Chapter 2: Madcap Welcome
The rift didn't close.
It breathed.
Violet light pulsed from the jagged tear in the air like a sick heart. Each throb sent a shockwave of distorted gravity that made the rubble on the plaza tremble. The Automaton's corpse began to dissolve into motes of light and shimmering dust—standard dungeon decomposition. But the rift remained, an open wound in reality.
Rocky stood twenty paces from it, his burnt arm throbbing in time with the light. The core in his pocket was quiet, but the library in his mind hummed. The PROTO-FORM book now had a faint, shimmering subtitle:
<< Synchronization: 3.4% >>
<< Manifestion Concepts Logged: Blunt Force, Defensive Shell, Piercing Weapon. >>
<< Warning: Proto-Form stability low. Coalescence requires focused intent. >>
Focused intent. He'd almost melted his own arm off. Good to know.
Sirens crescendoed. Three Guild vans, armor-plated and marked with the crossed sword-and-staff emblem, skidded to a halt, blocking the eastern exits. Hunters in standardized tactical gear poured out, forming a perimeter. Their leader, a woman with a severe bun and a scar cutting through her eyebrow, scanned the scene. Her eyes locked on the dissolving Automaton, then on Rocky, standing alone between the rift and the retreating civilians.
"You!" Her voice was a whip-crack amplified by a vocal spell. "Civilian! Fall back to the evacuation line!"
Rocky didn't move. He was watching the rift. The pulses were getting faster. The geometry inside the tear shimmered, showing glimpses of something beyond: a corridor of pulsating organic metal, glowing fungal growths on the walls.
It's stabilizing, he realized. Not collapsing. It's forming a permanent gate.
"I said FALL BACK!" The hunter captain—her nametag read VEX—started toward him, hand on the pistol at her hip. It wasn't a normal gun; the barrel glowed with engraved runes.
Before she took three steps, a new sound cut through the sirens.
"WHEEEEEEEEEE!"
It was a shrill, joyous, utterly unhinged cry.
From a half-collapsed noodle shop to the right, a figure cartwheeled into the plaza. A boy, maybe Rocky's age, dressed in patched trousers and a jacket that was more pocket than fabric. His hair was a riot of bright orange spikes, and tucked into the bandana holding it back were what looked like… colorful glass vials.
He landed in a perfect handstand, then kicked his legs over, springing upright. He grinned at the rift. "Party's here! And you brought the good fireworks!"
Captain Vex froze. "Madcap Jerry. Of course." Her voice dripped with exhausted disdain. "This is a Guild-controlled breach. Stand down or be detained."
"Detained? With that?" Jerry jabbed a thumb at the pulsating rift. "Captain Vexy, your perimeter's about as useful as a chocolate teapot! Can't you feel it? It's gonna pop!"
As if on cue, the rift's breathing hitched. The violet light intensified, sucking inward for a second before—
FWUMP.
A wave of distorted air shoved outwards. It wasn't destructive, but it was deeply wrong. The Guild hunters staggered, clutching their heads. A wave of psychic static—the feeling of a thousand distant screams and mechanical clicks—flooded the area.
Rocky grunted, the noise scraping against his mind. But beneath the static, his core hummed in response, a low, stabilizing frequency that cleared the fog from his thoughts. It's scanning, he realized. The dungeon is probing our world.
"See?" Jerry sang, entirely unaffected. He plucked a blue vial from his hair. "Told ya! Now, do we do this the boring way—you guys shoot at it until it gets mad—or the fun way?"
He looked directly at Rocky. His eyes, a startling electric blue, held no fear. Only manic curiosity. "You're the classless wonder who parried a laser with a piece of his homework! What's your call?"
Captain Vex recovered, her face pale with rage. "There is no 'call'! Guild protocol dictates immediate suppression fire on unstable gates! Squads B and C, load mana-disruptor rounds!"
"That'll make it explode," Rocky said, his voice calm, cutting through the chaos.
Everyone stared at him. He kept his eyes on the rift, analyzing the flow of energy. "The gate isn't natural. It's a scouting probe. The Automaton was the physical vanguard. The rift itself is a sensory organ. Disruptor rounds will overload its feedback loop. The resulting energy backblast has an 83% chance of vaporizing this block."
Silence, save for the rift's hum.
"And how," Captain Vex said slowly, dangerously, "does a classless civilian know Guild suppression protocols and energy feedback probabilities?"
Rocky finally looked at her. "I read." He turned back to the rift. "You need to close it from the inside. Collapse the anchor point on the other side."
Jerry whooped. "A dungeon dive! I knew I liked you!" He started juggling three vials—red, green, and yellow.
