[You’ve gained: 500 gold and 1 two-handed axe of the headsman. Loot boosted by first-time boss kill. Total gold: 2,500.]

  While it wasn’t a replacement for my latest ruined leather jacket, I’d gotten my very own version of the boss’s weapon.

  Dickhead warned me before I could take it out and examine it. “Don’t take that thing out of your inventory.”

  I considered ignoring him. “Why not?” I removed the shredded jacket to examine it.

  “It’s got a fifty Strength requirement to even pick up. If you take it out, you won’t be able to lift it, let alone stow it back in your inventory.”

  I frowned at the tattered thing. There was no saving it, so I tossed it.

  I didn’t hand out thank-yous lightly, but he’d just saved me from making a mistake.

  “Thanks…”

  Once I got back to my Lair, I’d transfer the weapon directly into storage, at least until I was strong enough to use it.

  Gaius was inconsolable, but I didn’t have a rescue mission for him, so he could stay and rot for all I cared. I would’ve killed him to heal back up, but I wasn’t willing to risk retroactively failing the objective.

  I touched the cage and waited for the prompt.

  [Freelancer rescued. Would you like to hire this Refiner for 1,000 gold?]

  [Unhired Freelancers are sent to the general recruitment pool for all players.]

  [Yes] [No]

  Jesus, they were getting expensive. I tapped on Yes since I had the gold.

  [You’ve spent: 1,000 gold. Total gold: 1,500.]

  [Instance update: Rescue both Freelancers, complete.]

  I’d completed all the Instance objectives and quests. And while I could hunt down and eat each of the escaped prisoners, that would mean chasing them until they ran out of Mana, which wasn’t the best use of my time.

  I checked my inventory: a sailor’s head, a hearthrune, a bottle of Macallan 18, a billy club, a FrankUp coin, and my brand-spanking-new two-handed axe of the headsman. That left four inventory slots open, and I was still alive. I could see why most players needed a group to complete that Instance. Critical Thinking had definitely been the right choice for my first feat.

  I surveyed the inner courtyard and found a door that led to Cell Block C, which was empty. I’d keep that in mind if I ever ran this Instance again.

  With nothing else left to do in this dump, I activated the gravekey on my hotbar.

  [Exiting the Isle of Lost Hope, level 1 Instance. Please wait…]

  [Welcome to your Lair.]

  I reconstituted in the hallway of my Lair, noticing it was the exact tile as before. The vending machine hummed behind me; otherwise, it was deathly silent.

  “Dick, is there any way to change where I show up when I gravekey into my Lair?”

  “Nope, it’ll always drop you on the origin tile.”

  I scoffed. “Can’t drop me there if I delete the damn thing.”

  “You can’t. There are a few things you can’t delete or remove from your Lair, the origin tile and the vending machine being two of them.”

  I grunted. The argument wasn’t worth my time, especially not when I had credits to collect. I opened my Menu and pulled up my achievements.

  UPDATED!

  +28 NPCs killed.

  +3 Bosses killed.

  +1 Instances completed.

  +3,010 Total gold earned.

  +2,410 Max gold.

  +20 Total credits earned.

  +37 Lair size.

  +2 Freelancers hired.

  +15 Quests & objectives completed.

  I closed the Menu and received a notification.

  [You’ve gained: 337 credits from new achievement milestones. Total credits: 2,451.]

  My “quests completed” seemed high, so I asked about it. Dickhead told me that each objective counted as a quest, which explained the number.

  On my way to the storage room, I ran into two skeletons wandering the hallway.

  “Jesus Christ!” I exclaimed, not expecting anyone else in my damn Lair.

  I was ready to pummel the bastards when Dickhead shouted, “Wait!”

  With my fist cocked and ready, I froze. “How the hell did they get in here?”

  “Those are your Freelancers.”

  I sighed, unclenching my fists.

  “Why are they skeletons?”

  “You Know Who must think that’s a setting-appropriate race.”

  I wanted to ask why they weren’t zombies like me, but at least they were regular skeletons and not fungalshades. Then one of the pricks walked up to me and stuck out a bony hand.

  “Thank you for hiring me,” he said. “It’ll be a pleasure working for you, sire.”

  I eyed his outstretched hand and then shook it. A System prompt appeared.

  [Choose a name for Gatherer Freelancer.]

