We waited nearly forty minutes for the Dismemberment Limited, each preparing in our own way—Carl was reading a Louis L'Amour novel, Donut was practicing casting her Hole spell on a piece of metal and then training Mongo to stick his head through and bite, and I was worrying. All of us were doing our best to seem calm and collected in front of the others, and none of us were convincing. By the time the train finally pulled up we were relieved to get aboard and maybe get murdered if it meant not having to wait for it any longer.

Unlike the stolidness of the colored-line trains, the Dismemberment Limited was a maglev monorail, sleek and futuristic. More importantly, there was only one set of doors and they led into the first car where the driver sat. He was not a ManTauR like Gore-Gore, he was an animated skeleton with swags of drooping skin draped serape-style over it. He didn't attack us when we got on. Instead, he started begging us to get off, saying that it "Wasn't too late" and that we "Mustn't draw him here."

Levi the Seventh – Troll Flesher and Hobgoblin Skellie Symbiote. Level 7.

This is actually two creatures. Only when combined do they have intelligence and the ability to speak. The Skellie is your typical, run-of-the-mill reanimated skeleton. In this case, it's the skeleton of a hobgoblin, one of the few monsters who are much more palatable in skeleton form.

Of all the War Mage spells soldiers encounter during the brutal, mass combat that will occur on the ninth floor, the You're Not Done Yet spell is one of the most terrifying. The spell is cast on fallen soldiers—in this example a Basher Troll—and the flesh is ripped from the body. This loose skin becomes a sentient minion called a Flesher. Fleshers are oftentimes tossed across the battlefield, landing in and around the trenches of the enemy. Fleshers have one goal. To find a new set of bones.

Once they have found a victim, the skin unfurls and pounces, covering the body, smothering and melting it. Once dead, the rest of the victim burns away, and the Flesher casts the only spell it knows: Boned, which animates the remaining skeleton.

The Symbiote that eventually forms is no longer a minion to the original mage. Nor is it undead. It is new to the world, confused and afraid. And weak. The Symbiote is very easy to kill. After a few hours have passed and the new Symbiote is complete, the combined creature becomes a target for other Fleshers, who are said to be drawn to their former companion's new bones. Each time a Flesher kills a Symbiote, the new iteration is more intelligent and powerful than the last.

There are rumors about oft-resleeved Symbiotes. After enough repetitions, it's whispered they can become quite powerful.

Here's a neat tidbit of trivia. This is Levi the 7th. This quest has triggered six times now since the floor has opened.

I hadn't finished reading Levi's description before the doors closed and the train started moving. I'm not sure what I would have done differently if I had, but surely there would have been something. We could have jumped off and come back later, better prepared. Actually, I should have been better prepared going in. For one obvious example, I could have had my map opened all the way out when the train pulled in. It would have let us know exactly what we were facing. Or I could have reminded Carl that his Protective Shell was still on cooldown and therefore we would have no easy way to clear the train if it turned out to be more dangerous than what we had faced thus far. Which, let's face it, we all knew it was going to be. Getting on that train with our best weapon unavailable had been madness. We should have waited.

Time to next stop: 19 minutes

New Quest. Levi is On the Menu!

This is a pass or fail quest. Failure has consequences.

Do not allow Levi the 7th to be devoured by the Fleshers. This quest is active as long as you remain on the train.

Reward: You will receive a Silver Quest Box.

Failure: Every crawler on the train will be turned into a Flesher.

No sooner had the quest appeared in my interface when the door between cars 2 and 3 opened and monsters flooded in. They rushed up the train to get to us but Carl pulled one of his gangway chocks and blocked the door. He and I held the chock in place while the Fleshers, flapping blankets of acidic skin, slapped against it.

And then Dismember the War Mage arrived, striding in from the third car and up the aisle of the second until he came to the slab of metal we were using to hold him back. He hurled magic at the chock, knocking Carl and me back just enough that some of the Fleshers were able to reach around it. We slammed the thing back into place and held it there, but their acid dripped on us. I screamed and nearly jerked back, remembering at the last moment to keep my position. Carl and I together were barely holding off the pressure on the other side and we would have died if either of us had let go, even for a moment.

Donut and Mongo ripped away the parts of the Fleshers that had reached around the barrier. The acid was still burning into my skull and I couldn't spare a hand to wipe it off.

And then the pressure eased slightly as Dismember stepped forward, waving his minions off and giving me just enough time to wash off and wipe away the acid. Meanwhile, Dismember began to talk to us, our heads only a few centimeters apart but separated by the big slab of metal that was keeping him out and us alive. He told us in loving detail how he was going to slowly flay our skins off but he wouldn't let us die, he would enjoy torturing us and...

It was detailed, and lurid, and it was going to live in my nightmares for weeks. At the time I couldn't think of a single reason why it wasn't going to happen. All I could do was hold the chock in place with everything I had—literally. I had transformed, flattening my shoulder and shifting my mass downwards to become a triangular prism so as to better brace the door. That was when the AI stepped in with glee in its voice.

Bonuses deactivated! Debuffs activating in 30...29...

