My steak was amazing which, considering our interstellar visitors could read my memories, was only to be expected. I had a quick look around the room but there was nothing lootable. The pictures would’ve been worth a pretty penny to any art vendor. I wasn’t tired, so I left the luxurious suite behind. Stepping back into danger, the temperature dropped slightly. I’d not noticed before that even the dank dungeon’s temperature was fairly well regulated.

I could hear faint screeches that reminded me of what I faced.

“Suck it up, buttercup.”

As the door closed, I found myself equipped with the torch and dagger once again. Turning right, I moved off in search of fresh prey. I disposed of several more ratlings without the same squeamishness as before. Their shrill death cries still grated on my sympathy nerves, but I squashed it down. I found more tails, furs, and healing potions on their bodies. I now understood what Bart had meant about stocking up and taking the loot with me. The healing potions alone would ensure a better chance of survival when we picked our starter world.

“Please, not the Happy Happy Fun Land. For the love of god, anything but that!” I begged the other adventurers, hoping my telepathy would work on them.

The carbon copy passages started to test my patience. I noticed that the same looking clumps on fungi would periodically reappear as I was walking. So too did the small, colourful stalactites that sprouted from cracks in the ceiling. On closer inspection, they were the exact same objects.

“You didn’t put much effort into this place, did you?” In a memory throttled computer game it was forgivable, but not in here.

My fog of war was slowly retreating and I found that my back and forth route had revealed a square maze with only one exit. On the periphery of my available view, there was another area parallel to what I deemed the starting zone. I hated the linear feel of the dungeon’s railroading progression. My idea of gaming heaven was a fully immersive open world where I could go where I wanted and if a giant should send me into the stratosphere with a swing from their tree club, so be it. If I didn’t have so much to gain from crawling this particular dungeon, I’d already be looking for ways out.

The long corridor to the next area carried the stench of carrion. I could see trails of long dried blood on the ground, the brown crust turning to dust under my feet. Who or whatever had been dragged through, it had been a long time ago.

No it hadn’t, I corrected myself, because this place didn’t exist yesterday.

Quite why my brain went into realism defence mode, I couldn’t say. I actually wanted to immerse myself to a certain extent. It would help keep me sharp when the real danger appeared.

I could make out the deeper timbre of a new enemy. It chittered a couple of times and then fell quiet as if it sensed my approach. I crouched again, with the express goal of testing the mob scrutiny function. I looked around the corner into a small chamber. The rat within was twice the size of its smaller brethren. Perched atop a nest of moist twigs and moss, it sniffed the air, trying to catch my scent as it sensed something amiss. I caught sight of human bones meshed into the overall construction of its den. Pushing down my disgust, I concentrated on the beast.

Name – Rat Matriarch

Description – Nestmother to the ratling swarms. When she’s not fornicating and churning out babies, she likes nothing better than snuffling through raw sewage for some tender morsels that you flushed away. Usually sweetcorn.

Weakness – Fire

Immunities - Disease

Ok, I thought, closing it down. That was pretty easy.

I had more torches than I could count, so I reached back and lobbed the one in my hand. It thudded into her side and fell amongst the moist bedding. I’d assumed it was water, but the whole thing went up like it was doused in petrol. Blinded by the fire, the burning matriarch ran in a circle, her health bar ticking down rapidly. With a final shriek, she keeled over and crisped. At least the smell of burnt fur overwhelmed the stench of rotting flesh. The fire in the nest died away in typical game-like fashion, leaving the loot ready to collect. As I fully stood up, leaving whatever level of stealth I’d had, an almighty din of shrieking broke out. I hadn’t noticed the small apertures sat against the floor all around the room. The ratlings flowed out like water. Two, then five, then ten, all with murder in their beady little red eyes. I backed up in fear and equipped another torch. I looked at the dagger and decided to swap that out too. They followed me into the narrow passage and met my flailing weapons. I beat those little bastards like drums, two whacks each, straight to the back. Even with my new propensity for merciless destruction, I couldn’t hold them all back. They went for my legs to cut me down to their size. One fastened on each of my ankles, their jagged teeth tearing skin, muscle, and tendons. I crashed to the ground and shuffled myself back against the wall, crying out in pain as their thrashing bodies worried my flesh like fucking terriers.

I simultaneously activated a healing potion and dropped both of the blazing torches into the mass of ratlings. They scuttled backwards, leaving my two hungry hangers on who were battling with the effects of the curative remedy to finish me off. Another thought brought my dagger and a fresh torch to bear. I stabbed at the first rat, catching it in the head. The single blow was enough to kill it and I saw a crit icon flash in my vision. A sustained press of the torch finished off the second. I climbed to my feet on unsteady legs as the wounds knitted themselves closed.

“Come on, you furry bastards!”