  “Jesus, not you too? Doesn’t anyone have a name around here?”

  [Jesus, accepted.]

  “Dammit, that’s not what I—”

  “Thank you, sire,” Jesus said as he shook my hand. “I won’t let you down.”

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  “Dick, I thought you said all these guys were ex-players?”

  The next skeleton stepped up to me and held out its hand like this was a meet and greet.

  “What’ll it be, boss?” she asked, sounding way too chipper.

  “They do,” Dickhead said. “But it’s all alien to you. Think of it like giving them nicknames you can pronounce.” He hesitated. “On second thought, maybe don’t give them nicknames. They’re real people with genuine feelings, so please be kind.”

  “Fine,” I grumbled.

  I took her hand, waited for the damn prompt, and said, “Pepper.”

  [Pepper, accepted.]

  “I await your orders, boss!” Pepper took a step back.

  Having to name them was dumb, and I hated it. Naming shit was how you got attached. That’s how I ended up with a damn cat. He was just the neighborhood stray until I called him Shithead. Then the shithead waltzed right up to me, purring and rubbing up against my pants.

  He let me grab him and take him to the vet for shots and a neutering, but they refused to write Shithead on his record. So I gave Shithead an alias: Bruce. It was short for Bruce Wayne.

  I scratched my chin, wondering what had happened to him.

  “Dick, what did they do with all the other animals on Earth, like our pets?”

  Dickhead sighed. “You shouldn’t have banished that feat if you wanted a pet.”

  “I don’t. I’m just asking.”

  “Uh… best not to think about it.”

  That was his way of saying DungeonCore had killed my damn cat. Franking assholes.

  Sure, I threatened to murder the little bastard at least once a day. He was always knocking shit off the tables and counters. And he loved kicking the litter out of the damn box. But he was my little bastard.

  I sighed.

  I was really going to miss Shithead.

  Dammit, I’d already lost track of Jesus. I couldn’t tell one skeleton from the other now that they’d gone back to roaming the hallway.

  “Can I change their race?”

  “You don’t like skeletons?”

  “It’s just hard to tell them apart.”

  “Not without using the forbidden acronym, and it’s a purely cosmetic change.”

  While I wasn’t one for splurging on cosmetics, a Lair full of werewolves sounded awesome.

  “There’s a QoL to change my minions?”

  “Freelancers,” he corrected. “But yes.”

  Maybe after the profanity toggle, I thought.

  I was afraid my manager might be growing on me like Shithead had. I almost felt bad for calling him Dickhead. Almost.

  I strolled into the storage room and transferred the bottle of Macallan 18 along with the two-handed axe of the headsman into the storage chest.

  Then, I took out my FrankUp coin and flipped it into the air. A System prompt appeared.

  [Choose one attribute to increase.]

  [Strength]

  [Dexterity]

  [Toughness]

  [Perception]

  [Willpower]

  [Fortitude]

  I tapped on Dexterity.

  [Your Dexterity has increased to level 12.]

  I knew my usable Dexterity was only ten because of the 20% debuff I got from Rigor Motive. But shoring up my weakest attribute was the best way to improve my ability to hit stuff, which was all I really cared about.

  [New feat chance increased to 10%.]

  Even though I’d fully expected to whiff at getting a new feat, it still sucked when it didn’t trigger. I felt an urge to go out, get another coin, and try again.

  I didn’t know why I always glanced up at the ceiling to talk to Dickhead, but I did.

  “Dick, if I go back to the Instance, I can run it again, right?” I figured now that I knew the patrols and how to cheese all the bosses, it’d be a quick farm.

  “You can next week,” he said. “There’s a weekly cooldown for each Instance. You should do the next part of your questline while we’re here.”

  I’d learned at least to hear my manager out before telling him off. “And why’s that?”

  “Any Freelancers without their basic needs met will lose morale, even when they aren’t working.”

  “Don’t tell me I’ve got to get them gifts and shit. I already told you I’m not dating any of them.”

  “No, they don’t need gifts, just a place to sleep, access to food, and something to do.”

  “Fine.” I had to go to the Lair terminal to open my damn chests anyway.

  Stepping up to the terminal, I entered Build Mode.

  “Uh, Dick…” I said. “Am I supposed to build this shit by hand? Nothing new in the menus.”

