It took several promises to calm Belial down, including helping him submit a screenplay he was writing for his very own soap opera, which I would have to do as soon as this whole tower thing was through. I couldn’t help feeling played when his sobbing stopped as suddenly as it began, his long, drawn out sniffles ceasing the moment we’d struck a deal.

  With Belial’s tantrum ended, I turned my attention to the other child in my care, unzipping my pocket and allowing Waffle to clamber out and onto my lap. He sniffed the air curiously before pulling his face away from the tiny collar dangling on my finger. I held it closer to him, watching him back away uneasily. It took a little coaxing, but I finally managed to get Waffle to don his collar. Well, I slipped it over his head, the collar sort of did the rest. He let out a panicked squeak as it tightened around his neck, tumbling onto his back and clawing at the velvet strap with his hind legs.

  “You have to wear it.” I chided, as he chittered in protest. If the collar was as good as Belial explained, I wouldn’t need to worry about him being eaten by something else. When Waffle felt threatened, the spikes would jut out, injecting something called a neurotoxin, like the one in my hammer’s handle. It also wouldn’t activate while Waffle was on my person, which was good to know. I tickled his belly with my finger as he continued rolling in my lap, squeaking objections. I almost considered removing it, until I remembered how awful it felt thinking he’d been killed by the vine. “It’ll keep you safe,” I insisted, gently guiding his hind legs away from the collar.

  There were several more items in the purple box. Reaching inside, I held up a tiny bottle, waiting for Belial to translate the symbols.

  “It says; MarsupiaNurture baby formula Gen 4 by BioLife. It seems they’ve opted to sponsor young Waffle here.”

  Sponsor…Waffle?

  “Yes.” Belial said, letting some jealousy seep into his voice. “It says not to worry about using it all up, they’ll replenish your supply until he outgrows it.”

  Wow.

  Cautiously I held the bottle towards Waffle’s face, my chest nearly bursting open from the cuteness as he clutched the rubber nipple with all four paws, steering it towards his mouth. He seemed to have forgotten about the collar entirely as he inhaled the bottles contents before sprawling out in my lap, belly full.

  The prize box contained several more bottles, along with a leather pack to carry them. I buckled it around my waist, gently slipping Waffle into my dress pocket and zipping it mostly closed as I stood.

  Where do you think we should go now? I asked Belial, frowning as I took in the ruins. I counted more than a dozen armored corpses littering the camp. If they were overrun this easily, where was I supposed to sleep? One of the dead guards still clutched his weapon.

  “May as well try to find the entrance to level three since there’s nowhere safe to stay here. By the way, I don’t think any of the guard’s weapons will work for us. The system is marking them as incompatible.”

  What about Lord Caelan? Shouldn’t we wait until we hear from him? I knelt beside the nearby corpse, ignoring the bloody mess inside the helmet as I rifled through the dark pack strapped around its hips.

  “I suppose we could—ugh. What are you looking for?” asked Belial, sounding grossed out, likely from my proximity to the corpse.

  Food. I need to eat too, remember? I held up an item wrapped in some kind of silvery plastic, recognizing some of the letters. What’s pro…tien? It slipped from my hands and onto the ground, my eyes bulging at the fact that I was reading.

  “Finally noticed, did you? I figured it would be a good time to teach you to read so I don’t get stuck identifying all the little demon’s prizes. I’m about halfway through the alphabet, give me a few more hours to transcribe the rest.”

  My eyes' attention immediately went to the numbers in the upper right corner of my vision. There was a little shield next to one of the words there. Arm-or. Armor.

  “Very good! Look at you, reading at the level of a 5-year-old.”

  I ignored the jab, eyeing the number to its right, noticing it’d changed from the symbol it was previously. Hey, wasn’t my toughness 8?

  “It was, before you put on those dreadful looking pauldrons. Now it’s 23.”

  I shook my head, deciding to ignore that fact that he hadn’t bothered to tell me. That’s an increase of 15…isn’t that really good?

  “I never said they were bad, I said they looked tacky. I mean, what are we doing, searching for the holy grail?”

  My eyes drew together at the reference, before I decided to ignored it. If Belial had mentioned it, whatever he was talking about probably wasn’t even the least bit relevant. Do they do anything? I mean, other than protect my shoulders and add to my toughness?

  “As a matter of fact, they do!”

  I sighed, realizing he was going to make me try to read about them myself as a window appeared in my vision. It featured an outline of the shoulder pads along with a few paragraphs of text. Squinting, I realized I could make out more than half the letters. Despite that, I hadn’t had any real practice stringing them together before. Can you just—

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Fine,” Belial said, sounding a tiny bit annoyed, “Steel pauldrons of auto-stim. When user is paralyzed or poisoned as a result of a nerve agent or otherwise takes damage that would, if un-treated, inevitably result in the user’s death, the Steel pauldrons of auto-stim will inject a syringe into the user’s neck, delivering a potent cocktail of stimulants, coagulants, and pain suppressants directly into the bloodstream. This solution can neutralize most toxins and will direct cells around any wounds to rapidly heal. Disclaimer: In certain situations, The Steel Pauldrons of Auto-Stim? may fail to activate, in which case, Armcorp cannot be held legally responsible. Temporary side-effects include: dizziness, nausea, and irrational beliefs that you are invincible. If you’ve been screaming for more than four hours, seek medical treatment immediately. Before using The Steel Pauldrons of Auto-Stim?, consult with a healthcare provider if—”

  Okay, okay! I rubbed at my temples, starting to get a headache at Belial’s rambling. He made an offended noise at being cut off, one I ignored as a new thought came to mind. Don’t you think Lord Caelan should’ve contacted us by now? Even if we skipped a floor, that wouldn’t change how much time had passed. I was starting to worry. Not for his sake but, given the state of the safe zone I was standing in, we needed his knowledge if we were going to survive.

