The Cabin Is Always Hungry

LAST RESORT

Part 3

Allie and the others wouldn’t wake up any time soon. I made sure of that. All it took was a little sprinkle of the cheapest purple pixie dust (purple for charmed effects like sleep, which cost me five crystals per packet for one use), knocking them out for the next two hours.

And two hours are good enough for me.

While the delvers were asleep, I had more time to prepare them for Act Two: The rising tension. The Lure. Baiting them toward their eventual doom. The part when the fear builds to a bloody crescendo until, eventually, the delvers start screaming, groveling, and running, picked off one by one.

And, of course, the introduction of the main villain.

“The Administrators are watching us, my lord, eyes flickering with glee…” The Siren reminded me.

Of course, they are, I sighed. “Can you see them?”

The Siren shook her head. “Blood is in the water, joyful sounds of slaughter…”

Right. I triggered a scenario, and the crows came flocking, ready to witness a maddening feast. Should I make this a proper scenario? These are cultists, after all. Technically, I could kill them quickly once I got the answers I was looking for. But the administrators might find that boring.

I rolled my eyes. Why do I care? I’m not here to please them. I will still get ten thousand crystals by the end of it. Elvis did mention the watchers could give me other things, too, like more bonus crystals. Can they also give me other rewards? I wondered.

No, focus! I told myself.

I turned to Goliath. “Have you applied all the pixie dust on them?”

Goliath nodded.

“Good. Keep an eye on them. This shouldn’t take me more than ten minutes.”

Building a dungeon room under the cabin was that simple and fast when magic was involved. It would take longer if I had to change, bulldoze, manipulate the terrain, or build something more complex and meticulous.

But all I needed for now was a simple room and a simpler contraption.

When I opened the Core Menu screen by just thinking about it, time stopped, like pausing in the middle of a video game. The outside world didn’t literally pause per se but slowed down to milliseconds, giving me enough time to do plenty of things. Out of the corner of my eyes, Goliath was sloooowlyyy scratching his jaw.

CORE

DUNGEONS

MONSTERS

TRAPS

QUESTS

RUMORS

The bottom two were new additions to the menu. It appeared after I completed my first official scenario with the full blessing of an administrator. [ Quests ] was pretty self-explanatory. I only had two things in there: the quest to eradicate the Cult of Astaroth and the second one was to collect four-hundred and sixty-seven essences to create my second dungeon.

Four-hundred and sixty-six now. I looked down at Andre’s corpse dragged off to a corner, away from the others.

On the other hand, [Rumors] was something I didn’t quite understand yet. I opened it to read the messages that had popped up several hours ago.

[North Cedar Lake has earned the Modern Folklore perk. Denizens nearby know the macabre stories of your dungeon and the creatures that dwell inside. You have five empty myths. Creating a myth increases a dungeon and an archetype’s Dread effects. ]

[ Error: no myths created yet. Would you like to do that now? ]

I told the prompt to go away for now. I reckoned that would take too long, even several days of writing and planning. It didn’t seem like something I should rush over, especially when it could magically implant false memories in the people around me.

Next to the teleportation chamber, I built a hexagonal room about forty feet wide with a flat, circular platform at the center where my contraption stood. Four very uncomfortable metallic chairs faced each other, and in the middle was a tube with a self-loading crossbow on top that could rotate a hundred and sixty degrees.

But something is still missing, I thought. Well, I still have six minutes left.

I looked at the bare walls, and they needed a little more pizzazz—something enticing to bring the room together. An idea formed, and I smiled. I went over my options, and I decided to go for a more industrial-looking aesthetic.

Like a warehouse!

I carved through the floor and plunged the room another twenty feet to add narrow catwalks, ladders, and air vents. Of course, the exit was right by the highest catwalk next to the “engineering room.” Inside was a console table with random buttons that didn’t work.

Hissing steam from the heating pipes covered the walls, and I even added a protruding cylindrical vat with a greenish acidic substance floating inside.

Random chains hang from the ceiling and at the ends, glinting with sharp hooks and dried blood.

The floors were caked with grime, oily puddles, and soot.

And, of course, I couldn’t forget about the smell. Iron, sulfur, decaying organic matter, and various odd chemicals suffused the chamber.