The shoes. I had covered them up when I transformed.

I shifted as quickly as I could, extending a pair of calves backwards with the shoes on them so that it looked like I was kneeling up against the door.

Oooh, yeah, that's niiice. Bonuses reactivated. Rowr.

My skin crawled.

The AI had distracted me for a few seconds. I tuned back in just in time to hear Dismember say "—your eyes on my wall. I will have a minion keep them well lubricated so that you can watch as I—"

"Now!" Carl whispered.

Donut gestured, casting her Hole spell on the gangway chock. A section the size of a manhole cover disappeared, showing us the face of a very surprised elf-like being with flowing silver hair and a needle-filled lamprey mouth.

Carl reached through, grabbed a fistful of Dismember's hair, and yanked his head through the hole. At which point Donut snapped the spell off and the missing piece of the chock returned to existence.

Dismember's severed head dropped to the floor and rolled away.

"What was that, bitch? I didn't quite get that last part," Carl said.

o-o-o-o

With Dismember dead, the Fleshers went berserk, slamming against the chock with renewed vigor, jolting us back again and again. Donut and Mongo were busy clearing away tendrils that got around the chock while Carl and I held it in place. Twelve minutes later, nineteen after getting on the train, we pulled into station 281 and the door to car #2 slid shut, sealing the Fleshers away. Levi was gushing his thanks at us the entire ride; we waved him off and stumbled out the doors.

"We are not doing that again without Protective Shell," Carl said, trudging up the stairs to where the junction area waited.

I nodded in tired agreement. I had woken up from my Good-Rest-inducing nap only a few hours ago, but twenty minutes of terror, pain, and effort had left me feeling wrung out. Carl and Donut appeared to feel the same way. Donut had placed Mongo back in his cage, partially so that he could rest up in the comfort of extradimensional space and partially so we didn't have to handle his squawking and nosing worriedly at his tired mother.

We all went through the showers again to get the sweat off. Afterwards, Carl went out to the saferoom owner to buy some crafting tables. I wanted to sit and decompress, sort my thoughts, perhaps meditate for a bit in order to come back down from the absolute certainty of my own death that I had been experiencing. Unfortunately, Donut and Mongo went into the training room to work on their cavalry tactics and I didn't feel like I could afford to be the lazy one. I followed them in and started working on Catcher again. We had already used our enhanced training session for the day, but the room was still perfectly happy to let us bounce around inside it, and even to give us mannequins to fight.

Three hours later Carl stuck his head into the training room. "Katia," he said. "C'mere. I've got something for you."

I grabbed a towel and wiped off the sweat as I followed him out into the main room to find him standing next to a silver luggage rack with a laundry hamper on it.

"What is that?" I asked, pacing closer. I checked the properties on the thing.

Ugly Ass Backpack With a Completely Useless Design that Only an Idiot Would Wear.

Now that the AI had given me the hint I could see that yes, it was a backpack. It really did look like a laundry hamper onto which someone had stuck two shoulder straps and a belt strap. It stood up, ready to be put on in place while being supported by a frame made out of roughly bolted-together steel bars.

"Ignore the name," Carl said. "Strap in, don't lift it up yet."

I considered asking what was going on but it wasn't worth it. Presumably he would reveal the surprise in his own time. I slid my arms into the straps, buckled the belt on, and stood there looking like a doofus with this thing balanced on the metal frame.

"Good, now stand up."

I stood up. The backpack promptly equipped itself and disappeared into my body the same way all other equipment did.

"Cool," Carl said, satisfaction in his voice. "Put it back on the frame."

I reached for where the belt would be and tugged it loose. The backpack promptly faded back into existence and I set it back on the frame.

"Good, now strap it on but don't pick it up yet."

I did as ordered, feeling more and more ridiculous by the moment. I wondered how many aliens were watching me right now.

"I wanted to make us some armor," Carl said from behind me. There was a clattering noise as he dropped steel rods endwise into the backpack. "I noticed that backpacks are a thing and that they count as equippable. Back on the first floor I found a filing cabinet with stuff in it. Cool thing about the inventory system: If you put a container in you can pull out some or all of the contents, or the container, or the container and any amount of the contents. It's pretty cool. We've been wanting to get more armor on you and this seemed like the best way to do it. Once you've got it equipped you can drop the backpack into your inventory in order to dump all the mass and you'll be able to pull it out with however much or little of this stuff you like, so you can change how much mass you're carrying."

"Carl, the straps on this thing aren't going to take the weight," I said. He'd been adding more and more metal and I could feel the pressure on my shoulders caused by the frame flexing downwards just slightly. "Even if they could, I've been putting my points into Strength but no way can I lift all that."

"It'll be fine," he said. "What you do is make a shelf with your back, sticking under the pack. Then you push the frame aside and the pack will equip itself."

"How does that even work?" I asked. "The top is open."

"I tried it out already and it was fine as long as I put a lip on it. Now, start changing."

Yes sir! Right away, sir! Jerk.

The hamper-cum-backpack came down to the backs of my thighs, making it awkward. I pushed my backside out and split off another pair of legs to provide support as it inched backwards. I could immediately tell that I didn't have the mass.

