The Hall of Narratives Status: Critical Failure

  "Ctrl-Z! Ctrl-Z!"

  The Weaver was screaming. He was mashing his hand against a runestone on the table that wasn't connected to anything. "Undo! Revert to save! I made it too spiky!"

  "Boring!" The Trickster cackled, swinging from a chandelier made of constellations. "You can't undo an apocalypse, Scribbles! You have to ride the wave!"

  The holographic map was flashing red. The entity labeled [BOSS_ENTITY_01] was spinning wildly, its stats climbing higher and higher as The Trickster dumped a flask of glowing pink liquid labeled 'Physics Engine Override' onto the projection.

  "Stop touching the board!" The Weaver yelled, trying to shield the map with his parchment robes. "You're overclocking the AI! It’s going to achieve sentience and realize it’s a metaphor for my anxiety!"

  "Let it!" The War-Father roared, chugging a barrel of ambrosia. He slammed a fist onto the table, knocking over a bowl of 'Divine Confectionery'—glowing, star-sugar candies meant for snacks.

  The candy spilled. It rained down onto the holographic map, burying the Boss Token in a pile of sugar.

  "I bet fifty souls on the Dragon!" The War-Father bellowed.

  "I bet on the gravity!" The Trickster countered. "Watch this. I’m going to randomize the breath weapon. Let's make it breathe... Kinetic Rebound Gas."

  The Weaver looked at the screen in horror as the parameters shifted.

  [Breath Weapon: FIRE] -> [Breath Weapon: RUBBERIZED CHAOS] [Loot Table: STANDARD] -> [Loot Table: SUGAR_RUSH_CORRUPTED]

  "No!" The Weaver reached for the stone communicator. "I have to warn him. I have to tell Kaelen that the floor is about to become a suggestion!"

  The Trickster slapped the Weaver’s hand away. "No spoilers! Let them cook!"

  The Weaver groaned, his head hitting the mahogany table with a thud. "I need a vacation. I need to go manage a romance novel. Something quiet. With rain."

  The Inner Sanctum

  The red light blinded us.

  I shielded my eyes as the explosion of the Bone Colossus settled. When I lowered my arm, the room had changed.

  The Colossus was gone. In its place, hovering ten feet off the ground on wings made of torn banners and solidified shadow, was a dragon.

  It was entirely skeletal, fifty feet long from snout to tail, and its bones glowed with a pulsating, angry crimson light. It didn't look like a mindless construct anymore. It looked like a predator.

  It roared, and the sound shattered the remaining urns in the room.

  "Back!" Captain Vane shouted, grabbing the collar of a stunned soldier and dragging him into the hallway. "Everyone back to the corridor! That thing is going to fill this room with fire!"

  Vane retreated to the safety of the doorframe, her sword raised, expecting us to follow.

  We didn't.

  I stood my ground, planting my feet.

  Faelar took a step forward, tilting his head. "Look at the ribs on that beastie," the dwarf mused, ignoring the terrifying roar. "You could make a xylophone out of that. Or a very large broth."

  "It’s flying," Liam noted, drawing an arrow. "That complicates the geometry."

  "A puppy!" Elmsworth clapped his hands. "A big, floaty bone-puppy! Sit! Stay!"

  The Dragon turned its massive skull toward the tiny gnome. Its jaw unhinged. A glowing light built up in its throat.

  "Fire!" Vane screamed from the doorway. "Take cover!"

  The Dragon exhaled.

  But it wasn't fire.

  A cloud of bright, neon-pink mist erupted from the dragon’s maw. It washed over the stone floor, the walls, and the pillars. It slammed into the Misfits.

  I braced for the heat. I expected to burn.

  Boing.

  The mist hit my shield. It didn't burn. It bounced off.

  The mist hit the floor. The ancient stone tiles instantly took on a shiny, rubbery texture.

  Faelar, who had been charging forward, stomped his boot down to pivot. Instead of gripping the stone, his boot sank into the floor like it was made of trampoline material.