"That's a suicide mission for a full A-Rank team," Vex snapped. "We wait for backup."
"Your backup is twelve minutes out," Rocky said, remembering the Guild dispatch codes on the public channel. "The gate's resonance frequency is increasing. It will initiate a mass-materialization event in six minutes. Probably more Automatons. Possibly a Commander-type."
He was guessing. But the data fit. The core in his pocket seemed to pulse in agreement.
Vex's jaw worked. She was trapped. Protocol said wait. The tactical reality said disaster was imminent. Her career was balanced on the edge of a knife.
Jerry solved her dilemma. "Screw it! I'm going in! Fun guy, you comin'?" He didn't wait for an answer. With a running start and another gleeful shout, he sprinted straight for the rift, leaping over chunks of rubble.
"STOP HIM!" Vex bellowed.
Too late. Jerry tucked into a ball and sailed through the violet tear. It rippled like water, swallowing him whole.
The rift pulsed once, violently. The shimmering image of the organic metal corridor solidified, becoming clearer, more real. It was an invitation. Or a trap.
Rocky's mind raced. Jerry inside. An unstable, reacting dungeon. Six minutes.
The Guild hunters raised their weapons, aiming at the rift, unsure.
Rocky made his choice. He wasn't a hero. But he recognized a catalyst when he saw one. This rift, this chaos—it was a door. The Guild would never open it for him. They'd stamp him "civilian" and shove him behind a line.
He started walking. Not running. A steady, deliberate pace toward the shimmering gate.
"HALT!" Vex screamed, her pistol now aimed at him. "Civilian, I will fire!"
Rocky didn't slow. He met her eyes. "You need that rift closed. I'm going to close it. Shoot me, and you lose your only volunteer." He kept walking. "Your call, Captain."
The standoff lasted three heartbeats. Vex's finger tightened on the trigger. Then, with a furious snarl, she lowered the gun. "If you come out alive, you're under Guild arrest for reckless endangerment!"
"Noted."
He reached the edge of the rift. The violet light washed over him. The psychic static returned, a buzzing pressure in his skull. He could see into the corridor now. It stretched into darkness. He could hear a distant, echoing "Wheeeeee!"
Rocky took a final breath of Apex City's ozone-tainted air.
<< Proto-Form Status: Coalescence Possible.>>
<< User Intent: Define.>>
Adapt, he thought, and stepped through.
The world twisted.
It wasn't like walking through a door. It was being unfolded. Sensations inverted. Sound became texture. Light became taste. For a terrifying second, he was nowhere and everywhere.
Then, solidity returned. He stumbled, catching himself on a wall.
The wall was warm. It pulsed. He jerked his hand back. It was made of the same organic metal, veined with faint blue bioluminescence. The air was thick, humid, and smelled of ozone and damp soil. The corridor stretched ahead, curving gently. Behind him, the gate was a shimmering oval of violet, showing the blurred, distant image of the plaza and Captain Vex's furious face. The sound from outside was muffled, like hearing the world from underwater.
He was in. The first dungeon. Unranked. Uncharted.
<< Environment Analysis: Pocket Dimension – [Scrapmetal Warren].>>
<< Ambient Mana Density: Low. Compatible with Proto-Form.>>
<< Local Threats detected: Mechanized Fauna.>>
"Took you long enough!" The cheerful voice echoed from down the corridor.
Jerry stood thirty feet ahead, leaning against the wall, examining a glowing fungus. He'd already broken off a piece and was sniffing it. "Ooh, peppery! Think it's poisonous?"
"Probably," Rocky said, straightening up. He focused inward. The PROTO-FORM book glowed brighter here, as if energized by the dungeon's mana.
"Eh, I've eaten worse." Jerry pocketed the fungus and bounced on his heels. "So! Plan? I'm thinking we find the big glowy thing making the noise and give it a present!" He held up a vial filled with swirling, silver dust.
"The anchor point," Rocky said, his eyes scanning the corridor. The veins of light pulsed in a slow, rhythmic pattern. A circulatory system. "We follow the energy flow. The pulses are strongest…" He trailed off, placing a hand on the wall again. Feeling the faint vibration. "…that way." He pointed down the curved hall.
"Lead on, classless!"
They moved. The dungeon was unnervingly silent. Their footsteps were swallowed by the fleshy metal floor. After a minute, Rocky held up a fist. Jerry froze, for once, silent.
Ahead, the corridor branched. From the left branch came a skittering, clicking sound.
Rocky peered around the corner. Two more Automatons, identical to the scout, were methodically scraping the wall with their claws, collecting flakes of the metal into a pile. Workers, not fighters. But they'd fight if disturbed.