"This isn't working," I said. "Hang on." I pulled my arms back into my shoulders and shrank downwards. I got rid of my legs above the ankles—gotta make sure the shoes stayed visible!--and flowed backwards in a solid blob that left me looking like a slug-centaur hybrid. The frame inched backwards more and more as I went.

"Carl, I don't know about this," I said. "I don't think I can handle this much."

"You'll be fine. You're stronger than you think. Keep going."

Clicking talons on hard floors announced Mongo's emergence from the training hall, Donut on his back. I glanced over and tried to smile at them as I shifted but my face felt frozen in barely-repressed panic at what I was sure was going to hurt.

"Carl," Donut said, "what are you doing to Katia?"

"She's fine. Keep going, Katia."

"The frame is too tall now," I said. I'd needed to shrink down so low in order to have enough mass for this that the straps were dangling loose over my shoulders.

"It'll be fine. I'll fix it later. Keep your back flat, like a shelf, and push the frame back a little farther. You're almost there."

I could tell that the backpack was right at the edge of its support. I took a deep breath and pushed a little bit farther, straining against the resistance of the backpack's weight. The frame popped free and the pack plummeted thirty centimeters to land on my back.

It felt like having your foot smashed with a sledgehammer, and then there was a click! that I heard with my brain and not my ears. Sound and light and scent were gone, as was the pain.

I couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't breathe!

Panic clawed at me and I reached out, struggling to touch something.

The world snapped back around me but everything was different. I was on my back, embedded in a giant blob of flesh. The lights blared in my eyes and I squinched them closed, shielding them with one hand.

"You're ok," Carl said. "You've got a lot of mass now. Take a moment and figure it out."

I forced myself to breathe. Shamatha breathing, peacefully abiding. Awareness of the breath as it is. Awareness of the body in a natural way.

I went through the sequence: Relax in a wave, starting from the top of the head and moving down. Relax the forehead. Relax the cheeks, the jaw, the shoulders...

After a few seconds I was calm again. I explored my new amoeboid body, learning where the parts of it were. Everything was there—heart, lungs, kidneys, brain, and so on—but there was also this giant blob of what felt like skin and meat but some new sense told me was actually metal.

Slowly, I figured out where everything was and how to get it where I needed it. Within a minute I was back in my own body, slightly taller and wider than I had been.

"This feels weird," I said. "I think I might throw up." My entire body was revolting against its new state. Everything ached or stabbed or wobbled or in some way made its displeasure known.

"Take some time to get used to it," Carl said. "Be sure to keep your flesh pulled into your core at the center and put all the metal on the outside. You've got a ton of extra armor now, so use it."

Duh.

"Thank you," I said. "I really—hang on. A ton of armor? A literal ton? 1,000 kilograms?"

He chuckled. "More like 1,200. I used the dwarf steel we got from those robots, and it's denser than regular steel."

"Katia," Donut said. "Are those yours?"

I looked where she was pointing and saw my cut-off fingers.

My stomach flipped over and ice shivered across my skin. I tasted vomit in the back of my throat and the edges of my vision tunneled down slightly as my heart started pounding.

Carl bent down and swept the fingers back into his inventory. "Sorry," he said, straightening up. "I put them in the backpack. I thought maybe you would be able to reabsorb them like that. I know how you said you were feeling weird without them."

"You've been carrying them around in your inventory?!"

"Yeah. I wasn't going to leave them there on the ground."

...What did you even say to that?

I turned away and shifted back into my Hekla shape, checking my interface to see how good the match was. It was only 60%, not as good as I had managed before, but there was an announcement on my interface.

"This says I get a Strength bonus when I'm carrying this much mass," I said. "And a Dexterity debuff, unfortunately." I moved around a bit, punching the air and kicking and jumping. "I don't feel like I'm moving slower or more clumsily."

"Good," Carl said. He rapped me on the arm, nodding in satisfaction when what looked like skin rang like metal. "Don't forget to protect your face too. Eyes especially."

I nodded absently, more focused on playing with my new abilities than what Carl was saying. I expanded my fists to the size of watermelons and added ten-centimeter spikes. "When the Daughters hear about this they're going to flip," I said with satisfaction. "I wish Fannar could see me like this. I'd like to see him call me useless now." The moment the words escaped my mouth I wanted to bite them back.

Fortunately, Carl and Donut were both utterly oblivious, or else uninterested in getting involved in my horrible breakup story. Which was good, because I didn't want to share it.

What I did want to share was my newly massive fists with some mob's head. I was wearing the heaviest suit of plate mail ever imagined in the history of humanity and I could punch through railroad ties. I was going to be useful!

An overly-enthusiastic punch to the air pulled me forward more than intended. I stumbled, caught myself, and tried to make it look intentional by transitioning into a smashing front kick.

Okay, I was going to be useful after I did some more practicing. Regardless, I could do this. I could make it here in the dungeon.

"Thank you for this, Carl," I said, beaming at him. "I need to go practice for a bit."

I turned and walked back to the training room, a bounce in my step and hope in my heart.