I also raised the temperature to ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit. I wanted it to feel like the sweltering heat of summer, sweat sticking to your shirt and skin, which accidentally also increased the moisture in the room, creating a hazy fog.

And last, the furnace itself. Fire burning, crackling with anger. Engines whistled and wheezed as the machine breathed.

Freddy Krueger will be right at home.

Once the chamber was complete, Goliath dragged all the cultists and secured them on the metallic seats.

“Do you think I went overboard?” I asked Goliath about the Furnace Chamber.

Goliath looked around, nodding with approval. He threw me two thumbs up.

“Oh, so you like it?”

Goliath rests the palm of his hand on his chest.

Aw, he didn’t like it. He loved it. I smiled. “Oh, good! Ready to give them a show?”

Goliath raised his eyebrows and pointed at himself reluctantly.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll play first. Oldie will be in the tunnels in case they get that far. If they get extremely lucky, Demon and Siren will watch the woods and the lake.”

Goliath gave me the “okay” symbol, tilted his head questioningly, went up the ladder again, and returned to the teleportation chamber. He dragged Andre’s body to the Furnace Chamber. Once he reached the catwalk, Goliath didn’t feel like carrying him down the ladder; he just threw him over the railing, and his body fell thirty feet below.

The pixie dust still had an hour left, and I watched Goliath work his magic. He cut, chopped, dissected, and violated Andre’s corpse. He slowly propped the limbs around the crossbow tube. I had no idea what he was going for, but I told him this was his show, so I didn’t interfere. Once he was done, I realized what he was going for: a snowman made from Andre’s body parts. He chopped off the man’s split head and placed it on the flat surface just above the crossbow section. He forced open Andre’s intact right eye, ensuring he was making eye contact with whomever the crossbow was aiming at.

And just to add an extra creep factor, Goliath sliced through Andre’s cheeks to make him smile from ear to ear. He stepped back and admired his grotesque work.

“Jesus, Goliath,” I said. “That’s, um, a lot.”

Goliath smiled and raised his hands into tiger claws. Meant to be scary, he would say.

“Well, it’s scary and fucked up, alright.”

He proudly tapped on his chest again, loving it.

“It’s your show, big man. Give them a good scare.”

Allie was the last person to wake up from Jessica screaming from seeing Andre’s brutalized corpse. They were all annoyingly shouting and crying out for help in the past five minutes. They tried to escape from their bonds, but their wrists were secured on the chair’s armrests, and their ankles locked to the chair’s legs. Only Goliath could release them by pulling the lever at the platform’s edge.

I let them sit there for a good ten minutes, sweating, swearing, and crying. Letting them ruminate in their thoughts, let the fear of the unknown simmer deep inside until it boiled over.

“Hello?! Is anybody there?!” Brandon shouted. Goliath was kind enough to put his pants back on when we teleported him from the toilet.

“Ahh! It’s no use!” Conrad said. “No one’s gonna help us.”

“Brandon, where are we?” Jessica sobbed. “What do they want with us?”

“I don’t know, baby. But once I’m out of this fucking chair, I swear, I’m gonna fuck them up!”

“That’s not helping, Brandon,” Allie said. “We don’t even know who they are. And Andre…”

Conrad caught the glint in her eye. “What? You know something? Because last time I remember, I was talking to you, and then I was in this dark room, and something hit me on the back of the head.”

“Same for me,” Brandon and Jessica said at the same time.

“I got a call,” Allie said.

“What call?” Jessica asked.

“From Jonas. But it wasn’t Jonas. The man on the other line said he was…” Allie paused.

“Well? He was what?” Conrad asked impatiently.

Allie tried to hold back her tears. “He said he’s dead. He…he led me out of the terminal. And I was being so stupid that I thought it was him. It sounded exactly like him. I ran…I grabbed Andre…and then one thing I know, we were on this platform, and Andre just…he just…exploded!” Her Resolve dropped to orange as she recollected the memory.

All of their Resolve hovered between yellow and orange, and Goliath didn’t even do anything yet.

“So we all saw the platform,” Brandon said. “We were all at the airport, and now we ended up here in a blink of an eye. It’s gotta be some kind of teleportation magic. Does this sound like divination magic to any of you? Conrad, do you know any divination artifacts like this?”