  “I didn’t want to say anything but, yes, it is. He’s about 40 minutes late. Initially I chalked that up to him seeing us occupied with that vine-tree-thing, but now I’m not so sure.”

  Do you think whoever sabotaged my pod got to him?

  “Possibly, though, whoever they are, they’d need to get past Oren and Corin first. I think it’s more likely that something unforeseen is preventing him from contacting us telepathically.” I nodded. From what little I knew of them, getting past those two was no easy task.

  Could it be the tower? I mean, if it can read my thoughts, or make me see things, then maybe it’s stopping Lord Caelan’s messages from reaching me.

  “Perhaps.” Belial said, sounding like he was deep in thought for a moment. “It’s hard to say given how little we know about it, but it’s not inconceivable. For now, I say we find the entrance to floor three and camp out there. We should still have a few days before anyone else makes it this far, and I should be able to keep lookout through your subconscious while you sleep.”

  Before we set out, I wanted to loot a few more guards for supplies. I paced the area, frowning as I noticed most of the corpses were too crushed for anything on them to be salvageable, looking as if someone had wrung them out like wet towels. Only about half seemed mostly intact, or at least weren’t too badly mangled by the vines. I came up with a total of three strangely wrapped blocks of food, along with some wiring from one of the helmets that Belial said may come in handy later.

  You sure the third floor is this way? I asked, skeptically. Something about Belial’s level of confidence set off alarms in my mind. He had to be guessing.

  “Of course I’m guessing! Without Lord Caelan telling us where to go, we’re both guessing.” he replied, with his typical level of snark. “Unless somehow you know something I don’t?”

  No, but it seems like you just picked the direction opposite the way we came in.

  “And? It’s only logical that the stairs to the next floor be as far as possible from the entrance.”

  But we didn’t come up the stairs.

  “Duh. My plan is to find the far wall and circle the tower until we find it.”

  How do you know either entrance will be along the wall? I let out a breath as I waited for Belial’s chorus of irritated noises to stop. Done? I asked when they finally did.

  “Ugh. It’s not like I have much to go on here. If you have any better ideas, I’m all ears.”

  What about these guys. I knelt beside another one of the dead guards, cringing at its missing legs as I examined the armor. It seemed mostly intact.

  Belial rattled out a single laugh. “What are you going to do, raise him from the dead so we can ask him directions?”

  No, I just figured since you’re so good with networks or whatever, you might be able to—

  “What, hack inside their suits and upload a simple subroutine to search for information about the location of the stairs?”

  Uh. Yes?

  I raised an eyebrow as he rattled off a series of muffled curses, a few of which I actually recognized, likely thanks to his imprinting words in my mind. The fact that he prioritized curses over words that might actually be useful was about the level of seriousness I’d come to expect from him.

  “I could,” he huffed.

  Okay…then why don’t you? Wait, are you just upset because you didn’t think of it first?

  “NO,” he pouted. “Okay, yes. Anyways, I’m done so we can go. The stairs are this way.”

  I blinked as Belial projected a yellow arrow in the center of my vision. Smiling, I noticed it pointed a considerable degree away from where we would have travelled, if not for my idea. Something on the guard’s helmet caught my eye before I stood. I fell back to my knees, leaning over the body to examine something shiny on the helmet. Wait, do their helmets have eyes?

  “What?” Belial asked, sounding confused by the question, “No, typically it’s the people wearing the helmets with the eyes—oh, you mean cameras. Yes, why?”

  How hard would it be for you to watch them if we aren’t nearby?

  “There might be some latency but aside from that, not hard—I see.” My eyes went wide as Belial began to cry, likely from not having thought of this either.

  “NO,” I panicked, not wanting to sit through another one of Belial’s depressive episodes. Don’t cry. You’re the one who taught me about cameras, remember? It’s practically your idea, I’m just…applying your brilliant teachings.

  “You’re just saying that,” he croaked.

  No, really! I don’t expect you to know everything. He let out a slow, stuttered breath that legitimately worried me. I let my head droop in frustration, waiting awkwardly for him to calm down.

  “I should know more than someone who graduated from the middle-ages two weeks ago.” He muttered before I heard what sounded like him blowing his nose? “I’m useless! You’d be better off without me.”

  “No! I can’t do this without you.” I said, throwing a hand over my mouth when I realized I was speaking out loud. That was all you in the pod remember? I’d be dead like 3 times already if not for you.

  “Five times.” He corrected, sniffling.

  Exactly. Now show me how awesome you are by stealing this guy’s eyes. I patted the corpse’s helmet.

  “It’s called hacking…and fine.” Belial said, sounding a little less gloomy. “This one’s done, I’ll need you to get closer to the others—also,” he started, almost cheerfully now, “we might want to take one with us to use later.”

  Good idea. I nodded, already imagining a dozen uses for an extra set of eyes we could plant basically anywhere.

  “Well, of course it is.” He huffed without a trace of sadness, as if the last five minutes of crying hadn’t happened. “I did think of it, after all.”

  I laughed, rolling my eyes as I got to work.