  SPROING.

  "Waaaaah!"

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

  Faelar launched into the air. He flew thirty feet up, hit the ceiling (which was also now rubber), bounced off it, and ricocheted toward the wall.

  "I’m a bird!" Faelar shrieked, bouncing off the west wall and flying toward the east wall.

  "The floor..." I tested my footing. I pushed down. The stone pushed back. "The floor is rubber."

  The Dragon roared again, seemingly confused that its fire was pink, and lashed out with its tail.

  The tail hit the floor. BOING. The massive skeletal limb bounced up, hitting the Dragon in its own face.

  CLACK.

  In the doorway, Captain Vane lowered her sword. She stared. She blinked.

  "What..." Vane whispered. "What is happening?"

  Behind her, the soldiers—still high on the morale-boosting stew and feeling invincible—started laughing.

  "Look at the dwarf!" one sergeant wheezed, pointing. Faelar was currently ping-ponging between two pillars at Mach 2, cackling like a maniac. "He’s a pinball!"

  "Ten gold he hits the dragon!" another soldier cheered.

  Vane looked at her men, then at the chaotic bouncy castle inside the boss room. She slowly sheathed her sword. She took a step back, leaned against the doorframe, and shook her head.

  "I quit," Vane muttered. "I officially resign from reality."

  Inside the room, the stone on my belt buzzed.

  "My bad," the Weaver’s voice groaned in my ear. "Input error. Physics engine corrupted. Hit it hard enough and it should... pop."

  "Pop?" I asked.

  I looked at Faelar, who was gaining velocity with every bounce. I looked at the Dragon, which was flailing in the air, trying to catch the dwarf.

  I smiled.

  "Liam!" I shouted. "Bank shot!"

  "On it!" Liam shouted back.

  The elf didn't shoot the dragon. He shot the floor.

  He fired a grapple-arrow into the rubberized stone. The rope went taut. Liam grabbed the line and jumped.

  BOING.

  Liam launched himself into a parabolic arc, soaring over the Dragon’s head.

  "Elmsworth! Boost him!" I ordered.

  "Up we go!" Elmsworth pointed his staff at Faelar, who was whizzing past.

  [Casting: Enlarge/Reduce]

  Faelar instantly doubled in size. He was now a giant, drunk, rubber-bouncing dwarf projectile.

  "I’m a cannonball!" Faelar roared.

  "Kaelen! Alley-oop!" Faelar shouted as he bounced toward me.

  I didn't catch him. I braced my shield, angling it upward.

  Faelar hit the shield.

  CRACK-SPROING.

  My knees bent, absorbing the impact, and I launched Faelar straight up—directly at the Dragon’s exposed ribcage.

  "FOR THE SNACKS!" Faelar screamed.

  He hit the Dragon mid-air.

  The impact was catastrophic. The massive skeletal beast was knocked out of the sky. It crashed into the rubber floor, bounced ten feet up, crashed again, and bounced again.

  "Get him, Willow!" Liam shouted from the ceiling, where he was hanging by his grapple rope.

  Willow summoned her spectral Ladle.

  "Pinata time!" Willow yelled.

  The giant golden spoon began to smack the bouncing dragon. WHACK. WHACK. WHACK.

  The soldiers in the hallway were howling with laughter now, slapping each other on the back, placing bets on how many bounces the dragon would take before it broke. Vane just massaged her temples, trying to block out the madness.

  The Dragon’s red light began to flicker. It turned pink. Then white.

  It let out a final, confused squeak.

  POP.

  It didn't die like a monster. It didn't turn to dust.

  It exploded like a party favor.

  A shockwave of glitter and light blasted outward. I raised my shield, but I wasn't hit by shrapnel.

  I was hit by candy.

  Thousands of pieces of hard candy, wrapped taffy, and chocolate coins rained down from the ceiling. Mixed in with the sugar were showers of actual gold coins and heavy, glowing items of power.