  “Go back to the Upgrades screen.”

  I zoomed back into my body, pulled up the submenu, and scanned for what was new under Upgrades.

  General Prefabs

  (New!) Barracks: 500 gold

  (New!) Mess Hall: 500 gold

  (New!) Small Warehouse: 500 gold

  Additional purchasable rooms unlock as discovered.

  I checked my current gold. I had exactly enough for all three.

  “Dammit, Dick. That’s going to use up all my gold. I won’t even be able to afford a hearthrune with what’s left over.”

  “It’s fine. We’ll only ever need one mess hall, and each barracks fits up to four Freelancers. You could put the small warehouse off for now, but then Jesus won’t have anywhere to deliver raw materials.”

  “Materials?” That sounded a lot like free shit. I liked free shit.

  “Yeah, he’s a Gatherer, remember? Completing the next objective should give you a treasure chest with a resource node map inside. We can clear the area and then let Jesus get to work. He’ll bring back resources and store them in a warehouse if there’s room.”

  The idea of putting Jesus to work was tempting, but something didn’t add up.

  “Hold up, what the hell do skeletons eat?”

  “I don’t know, but they eat something; You Know Who won’t overlook that. It’s built into the formula for morale.”

  “Fine, but how much space is this going to take up? I’m down to five free tiles.”

  “Prefabs automatically come complete with tiles and furniture. You just drop them in, add a doorway, and you’re done.”

  That did sound handy.

  “Fine,” I said, tapping on all three prefabs.

  [You’ve spent: 1,500 gold. Total gold: 0.]

  I winced at the new total—I hated being broke.

  I entered Build Mode again and asked, “That bottle of Macallan 18 worth anything?”

  “You could probably get fifty gold for it.”

  I accidentally highlighted my room and found out I could just move it to another section of my Lair if I wanted, so none of the rooms appeared to be permanent. Good, I didn’t want to screw myself into a corner with poor planning.

  I slapped the barracks next to my room, the mess hall on the other side of the barracks, and the warehouse adjacent to the storage room. I figured I should keep like things together, right?

  [Freelancing - Objective: Build a barracks, mess hall, and warehouse, complete.]

  [You’ve gained 1 Uncommon chest.]

  [New objective: Clear a resource node and assign a Freelancer.]

  I took a tour of the new rooms. The barracks turned out to be a small 3x2 tile room with four large birdcage-looking things, one hanging in each corner.

  “What are those things?”

  “Uh… the back end is calling it a crow’s cage, but it counts as a bed.”

  “A bed? Jesus, that’s bleak.”

  A skeleton appeared behind me. “You called, sire?”

  I waved him off. “I wasn’t talking about you.”

  “Of course, sire. Oh! I see you’ve prepared a place for us to rest. How kind!”

  The rusted hinges whined as he opened the door to let himself in. He sat down with his legs sticking through and stopped moving.

  I waited a moment, but he didn’t move.

  “Jesus?” I asked, hoping he didn’t just up and die on me.

  The skeleton sat up immediately. “Yes, sire?”

  “Just making sure you’re comfortable in there…”

  “Most definitely.” He leaned against the side and resumed his little “nap.”

  I found Pepper in the 4x4 tile mess hall enjoying a glass of milk. She tipped it back; the opaque white liquid dripped down her empty throat, coating her bones until there wasn’t a drop left.

  While I found amusement in learning what skeletons ate, I said, “That shit better not cost me credits like the vending machine.”

  “A Freelancer’s actions will never cost you credits,” Dickhead assured me. “That would go on their own account. Using the mess hall is part of the daily fee you spend.”

  I’d forgotten about the daily upkeep. “And how much is that?”

  “Five gold per Freelancer per day. It covers room and board.”

  “Great,” I scoffed. “I don’t even have enough to pay them…”

  “Opening your treasure chests should provide enough,” my manager said.

  I was beginning to think Dickhead was an honest-to-goodness decent person—always trying to cheer me up. And it worked. I forgot all about the 4x4 small warehouse and went back to the Lair terminal.

  Checking my rewards brought a smile to my face.

  “Hell yeah,” I said, summoning every last treasure chest.

  I spun around and marveled at all eight of the knee-high chests. Four of them were common, three glowed green, and the last was blue.

  I got to kicking.

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  Frank's Lair with or without grids?