“Frank!” I cursed.

  I found out what Critical Thinking meant by “each instance” as five needles blasted me in the face. I spun away from the needling bastard and brought my arms up to cover my head.

  More pricks tagged me in the back as I scrambled for a plan. I inched sideways until I found a wall.

  I growled when I couldn’t come up with anything. They had me pinned down, and it was way too franking dark to even see my options.

  “How the hell does this thing even know where I am? I can’t see shit in here.”

  Dickhead responded, “It’s probably another beast with blindsense, or it has a class with access to it. If you run out of options, you could try out the wand. It is a sparkler, after all.”

  I really didn’t want to use the stupid wand. But Dickhead was right; I had run out of options. Another whistle, and a barrage of needles pelted me up my shoulder and arm.

  I couldn’t wait any longer. A few seconds was all it took them to reload. I had to act fast.

  The blurple monstrosity appeared in my hand while I spun around, aimed it, and uttered the dumbest franking phrase of my life, “Bipbity-Bopbity-Boo.”

  A cone of golden sparks showered for a split second before it fizzled.

  I shook the stupid thing, muttering, “I think I broke it.” My arms shot up to cover my face after another whistle sounded. Good thing too. The needles bit into my raised elbow and forearm instead of my handsome mug.

  “Try it again,” Dickhead suggested. “But with more feeling.”

  “Feeling?!” What the hell was that supposed to mean? My back faced toward the needling bastard again. At least it didn’t seem to be able to teleport around me like the molemancer.

  “Say it like you mean it.”

  “This is some bullshit,” I muttered. But I readied myself to double down on the stupid phrase right after the next attack.

  The whistle came, followed by an ass-cheek full of needles. It didn’t hurt, so I didn’t care.

  I spun, flicked the wand out, and yelled, “Bipbity-Bopbity-Boo!”

  The sparks were brighter this time but fizzled just as quickly. I’d glimpsed the needling bastard a dozen feet away.

  “It’s a damn porcupine,” I said. “Little franker keeps pelting me with his quills.”

  Dickhead gave it another ridiculous name as I braced for another barrage.

  “Quillranger—a porcupine with a level one ranger class. That explains the blindsense.”

  I turned the other cheek, so to speak, as he nailed the other half of my ass with quills. The little shit had turned me into an undead pincushion while I was playing with a damn toy.

  “Frank this,” I said, unzipping my jacket. I had to peel it off me because some asshole had pinned it to me with dozens of franking quills.

  I draped it over my arm like a shield, hoping it’d catch any stray shots. My plan was simple. If the quillranger hadn’t moved, there was a clear path from me to him.

  I brought my arm up to shield my face and blindly charged into the darkness ahead.

  The shield worked great, intercepting the next volley. My plan, however, wasn’t as effective. The quillranger must have scurried farther down the mineshaft because I didn’t trample or even trip over the little shit.

  I waited to see where the next attack would come. The whistle still came from dead ahead. I was quick enough to raise my shielded arm to catch the quills. Another idea popped into my head. It was pretty franking dumb, but no one was around to see me look like a jackass.

  I soaked the next volley, held out the damn wand, and started rapid-firing the incantation.

  “Bipbity-Bopbity-Boo. Bipbity-Bopbity-Boo. Bipbity-Bopbity-Boo.”

  After strobing my ass down the mineshaft with bursts of light, I shouted, “Bipbity-Bopbity-Booooo!” holding on to the last vowel as my battle cry.

  This time, the sparks remained as long as I held the note. I stopped shouting, and the mineshaft faded back into darkness. Not only had the light held while I yelled, but it had gotten brighter.

  I grinned, took a deep breath, and yelled, “Bipbity-Bopbity-Boo!” My voice clung to the last vowel as I continued shouting.

  I watched the cone narrow into a focused beam. It quickly grew in intensity until it was a solid, golden core. A rainbow of lightning arced around the beam’s core. The longer I held the note, the more powerful the beam became.

  It grew long enough to touch the mineshaft floor ahead of me. The rocky ground crackled as the golden beam cut into it like a goddamn laser.

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  “Holy shit,” I stopped to say.

  The beam died immediately, but the floor still glowed red where the beam had touched. It sizzled as it cooled down.

  I’d let my guard down while admiring my new golden rainbow laser pointer of doom. A handful of quills stuck me in my neck, one of them bouncing off my jaw.

  [Your Intellect has dropped to level 11.]

  “You piece of—”

  I inhaled sharply, flicked the wand out, and shouted the damn incantation, “Bipbity-Bopbity-Boo!”

  The cone of sparks focused in front of me while I held the note and searched for the little shit. I found him scampering farther into the mine as I tagged him with the golden beam.

  He was too far away for it to do anything but illuminate his quilled-ass, but I quickly closed the gap without letting up on my shout. He squealed in pain as the beam clipped his reloading quills and scorched his flesh.

  It took too long to cook him through. Eventually, I ran out of breath. While I didn’t need to breathe, I still had a limit to my lung capacity. Instead of waiting for another beam to ramp up, I stomped on him.

  His cries started out like a franked-up squeaky dog toy, but I silenced him with a few more stomps.

  [You’ve earned: 300 XP.]

  [You’ve cleared: resource node: copper.]

  Not my proudest kill, but I’d done my best to make it quick. I saw nothing sparkling on the ground and Bipbity-Bopbity-Booed my way back to the portal.

  [Exiting resource node: copper. Please wait…]

  [Welcome to the Overworld.]