  The rubber effect on the room vanished instantly.

  Faelar fell from the ceiling, landing in a pile of gold and gummy bears.

  "Oof," the dwarf grunted. He sat up. He picked up a piece of taffy. He unwrapped it and ate it.

  "Chewy," Faelar noted. "With a hint of... divine negligence."

  Silence fell over the room.

  Vane walked in slowly, her boots crunching on hard candies. She looked at the pile of loot where the terrifying necromantic dragon used to be.

  "Is that..." Vane poked a pile of sugar with her toe. "Is that taffy?"

  "It’s loot," I said, standing up and brushing glitter off my shoulder. "Don't ask."

  "I wasn't going to," Vane said softly.

  I walked to the center of the pile. The Weaver had promised us tools. And the Weaver—despite his drinking problem—delivered.

  I reached into the pile and pulled out a spear.

  It was magnificent. The shaft was made of white, cold metal that felt weightless. The tip was a single shard of crystal that hummed with a low, dangerous frequency.

  [Item Acquired: The Sun-Piercer] A spear that ignores armor. It hums when danger is near. It glows when the truth is spoken.

  I tossed it. It balanced perfectly in my hand.

  "Liam," I called out.

  I kicked a black leather quiver across the floor. Liam caught it.

  [Item Acquired: The Quiver of Whispers] Never runs empty. If you have no arrows, the shadows will provide.

  "Nice," Liam whispered, running his hand over the leather.

  "Faelar," I pointed to a heavy leather bandolier resting on a pile of chocolate coins.

  Faelar grabbed it. He slid a bottle of wine into one of the loops. The bottle vanished, absorbed into the leather, and a new empty loop appeared.

  [Item Acquired: The Brewer’s Bandolier] Holds infinite bottles. Any liquid placed inside ferments instantly. Bottles never break.

  "I’m going to marry it," Faelar wept, clutching the bandolier to his chest.

  "And Elmsworth..." I spotted a robe. It was shimmering, changing color from blue to red to plaid every few seconds.

  Elmsworth put it on. He instantly turned invisible, then visible, then blue, then normal.

  [Item Acquired: The Robe of Probability] Grants resistance to whatever damage type you last took. (Currently: Candy Damage).

  Finally, I saw something glinting near Vane’s feet. A simple, elegant longsword made of silvery metal, untouched by the rust of the dungeon.

  "Vane," I said.

  She looked down. She picked it up. It was light, sharp enough to cut the air itself. Mithril. A king’s blade.

  "Hazard pay," I said.

  Vane looked at the sword, then at me. She didn't argue. She just nodded, sliding the blade into her sheath. It fit perfectly.

  "You people are insane," Vane said, but there was no venom in it. Just a tired respect. "But you get results."

  I unclipped the stone from my belt. I walked away from the group, toward the back of the room where a spiral staircase led upward—toward fresh air.

  "Weaver," I whispered.

  "Ugh," the voice that answered was weak. "Please. No loud noises. I have a headache the size of a galaxy."

  "We're clear," I said. "The dragon is... popped."

  "Good," the Weaver groaned. "I’m going to go lie down in a nebula for a few centuries. No more updates. You’re on your own for a bit."

  "Weaver," I paused. "Thanks for the candy."

  "Go away," the stone clicked off.

  I clipped the stone back to my belt. I turned to my team.

  They were a mess. Covered in glitter, eating floor-candy, armed with weapons that could kill gods.

  "Is it over?" Willow asked, wiping chocolate off her cheek. "Can we go home?"

  I looked at the stairs. I thought about the Juggernaut. I thought about Malacor, the threat looming over the world, and the game board the Weaver had described.

  "No," I said, my voice hard. "We aren't done. Malacor is still out there. And now... we have the gear to find him."

  I hefted the Sun-Piercer.

  "Time to get out of here," I said. "We need to get back on track. We have a world to save."

  "And then snacks?" Faelar asked hopefully.

  "And then snacks," I promised. "Move out."