Conrad shook his head. “Look, I transported many things for the Society across the country, but I know nothing about a device that can teleport people, okay? I don’t even know if the others have it. I’m just a low-level courier! They won’t even let me touch the good shit!”

“Could it be the Institute?” Jessica asked. I caught the slight shiver in her voice.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The Institute? That’s interesting. Another demonic cult? A rival faction, perhaps?

Conrad shook his head again. “The Institute don’t go kidnapping and murdering people.”

“How would you know? You’ve never encountered them before. Those who do end up in prison or, if they’re lucky, dead,” Brandon said.

“Exactly. Dead. From bullets. They don’t waste their time bringing us here,” Conrad said.

Allie hitched her breath all of a sudden. “Unless they want to question us.”

“You are correct,” I said, revealing myself. My voice reverberated across the Furnace Chamber from the loudspeakers across the room. Oracle had to modulate my pitch to make it sound more intimidating.

They all looked around the room, trying to find the source of the voice. Their gaze lingered on the engineering room, but it was way too high, and they couldn’t see through the window due to the hazy fog.

Goliath stepped out of the shadows behind the towering steel vat and approached the platform with heavy steps while dragging his axe. He stopped right next to the release lever. The others trembled and gasped, though only Allie had a visceral reaction to him. After all, he did punch her in the face, and her cheek was turning blotchy red and blue.

“That’s the guy,” Allie said, squirming. “That’s the guy who killed Andre.”

“What do you want?!” Jessica shrieked. “Please, just let us go!”

“You don’t know who you are fucking with!” Brandon said. “Astaroth, domine, exaudi orationem meam…”

“Oh, I know exactly who you all are, Brandon Satcher. Your god is not here,” I said. “Astaroth has no power here.”

Brandon paused mid-prayer and glared, still trying to find me.

“You may have realized what happened to you and how I brought you into my domain. You may have realized what kind of power I had to use to do it. So do not test me. Do not challenge me, for my punishments are severe and, to be honest, quite painful.”

“He will save us,” Brandon said, though his confidence waned.

I smiled. “Yet, he did not save Justin and Melanie Hodge, nor did their flock.”

That shut them up. They knew who Justin Hodge was, what he was capable of, and how important he was to the Havashar Society. I wiped him and his crew out like a bug. I added, “Perhaps you do not know who you are dealing with. So, let me introduce myself. My name is Mark Benedict Castle. I am a Dungeon Core, and the Cult of Astaroth sacrificed me to claim, in their arrogance, the power of the universe. Only your friends did not take into account my refusal to be compliant and enslaved. And now they are all dead.”

A television screen materialized next to Conrad, showing them the security feed of Jonas’s death. I made sure that Oracle added audio so that they could hear Jonas begging me to spare him before the elevator cut him in half. Allie shrieked and cried. Jessica pleaded to be let go. Conrad whimpered and let his bladder go, darkening his pants. Only Brandon was quiet, putting up a brave face, but his Resolve’s aura betrayed him as it slipped from a golden yellow into a dull orange.

“Next footage, please,” I said to Oracle and everyone to hear.

The screen flashed to a recording of the security feed in the same VIP lounge where the other cultists had gathered. The flight had already been delayed for twenty minutes as three cultists searched for Allie and the others across the airport. They called off the search when the pilots got impatient and decided to leave without them. All twenty-two cultists boarded the plane.

“What is this?” Allie asked.

“Watch,” I said.

Five more monitors appeared around the platform, showing various camera feeds from the cultists’ open laptops and phones, the flight path across Northern Oregon, and the cameras from the cockpit and by the cockpit door. The first twenty-five minutes were uneventful. I actually had to fast-forward through the footage, especially when the flight attendant handed out dinner.

“Chicken or beef?” She asked. Not even halfway through, she had already run out of chicken. Like always.

“Why are you showing us this?” Brandon asked.

Again, I said, “Watch. Just watch.”

Oracle found a way to bring the survival rate of a plane crash to zero. Bringing the plane down onto a mountain or a forested area still gave the cultists a little chance to survive the impact. I couldn’t take that chance. So, Oracle decided to make the plane explode.

Now, planes wouldn’t just randomly explode up in the sky. There were plenty of steps that should occur for that to happen. A lot of negligence, bad structural design, and freak accidents. Since Oracle could control tech and electronics, we could create the illusion of negligence and freak accidents. And the way to do it was to manipulate the plane’s fuel inerting system by shutting off the check valve. This system reduced the amount of oxygen inside the fuel tank by introducing an inert gas like nitrogen. Without it, the amount of oxygen would rise inside the tank.

