The boss music still played, and the realization startled me. “This isn’t over yet,” I said. “We’re missing something.” I formed a fist, preparing for an attack. “And what did you mean? What were you wrong about?”
The other dingoes all slinked away. Some bared their teeth at us as they passed, but in a submissive gesture, not an angry one. This close, the massive, 200-pound dingoes were even more terrifying to behold. While they all wore the white face paint, none wore it exactly the same. They congregated at the end of the chamber by the locked door. They scratched at the exit, like dogs wanting to go outside.
The one-eyed dingo who’d eaten Ralph continued to stand where he’d swallowed the miniature boss. He seemed frozen in place. The creature looked at us and started to whine.
Donut looked pointedly at my foot. “It’s a small rodent. Your feet are all nice and shiny. As Miss Beatrice used to say, ‘Time to pay the Daddy tax.’”
“Wait, what? Under what circumstances would she say that?”
At that moment, the dingo’s head exploded.
The creature looked at us, cocked its head to the side, and then boom. Red and white gore splattered everywhere. The still-alive gerbil burst forth, flying directly at my throat. It was halfway across the room before the poor, headless dingo hit the ground. The tiny, furry rocket squealed.
I’d been ready. I Mike Tysoned it with all my strength. The gerbil bounced off the floor with a sickening crunch, sliding until it hit the edge of a cage. Its health was suddenly in the deep red.
It had Stunned over its head with a 15 second timer.
My gauntlet only had a two percent chance to inflict Stun on monsters. I’d never, not once, gotten the debuff to activate until now. With a baleful glance at the ceiling, I took two steps toward the tiny, unmoving form. For a moment, I contemplated just punching it to death.
Time to pay the Daddy tax.
“If it makes you feel better, she was talking about you. You’re the daddy,” Donut said, looking down at the almost-dead boss.
“No, Donut,” I said. “That does not make me feel better. That’s the opposite of making me feel better.”
I placed my bare, right foot upon the small monster.
“Sorry, Ralph,” I said.
46
The dungeon groaned. It fucking groaned.
I sighed as I wiped my foot on the metal bar of the cage. The entire dungeon rumbled as if it was experiencing a small earthquake. My HUD flickered. I felt dirty and sick. I rubbed my foot over and over, but the blood wouldn’t come off.
The boss fight officially ended, and the distant door opened. The thirteen danger dingoes fled into the hallway, scattering away to the wind.
I looted the neighborhood map. Dozens of red dots filled the hallways. These were newly-generated brindle grubs. I watched as the white dots of the dingoes continued to run toward the main artery hall, snatching up and killing the grubs they passed. The dingoes, as a pack, hit the main passage and their dots disappeared.
I wondered what would happen if they ran across another group of crawlers. Probably nothing good, at least not for the crawlers. Either way, they wouldn’t bother us again.
“Let’s see what’s in this main room,” I said.
We stepped over the slagged, still smoldering remains of the kobolds. Most of their bodies had been destroyed. I picked through what was left, looting a few spiked helmets and gold coins here and there. One had a scroll of Heal Critter and a handful of pet biscuits.
The small gerbil cage lay on the floor, undamaged by the fire. I tossed it into my inventory.
The kobold who’d pressed the button to open the cages also had a key. I examined its properties.
Master Pen Key
Opens the individual cages of both the fighters and the bait animals within the kobold fighting pits. This key is magically attuned to the kobold race. If you are not a kobold and attempt to use this key, it will only work once before breaking.
Choose wisely.
We stepped into the arena, and I was immediately assaulted by the stench of death. A small, round fighting arena stood empty. The dirt floor was stained red. Against the left wall stood a pile of bones as tall as the ceiling. Several dozen chairs made of hardened wood circled the arena. I picked them up and looted them all before approaching the line of cages against the back of the chamber.
The moment we approached the cages, each filled with a different type of monster, two achievements popped up.
New achievement! I’ll take the ceramic dalmatian, Pat!
You have discovered a reward room! Scattered throughout the dungeon, reward rooms offer crawlers items generally not available within loot boxes. Most reward rooms only allow one choice. So, if you’re in a party of multiple people, tell them I said you should get the prize, not them.
Reward: Don’t be a greedy bitch. The goddamned room is the reward.
New achievement! Menagerie!
You have discovered a pet reward room. From caterpillars who secrete vodka to basilisks who can turn mobs to stone, a good pet can make the difference between survival and the end of the road. Just remember what happened with Harambe. There ain’t no zookeepers around to shoot the monster’s ass if you bite off more than you can chew.
Reward: You have a key. It opens only one cage. Figure it out, Einstein.
“Well, shit,” I said, looking over the choices. “I guess we’re getting a pet.”
“I get to pick,” Donut said. “The thing said it was my prize.”
“Yeah, Donut. It said the same thing to both of us. It’s trying to get us to fight.”
“Really? Well that was mean.” She gasped as she noticed the very last cage. “Carl, Carl, give me the key!”
There was a line of ten cages. None of the creatures looked particularly impressive. But then again, that gerbil hadn’t looked too impressive either. Still, I suspected since this was only the second floor and the first of these treasure rooms we’d come across, none of these guys were super rare or valuable.
I was hesitant about this. In most games I’d played, you could only have one pet at a time. Would that be the case here? If so, how hard was it to give up the pet? I had no idea.
The first animal was a parrot thing with a long beak, and it was easily the loudest thing here. Its dot was red. I examined it, but the system didn’t give me any info other than its name. Juvenile Riven Wing.
The next was a green slime, then a rat, then a meatball with two legs and a mohawk called a Tummy Acher. Of the first four, only the slime and the rat had white dots. A row of equally-pitiful animals followed, looking up at us, including a white-tagged brindle grub. I thought of those massive, deadly Brindled Vespas and thought maybe that’d be a good choice.
But Donut only had eyes on that last cage.
It was a chicken dinosaur thing with pink, downy feathers. The monster cooed up at the cat, making a chirping noise.
The thing looked pitiful. I immediately saw why Donut liked it. It landed firmly in the it’s-so-damn-ugly-it’s-cute category. It was probably seven inches tall. It stood on two legs and cocked its head at me. The damn thing looked like a raw piece of chicken with a few, random pink-hued feathers attached to it. It had two tiny forearms instead of wings, and a long, serpentine tail. It squawked, opening its beaked mouth, revealing a row of sharp, tiny teeth.