They made the mistake of coming at me one by one, each receiving a jab in the eye with the pointy end for their troubles. With a final twitch of its hind legs, the last ratling died and curled up. I was battered and bleeding again. It occurred to me that I might not be cut out for the dungeon crawler life. Nearly every encounter I’d come up against I’d managed to mess up. It was tempting to go back to the safe room and just zone out for a while in front of the fire. I wasn’t normally one for self-pity, but those sewer dwelling shitbags had knocked my confidence. The pain was fleeting, but it still hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Was my bad luck down to my low wisdom, or just a quirk of fate that everyone else going through the trial was encountering? I might’ve nearly died again, but I’d learned another valuable lesson. Always check out your surroundings.

I recalled Bart’s mention of this being a teachable moment and felt like a toddler nursing a stinging palm.

After looting the bodies of the minions, I then moved on to big-momma.

Corpse - Rat Matriarch (Level 2)

Item – Matriarch Bile (common)

Type – Crafting

Description – The digestive juices of a mother who will never again see her children. You monster. Mix with other ingredients for varied effects.

Requirements – None

Effect – ???

Misc - ???

Item – Matriarch Fang (common)

Type – Crafting

Description – Fangs of a matriarch. You know where they’ve been, right? Mix with other ingredients for varied effects.

Requirements – None

Effect – ???

Misc - ???

Item – Matriarch Milk (common)

Type – Crafting

Description – Drawn from the mammaries of a mother rat. This stuff tastes great on cornflakes.

Requirements – None

Effect – ???

Misc - ???

I assumed the missing information would become evident once I started to play around with the materials.

Item – Beggar Loafers (common)

Type – Clothing

Description – Fragrant footwear of Harold the Beggar. Last seen entering the tutorial dungeon. Ignore the toe jam. Consider it Harold’s gift to you for avenging his death.

Requirements – Str 1 Dex 1

Effect – None

Misc – None

As much as I was loathe to try them, I needed some protection for my feet. I slipped them on and retched at the slimy, damp feel.

“Thanks, Harold.”

I picked the nest clean and found another sixteen copper pieces, which made me about as rich as the dead beggar whose skeleton had been weaved into the nest.

This portion of the dungeon was similarly maze-like and I encountered a dozen more ratlings before reaching the second nest. The matriarch was asleep this time, snuggled amidst the twigs and moss. The same tunnels surrounded her lair, so I opted for a different tactic. I moved with care, laying a lattice using the dozens of torches I’d claimed. It formed a neat little row of fires at the chamber’s entrance. Summing another torch, I gripped it firmly and whistled. She awoke in an instant, notably more aggressive than her predecessor. Hissing, she charged as far as my blazing barricade.

“Ha! Not so clever now, are you?”

She glared at me and jumped.

I yelped like a girl and stepped back. More out of shock than skill, I swept my right arm defensively, accidentally burying the dagger to the hilt in her head. The same crit icon flashed, and I realised the enemies were susceptible to major damage multipliers provided I found their weak spot. She fell dead at my feet as her brood swarmed from their hiding places. The memory of the last attack was still fresh, and I almost fled back the way I’d come, fearing they too would jump over my fiery shield. Instead of leaping the fire, the lower level mobs gnashed their teeth and glared at me on the other side of the blazing barrier.

I uttered a rather more cautious, “Ha!” and waited for the flying teeth. They only ran back and forth, snapping at each other in frustration.

Rejoicing at my genius, I almost forgot about the vile ooze squelching against my feet. Within the frenzy of movement, several of the ratlings were pushed forward against the flames. Six of the creatures fried without me having to do anything. The remaining four were far more careful. They hissed and spat at me.

“Don’t you get pissy with me! You were the ones who killed your brothers and sisters!”

I felt it was my duty to reunite them, so I liberally tossed torches until the whole room looked like a giant had lit a box of matches and then dropped them. In less than two minutes, the group were all dead. That had been the easiest fight by far, barring my lucky strike at the mother. The clean-up was just a simple case of mass collecting all the tossed torches and loot as I moved around the room. The light dimmed significantly once the flames were all safely extinguished and slipped into my pack. I was nearing thirty healing potions and the craftables were stacking up. The matriarch’s corpse had another bit of kit that I collected.

Item – Harold’s Trousers (common)

Type – Clothing

Description – A pair of patchy, loose fitting trousers. Just, er, try to ignore the stains. Probably best to hold your nose too.

Requirements – Str 1, Dex 1

Effect – None

Misc – None

“Am I a joke to you?” I asked the overlords.

This time I tried equipping the disgusting garment directly from my inventory. They appeared like magic on my legs, slightly less moist than the shoes. I took one step out of the chamber and a low cry caught my attention behind me. It was coming from the nest.