But it would still take quite a long time for the oxygen to build, maybe months or years. Time that I do not have.

Which brought us to the second step: While the plane was still in the taxi waiting for the cultists to board, Oracle short-circuited the Air-Cycle machine, especially the refrigeration packs that controlled the air-conditioning of the entire plane, which generated a lot of heat, creating vapor and increasing pressure. Vapor and pressure were important if you want to blow shit up with fuel. As the pressure rose, the tank’s integrity gradually deteriorated.

Luckily for Oracle and me, this was an older plane and smaller than other commercial aircraft, which meant these air-conditioning packs were placed directly beneath the fuel tank, sharing the same voltage and currents. We also had to shut off the system to reduce the heat generated by the damaged refrigeration packs.

So the pressure just keeps on growing and growing and growing…

Warning signals from the cockpit told the pilots that something was definitely wrong with the plane. They wouldn’t see it, though, not with Oracle controlling the monitoring systems. They believed everything was normal.

Then, to step three: Once the oxygen levels inside the tank were sufficient enough, Oracle moved to manipulate the fuel quantity indicator system by introducing a high voltage charge inside the tank’s fuel gauge. The last thing the pilots saw was the unusual increase in fuel they were carrying on the console. Oracle allowed them to contact Portland’s Air Traffic Control that something was wrong with their system. On paper, this needed to look like an accident—A very unfortunate accident.

And then…

A second high voltage charge.

The cabin shuddered…

All at once, the passengers felt something was off, not a normal turbulence…

Beneath them, the tank expanded outward…

And then…

The monitors around the platform went black, except for one.

It showed a video of a family out on a hike along the Larch Mountain Trail. The husband was filming his wife and their three children reaching Sherrard Point. In the background, at least eight other hikers were in the shot with them, taking photos and enjoying the warm, sunny September day with no clouds in the sky. What was obvious was the tiny dot flying in the background, leaving contrails in its wake.

Allie and the others could feel what was coming, although they didn’t want to believe it. Then, a huge fireball engulfed the upper left corner of the screen. The hikers gasped and screamed, pointing fingers at the blazing ball of debris plummeting toward the forest.

Miraculously, one cultist survived the initial explosion.

James McNerney was filming Mount Hood from the distance when the explosion split the plane in half. His phone filmed the entire ordeal as the cabin depressurized and his chair was sucked out of the plane. It would take him fifty seconds to reach the ground, and he clutched that phone for dear life. I mean, we heard and saw everything. He prayed. He screamed. He begged. In the middle of the fall, he managed to unbuckle himself from his seat, hurtling into a spiral and unable to hold on to his phone.

I watched his body burst through the forest’s canopy, his head slammed against the branches, his body spinning and spinning down until he hit the ground with a loud cracking thud. The phone—another miracle—survived the fall.

James McNerney did not.

[Error. You cannot collect 25 essences of James McNerney, Clive Beechum, Edwina Leung, Barbara Serratos, Malcolm Serratos….(etc.). Location: 82.7 miles outside of the dungeon border. Delvers out of bounds.]

[You cannot collect an essence outside of the dungeon’s perimeter. If you cannot determine your dungeon’s borders, please look at your Dread effect, which is a standard 2-mile radius from your core. The greater the distance, the lesser your Dread effect can influence a given area and collect any delver’s essence. This will also determine your base border. Note that your physical border and its effects can expand over time as your core ages and grows in power.]

I had seen the same message before when Leo Grady escaped to find the park ranger (Old Growth killed the latter) and when I killed Jonas back at the Society’s office. The System didn’t appreciate it when I wasted essences.

I turned my attention to the others’ shocked expressions.

“You…you killed them?” Conrad asked, bewildered.

“Yes,” I said.

“What do you want?” Allie asked. “You killed Jonas. You killed my friends—”

“Friends?” I asked. “I thought the Havashar Society did not believe in the concept of friends. I guess if you belong to a cult, such things get twisted and muddled.”

“What do you want?” Allie repeated sternly.

“It is quite simple, really,” I paused. “Tell me the names of The Seat, and I will give you a chance to live.”

