You have entered: Floor 4 – Acceptance.
Status Update: You are now 12% at peace with your life choices.
New Buff: "It Is What It Is." Gain +10 resistance to regret.
The stairwell leading into Floor 4 was disturbingly well-lit. Calming waterfall sounds trickled in from somewhere. It smelled faintly of lavender, bad decisions, and faintly judgmental incense.
I stumbled in first. My emotional damage bar was blinking. It had a little bandaid on it. It wasn't helping.
The room was a wide, circular zen garden. White sand, raked into delicate spirals, surrounded a massive cherry blossom tree in the center.
"Where's the trap?" I said.
Sir Galrik closed his eyes and breathed in deep. "This place is… soothing."
"Suspiciously soothing," I whispered. "The last time I felt calm I got poisoned by a fortune cookie."
From the tree descended a glowing, vaguely humanoid being made entirely out of bark, petals, and what I can only describe as "therapy energy."
"Welcome," it intoned, in a soothing baritone. "I am Sapathor, the Spirit of Acceptance."
Lilith rolled her eyes. "Let me guess. I have to accept my fate, or I get slapped with a debuff?"
"No," Sapathor said. "You must simply listen."
I hated it already.
He raised his hand. "Here, you must confront the things you cannot change."
A soft wind blew through the garden. Images formed in the air: Me failing my second sword exam. Me burning toast and lying about it. Me being born without abs.
Sapathor gestured. "Accept it, and you may proceed."
I nodded slowly. "Alright. I accept that I'm garbage."
"No," he said gently. "Acceptance is not self-hatred. Acceptance is peace."
"Oh." I cleared my throat. "I accept that I'm garbage… but in a recyclable way?"
He stared at me. "...Close enough."
Galrik stepped forward. "Spirit! Is there wisdom you can offer us on our quest?"
Sapathor blinked slowly. "Yes. Wash your armor more. You smell like regret and mushrooms."
You have gained: +1 Wisdom. Emotional Flatulence Debuff Removed.
We were halfway across the garden when a vine shot out and grabbed my ankle.
"HA!" I screamed. "I knew it! This was a trap after all!"
"No," said Sapathor. "This is merely a metaphor."
The vines wrapped around me, lifted me up, and began shaking me violently.
"What is it metaphor?!" I yelled.
"To shake loose your preconceptions."
I threw up a little.
Lilith walked over and cut the vine with her scythe. I fell flat on the sand.
Sapathor nodded solemnly. "You may pass."
"Good," I groaned. "Because I'm about to accept my spine doesn't work anymore."We descended to Floor 5. It was instantly worse.
You have entered: Floor 5 – Rage.
Passive Effect: Everyone is now slightly more of an asshole.
Special Rule: All healing spells now cause irritation instead of comfort.
The air was hot. Not lava hot—Twitter argument hot.
Flaming words were scrawled across the walls: "THINGS YOUR EX SAID," "UNREAD MESSAGES," and "PEOPLE WHO CHEW WITH THEIR MOUTHS OPEN."
I took one breath and immediately wanted to punch someone. Not anyone in particular. Just someone.
Sir Galrik drew his sword. "Do you feel it? The righteous fury?"
"I feel something," I grumbled, "and it wants to kick a puppy."
A voice echoed through the chamber. "WELCOME TO FLOOR FIVE, LOSERS."
A giant flaming being with too many arms rose from a pit in the ground. It was made entirely of everything that ever pissed me off—delay loading screens, people who talk during movies, and clerics who cast healing after the tank dies.
"I AM KARGANON THE PETTY," it bellowed, "EMBODIMENT OF YOUR RAGE ISSUES."
Mister Fog appeared behind me and whispered, "He's made of seven energy drinks and unresolved forum arguments."
Lilith took one step forward and snapped her own neck to the side like a boxer warming up. "Finally. A boss I like."
Karganon screamed and charged.
Galrik held up his shield. "Cecil! Channel your righteous anger!"
"I DON'T HAVE RIGHTEOUS ANGER!" I shouted. "I HAVE PETTY RESENTMENT AND A VAGUE HATRED OF MY OWN REFLECTION!"
"IT'S GOOD ENOUGH!" Galrik yelled.
I closed my eyes and thought about everything: every time I got picked last for a group project, every time someone called me "bud" condescendingly, every time my toast landed butter-side-down.
My hand lit up. A new power activated:
New Spell Unlocked: Petty Bolt. Fires a sarcasm-charged insult that does psychic damage.
I cast it.
"Hey, Karganon!" I yelled. "Your face looks like someone lost a bet with a barbecue grill!"
He recoiled.
Critical Hit. Karganon takes 112 psychic damage.
Lilith jumped off a wall, flipped through the air, and kicked him straight in the horn. Galrik threw his sword like a javelin. Mister Fog spat philosophical nonsense into a megaphone and made Karganon question his identity.
He exploded.
Boss Defeated: Karganon the Petty.
Loot Gained: Anger Management Badge. +3 Diplomacy (When Yelling).
We all sat there, panting.
I looked around. "What the hell is Floor 6 gonna be?"
Mister Fog shuddered. "Grief."
Lilith cracked her knuckles. "We'll need snacks for this one."
Galrik lifted me up again. "And tissues."
"Can I opt out?" I muttered.
"No," said everyone, including the wall.
And so, with a dry throat and a rage hangover, I descended again… to the most emotionally messy floor yet.
To be continued...