  It was as I’d left it: temperate and fare weathered. I felt drained for the first time since entering the Tutorial. I wasn’t quite tired but still needed a moment to catch my breath. Which was weird since I didn’t actually need to breathe.

  “At least we have a use for your Mana now,” Dickhead said, which tipped me off to pull up my stats.

  Vitality: 92% (658/715)

  Mana: 10% (16/162)

  All those attacks and they hadn’t even knocked me down a hundred Vitality. It annoyed me to think I’d lost five Intellect instead of taking five measly points of damage. But I guess there were worse weaknesses than shotgun blasts to the face. I also noticed that I’d used most of my Mana on the sparkler, which explained how I was feeling.

  “Dick, how long until I get all my Mana back?”

  “Do you want the formula? Or just how long it’ll take?”

  From neck to knee, the damn quillranger had plastered me in quills, so I had more than enough time.

  “Both,” I answered, not bothering to count as I plucked.

  “Your Mana regen is 5% of your maximum Mana, plus one third of your Fortitude, plus one tenth of your Intellect; or a touch over thirteen Mana per minute. You’ll be back to full in just under twelve minutes.”

  The quills didn’t come out as easily as I’d hoped. It was like my skin wouldn’t let go, and if I pulled too hard, the stupid quill snapped. The ones in my jacket weren’t so bad; I could just push them through and they’d come out clean.

  I held my jacket up to the sky and peeked through all the holes. If it were self-repairing, it was taking its sweet-ass time. I set it down to reach behind me to pull quills stuck in my back.

  “Dammit,” I grumbled as I snapped another one. I’d broken more than I’d removed. It was an awkward angle. I couldn’t reach any farther.

  Scooping up my jacket—about to put it in my inventory—I stopped to inspect it. The holes had shrunk to little more than pinpricks.

  Hell yeah, I thought. No more wasting money on jackets for this schmuck.

  I glanced down at my jeans and frowned. There wasn’t anything left of them below my thighs. I’d need a few more of those upgrade tokens for my boxers, jeans, and boots, at the very least.

  There was still about half an hour before I could use my gravekey again, so I set out looking for a fight. Dickhead had already said it’d take a week for the NPC patrols to get into full swing, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to check.

  “Dick, mark the nearest road.”

  “Okie-dokie,” he said.

  The ping pulled on my left. In a sane world, I’d stick to roads and daylight if I wanted to play it safe. But in this World Dungeon, the NPCs owned the daytime and roadways while we owned the night. Backward, but I didn’t mind; at least it made it easier to find what I was after. I headed for the road.

  A grin formed on my face when I heard the clippity-clop of a horse approaching. I slipped off the road to set up an ambush. I crossed my arms, leaned against the back of a large tree, and waited.

  The gaudiest knight in shiny golden armor rode atop the horse. Four squires carrying banners surrounded him on foot. They stood in polished leather harnesses trimmed with gilded stitching, more suited for parades than battle. The damned knight shimmered, like he had some sort of rainbow aura about him.

  I didn’t see a single weapon among the squires, and a lone mace dangled from the knight’s belt. Cracking into his shiny armor might be a bitch, but those four banner bearers looked like easy pickings.

  “Hold up, Frank,” Dickhead said a second too late. “Those are named NPCs!”

  I didn’t know what the hell a “named NPC” was, but I’d already stepped out from behind the tree and was well on my way to tackling the first squire.

  Poor sap didn’t know what hit him. I dove and rammed my shoulder into his chest, knocking him out of formation and onto the ground. Once I had him pinned under my knees, I went to town, bashing in his face with my fists.

  I hadn’t quite finished the job when his three friends pulled me off him.

  “Leave Prince Diamond alone!” a squire shouted in my damn ear.

  Out of reflex, I smashed him in the nose with the back of my head for getting too close.

  [Your Intellect has dropped to level 10.]

  “Dammit.” I cursed myself for the stupid mistake. I’d have to relearn how to brawl. The streets had taught me that anything and everything was a weapon.

  The guy backed off me, cupping his broken nose.

  “Prince Club, Prince Spade, tend to the wounded,” the knight said in a theatrically booming voice. “I’ll handle this fiend myself.”

  Before they could release me, I shrugged them off.

  “And who the frank are you?” I jabbed a finger at the guy on his high horse.

  “Your undoing!” He probably meant to sound chivalrous, but it came out more like pompous asshole instead.

  The horse neighed a battle cry, rearing up on its hind legs. It dove forward, pounding the road with hooves as it dropped into a charge. The knight brought his mace back and swung at my head. The weapon whooshed just above my head as I ducked, ruffling my hair. I ignored the knight and went to finish what I’d started with the one they called Prince Diamond. The overly dramatic knight could either plow through his princes to get to me or get off his damn horse.

  I pushed two of the princes apart and brought the heel of my boot down hard on Prince Diamond’s head.

  [You’ve earned: 200 XP.]

  That was weird, I thought.

  Easy, unarmed classes like these normally gave fifty experience or less. Maybe it was because he was a prince? Whatever, I hadn’t stopped for experience; I stopped for a bite to eat.

  I went after the one with the broken nose next, grabbing him and sinking my teeth into his neck.

  [Your Biting skill has increased to level 2.]

  “Frank yeah!” I yelled through a mouthful of flesh. I ripped out a chunk and spat it to the ground.

  His eyes went wide with shock as his hands dropped from his nose to his neck. I saw the fountain spurt between his fingers and knew I could move on to the next poorly named prince.