I could feel each of their muscles tensed and clenched. I hit a fucking mine, didn’t I?

“The Seat’s identities are meant to be secret,” Allie explained.

“Not to Jonas,” I said. “And you have been particularly close to him the past year. And what about Conrad, the courier? You had dealings with artifacts from all over the other sects across the country. You are bound to meet them at some point, given you’ve been working for the Society for over eleven years. As for Brandon and Jessica, well, you two handled the financial capabilities of your sect. Especially Jessica, when you are the big-shot lawyer. You are bound to have a run-in with The Seat in your four years of service.”

“No, I did not. I didn’t even meet any of them!” Jessica exclaimed.

A reddish glow emanated from Goliath’s palm: a tiny crystalline orb. He walked toward the tube and shoved the glowing red orb inside Andre’s gaping mouth.

“Ahh, unfortunately, Ms. Pruitt, I know you are lying. You met with one of them, I see.”

“I…I did not!”

The orb grew redder.

“You see that orb over there? Think of it as a lie detector, only perfectly accurate. My question to the four of you is very simple. What are the names of the members of The Seat? Now, the next thing I am about to say is very important. If you give me a fake name, this orb will know it, and there will be consequences.”

The panel below Andre’s decapitated head slid down, revealing the self-loading crossbow, currently pointed at Conrad. “If you refuse to answer it, there will also be consequences,” I added.

They didn’t have to know that this orb only worked when it was fifteen feet away. They didn’t have to know that this orb only had a ten-minute charge, and time was of the essence. The orb’s red glow gradually dissipated into a cloudy, milky-white ball.

“I will give you three chances. But if the orb glows red three times, you die. And I have a feeling you all wanted to live.”

Conrad panicked. “What the fuck?! What the fuck is this? Let us out! I don’t know anything!”

The orb turned red again.

I frowned. “Liar.”

Thwack!

The crossbow shot out, and the bolt slammed into Conrad’s shoulder. He howled like a wounded beast, shaking and trembling as he gaped at the bolt lodged deep into his flesh just under the collarbone. “Fuuuccck!!!!” He screamed.

Everyone’s Resolve wavered dangerously close to the brink when they realized there was no escape from this contraption, not until they gave me names. Still, their loyalty to the cult and to Astaroth was greater. I’ll change their tune soon, I thought.

The crossbow swiveled around and pointed at Jessica.

“No! No, no, no!” Jessica begged. “Please, no!”

“If you dare fucking touch her…” Brandon glowered at Goliath.

“Or what?” I asked. “What will you do, Brandon? You are stuck in that chair like everyone else. What are you planning to do?”

“I’ll… I’ll kill you.”

I grinned. “I highly doubt that, but whatever makes you feel better. Anyway, Jessica, you know what to give me.”

Jessica sobbed. “But I don’t know anything. I swear!”

The orb was still red. Jessica realized it, too, and watched in horror as the crossbow lowered its angle and shot her.

Thwack!

The bolt embedded itself just above her right knee, and Jessica shrieked as pain coursed up her body.

“You motherfucker!” Brandon shouted. “I’ll kill you!”

The crossbow swiveled again to face Allie.

“Allie, don’t fucking give him anything. That’s what he wants! He’s still going to kill us!”

Allie had been holding back her tears since she saw Jonas get split in half by the elevator, but then she saw the blood pouring out of Conrad’s and Jessica’s wounds. Something primal took hold of her. She tried to slip the cuffs off her wrists until they bruised red. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get out of that chair.

“I’m not gonna tell you shit!” Allie shouted. “Never!”

Thwack!

The crossbow bolt slammed right under her right breast; blood quickly seeped out and ran down her blouse. “Ahhh!” She tried to kick the pain away as adrenaline surged across her body.

It was Brandon’s turn.

“I don’t know shit! No names, no nothing! That’s the truth! If you want to torture me before you kill me, just do it already—” Brandon paused, mouth agape.

The orb glowed green, reflecting its colors across Brandon’s face.

“Huh, will you look at that,” I said to Oracle. “One truth on the first round. We’re making progress.”

> HE DOES NOT KNOW THE NAMES. WHAT WILL YOU DO WITH HIM?

“Keep him on that chair for now. He may be useful once I get to Jessica.”

