunge in deeper and fight bosses, losing control of the situation, but it was a noble way to shy away from growth.

It was thanks to them that the two women had gained a level and were both armed, and with the line of others in need of the couple's services Beth knew that she couldn’t beg or demand more from those two. Not after Maribelle got a quarterstaff and she gained a bow, sufficiently arming them to face their own fights.

After that, they could've joined a party or taken off to grind for themselves. And that's where the problem was. They weren’t looking to do any work or join with weaklings like themselves, they set their sights exclusively on joining a group of well-armed people with levels. People that would do the work for them while they could safely leech experience and comfortably grow into a class and useful role.

Darryl's group, decisively the strongest around here with a silver star to confirm it, had gotten plenty of weaklings asking to join. But where the others took the no, these two thought that persistence would pay off.

The final and decisive factor in deciding that these women shouldn't be given a chance had been the lack of bronze stars. They could've gained at least one by now, and shown that they had the guts for dangerous situations. Or at least the insight that there was some give to balance the take. But they hadn't taken up the offer of the second group that was out here helping newbies.

The second group was for those needing another push, and it wasn’t nearly as popular a service as the first. The three men that formed the party known as the Boss Slayerz were capable, certainly, and had five neighbourhood boss kills to their name by now, but their service came with a price. They attacked a neighbourhood boss with an hour notice beforehand, and you either showed up or you didn’t.

There wasn't a word on a plan of how you could help or be protected, instead they expected participants to stay out of their way. They added you to their party and went in, you had to survive the battle on your own while they fought it, and once they were done they took you to a Safe Zone to open your bronze boss box and trade whatever you got to them.

It apparently got ugly a few times when someone refused, and Martin told them of two people that died because they refused to come out of the Safe Zone. The three calmly waited in the Zone breathing down the debtors’ necks and hadn’t left until an hour before level collapse. The other two hadn’t made it down.

The trio was part of the welcoming party that awaited them, apparently. Potentially, at least. Martin told them that the three had sent out their usual invitation, but that there was no trace of them when people found the Boss Room. Mr. Geruet and Raphael weren’t amongst the invitees, but they were close and came to investigate the matter when people raised alarm over the chat.

“And that’s all I know, as I left to fetch you guys immediately after.” Martin said. “We’re almost there, it’s right around this corner.”

The stench of blood and decay hit them before they went around the corner, and when they crossed it they saw a blood-drenched Raphael waiting for them.

“Mystery solved.” The stout Frenchman simply said, not bothering to look up from his axe as he continued to sharpen it.