He pulled back. "Two workers. Blind corner. Ten feet."
Jerry's grin turned sharp. "Distraction or demolition?"
Rocky considered. His arm still ached. His mana—if that's what the cold pool of energy in his gut was—felt low. The core was quiet, waiting. He needed data. "Distraction. Can you pull them past this opening?"
"Can I?" Jerry's eyes sparkled. He pulled a small, rubber ball from a pocket, gave it a hard squeeze until it chirped like a bird, then rolled it gently down the right-hand corridor.
The clicking stopped. The skittering intensified. The two worker Automatons scurried into view, their sensors fixed on the chirping ball as it bounced away.
"Now," Rocky whispered.
He willed the core to life. It responded faster this time, the liquid metal flowing up his arm. He didn't want a weapon. He needed a tool.
<< Intent: Restraint. Capture.>>
The metal formed into a complex, mesh-like net, anchored to his forearm with a launcher mechanism he didn't consciously design. It just felt right.
<< Proto-Form: [ENTANGLEMENT LAUNCHER].>>
He stepped out, aimed at the rear Automaton, and fired.
The net expanded mid-air, wrapping around the machine's legs. It crashed to the ground, whirring in protest.
The lead Automaton spun, its sensor flashing yellow. It ignored Jerry's ball and charged Rocky.
Wrong choice, Rocky thought coldly. He willed the net launcher to dissolve. The metal rushed back and reformed in a microsecond—into a simple, brutal hammer form.
<< Proto-Form: [IMPACT HAMMER].>>
He sidestepped the clumsy charge and swung. Not at the body, but at the same forward leg joint.
CRACK.
The leg sheared off. The Automaton spun and fell. Before it could right itself, Rocky brought the hammer down on its central sensor.
SHATTER.
Silence.
He turned. The netted Automaton was still struggling. Jerry stood over it, holding his silver-dust vial. "Finish it?"
Rocky looked at the trapped machine. It wasn't attacking. Just trying to free itself. A worker. "Does that vial destroy inorganic matter?"
"Yep! 'Disassembler Goo.' Turns tech into pretty glitter!"
"Save it." Rocky walked over. The hammer melted back into his hand. He focused. The core responded, shaping a thin, precise blade from his index finger.
<< Proto-Form: [PRECISION SCALPEL].>>
He knelt and, with three swift cuts, severed the primary power conduit running along the Automaton's spine. Its lights died. It went still.
"Huh," Jerry said, disappointed. "Less glittery."
"Information is more valuable than glitter," Rocky said, examining the severed conduit. The energy flowing through it was the same blue as the wall veins. He looked back the way the workers had come. "They were harvesting. For repair. Or growth. The anchor point is this way. And it's active."
A deep, resonant THRUM shook the corridor, confirming his words. The walls pulsed with urgent, brighter light.
"It knows we're here," Jerry said, his manic cheer undimmed. "It's waking up!"
"Then we move faster." Rocky stood, the scalpel retracting. He started down the left corridor at a jog, Jerry falling in beside him.
The corridor opened into a larger chamber. It was the source of the light. In the center of the room, a pillar of the same organic metal rose from floor to ceiling, throbbing with intense blue energy. Dozens of thick, vein-like conduits connected it to the walls, feeding energy back to the gate. This was the anchor.
Crouched around the base of the pillar were four Automatons—larger, bulkier. Their arms ended in rotating saws and welder torches. Guardian-Types.
And standing between them and the pillar, calmly adjusting a dial on a massive, comically complex rifle, was a girl.
She had twin braids of dark hair, each threaded with thin, copper wires. Goggles were pushed up on her forehead. Her jacket was covered in tool loops and pockets bulging with gadgets. She looked up as Rocky and Jerry entered.
"Took you two long enough," she said, her voice dry and laced with static. "The party's about to start, and the music's about to get loud."
The Guardian Automatons whirred, turning their saws toward the new arrivals.
The girl with the braids hefted her rifle, which hummed to life with a rising, electric whine. She gave Rocky a once-over, her eyes lingering on his metal-coated hand.
"Name's Jax," she said. "You must be the anomaly. Good timing. I need a disposable forward shield."
She pointed her rifle past him, at the advancing machines.
"So. Feel like being disposable?"
[End of Chapter 2]
Next Chapter Preview: Three versus four Guardian Automatons, with an unstable dungeon core throbbing at their backs. Jax has a plan involving "kinetic redistribution." Jerry has a plan involving "fireworks in their face-holes." Rocky has a plan involving the patterns in the machines' movement, the flow of energy in the pillar, and a very, very risky idea about what his Proto-Form can really do.