Was that relief I saw on Brandon’s face? It brought his Resolve a little higher, but not enough. Not when his girlfriend was still on the chopping block across from him. He cared for her genuinely, I realized. If Justin and Melanie could find love while murdering people, I reckoned Brandon and Jessica could as well.

I turned the crossbow toward Conrad again, and his eyes widened.

“Oh, fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” he stammered, squirming in his seat.

“You know what to do, Conrad.”

“But I don’t know! That thing must be broken or something!”

“Wrong answer.”

“No, please—!”

Thwack!

The bolt smacked into his stomach and pierced right through his liver. Conrad buckled over, bile bubbled up his throat, and he retched what he ate for breakfast all over himself.

The crossbow swiveled again. Jessica squirmed like Conrad did, and like Conrad, she refused to tell me The Seat’s names. Another bolt hit her below the stomach. Allie managed to evade the bolt by leaning quickly to the side, although she didn’t get that far enough, and the bolt slammed onto her right upper arm instead.

It was Brandon’s turn again.

“I already told you. I know nothing!”

“I know. But this question is meant for Jessica. Unlike you, she does. She knew a name, at least. And she will give it to me in exchange for your life.”

“W—What?” Jessica faltered.

“A name, Ms. Pruitt. A name for Brandon’s life.”

“But you don’t know what you’re asking me to do.”

“Why? Do you fear The Seat more than me? After all, I’ve shown you?”

“You don’t understand.”

I lowered my voice. “Then, enlighten me.”

“Look, they are powerful people. I’ve seen what they can do. They are chosen by Astaroth himself as his heralds. It’s…I can’t! I can’t do it!”

I was not impressed. Not one bit. I raised the angle of the crossbow, aiming for Brandon’s face. The contraption clicked into place, making him jump from fright.

“Shit! Jess! Just…”

“Baby…” Jessica whimpered.

Brandon watched in horror as the bolt was loaded onto the crossbow. There was no stopping it. No tears or amount of begging could stop this. Not even his girlfriend. Panic crossed his face. His own sweat drenched him. He desperately wanted to stand his ground. To say nothing and stick it up my ass. But this…this was something else. A primal fear he had never experienced before. An accountant rarely handled the blade and cut flesh, not like Hodge and his followers. No, Brandon Satcher was a desk pusher who masqueraded as a tough guy, built his muscles for show, and pretended to be a blue-collared guy when he was nothing but a rich prick. When death glared at you in the face, you had no choice but to run, hide, or fight. That’s just human nature.

“Tell him…” Brandon said softly.

“I…I…what?”

“Jess, tell him!”

“But, Brandon—”

“—Just. Fucking. Tell. Him!”

“I can’t! I’m sorry! I can’t!”

“Jessica! Please!”

“I’m so sorry…”

“Oh, fuck…” It dawned on him like a barreling truck. “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck! Get me out of here!”

“Oh, shit, I can’t look,” Conrad said and looked away, forcing his eyes shut.

Brandon thrashed on his seat, waiting for the bolt to fire. He tried calculating his timing to see if he could duck just in time for the bolt to miss him.

The first bolt did miss him--by an inch. It hit the headrest with a loud thump, clipping him on his right earlobe and pinning him on the chair. Brandon screamed as he pulled his head back, tearing his earlobe off to free himself.

But the crossbow was already loaded with the second bolt, and I didn’t give him enough time to collect himself before it fired.

Thwack!

The bolt slammed through his left eye. Brandon let out a stifled, high-pitched croak as if a stone had lodged in his throat. He was still alive, turning his head left and right as if he could see where the bolt had landed, not knowing it was already embedded inside his skull. Then, his other eye forcibly glided to the side, the nerves losing their signals, his vision blurring.

“I…I, Jess…” He tried to speak, but he couldn’t find the words.

Suddenly, the weight of his skull was too much, and he leaned forward, hoping that would help alleviate the pressure pounding at the back of his head. He stayed there forever, blood trickling out of his nostrils and his mouth. He let out one final strangled choke, an exhaled breath, and then silence.

Except for everyone’s screams—Jessica’s, in particular.

[ You have gained 1 essence: Brandon Satcher ]

[ You have gained 150 crystals ]

The crossbow swiveled again toward Conrad.

And Conrad sang like a sweet fucking bird. They all did, eventually.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!