“Bleahghh,” I sputtered, eyes closed and half-gagging at the strange goo covering me. Somehow, it’d even gotten in my eyes. Keeping them closed, I set Waffle down before using part of my dress to towel the snot from my face. “How do you even have this much snot in you?!” I asked the baby wombat, who was already climbing back into my lap from where I’d placed him, “and why is it purple?”

  Waffle gave a tired squeak in response, wobbling unsteadily across my lap as I continued to mop away discharge with my sleeves. I frowned at the purple stains smeared across my dress.

  “Relax,” Belial started, “I’m sure that’ll wash right out.”

  “You need to stop using that word, especially after you made me think he was about to die.” I snapped, watching as Waffle ambled groggily towards his pocket. He was clearly exhausted, and ready to be tucked inside.

  I held the pocket open, chewing the inside of my lip as he struggled to squeeze himself in. His little legs swam against my dress to aid the effort. Thanks to the root, he’d grown nearly four times his original size, all in the span of a few hours. There was no way growing that fast was good for his body.

  “I did not,” Belial replied, offended. “I tried to tell you he was having a reaction to the dust; it’s hardly my fault you wouldn’t listen.”

  “You said there was something wrong.” I crossed my arms, face torn between anger at Belial and worry for the exhausted wombat still struggling with half his body stuck outside his pocket.

  Waffle gave a stubborn grunt, his front paws scrabbling for purchase against the rubber lining. I pushed his butt to help him squeeze inside, frowning at the now noticeable bulge along the side of my dress. The fabric puffed up and down while he caught his breath.

  “I did? With what?”

  I sucked air between my teeth, doing my best not to explode. “With the sample…of the vine he ate.” My face twisted when he didn’t respond right away.

  “Oh, that sample. Sorry, I was multi-tasking. You were right; it’s the same as what’s in your flowers.”

  A dull ache started at the center of my chest as I thought of my mother. I eyed the half-eaten vine Waffle had gotten into, the image of her drenched in Rheinan’s blood worming its way into my mind.

  “Is he going to be okay? It won’t make him a monster—will it?”

  “Huh? He’s already a monster.” Belial replied, confused.

  “Don’t lie to me.” I snapped, suspecting he might be holding back for my sake. “If he’s going to turn, I need to know.”

  “…turn?”

  “Like my mother,” I practically spat, “how long does he have?”

  “Like your—is that why you started thinking about your mother? Sorry, I stop listening when you do that…it’s always kind of depressing.” My eyes bulged. “You don’t have to worry about Waffle. It doesn’t seem to affect animals the same way. In fact, thanks to your mouth being open when he sneezed, I was able to analyze his DNA as well. Happy to provide the little fuzzball with a clean bill of health.”

  “A clean—You can tell that from his snot?” My shoulders dropped then tightened again, as if my body weren’t sure whether to feel relief or rage. “Then why were you so worried?”

  “I was worried about your numbers.”

  “My numbers?” I blurted, confused.

  “Yes, and I won’t lie to you. They aren’t great. You lost over ten thousand followers.”

  “Followers?” I shook my head. “No. Why are you still doing that? I told you to stop.”

  “First, no you didn’t. And second, because I’m trying to get you more sponsors.”

  “What part of no don’t you understand?”

  He gave a wounded huff before answering. “Come now, you’re being unreasonable, I don’t see what the harm is--”

  “You convinced a grieving widow that I was having an affair with her husband and got a bounty placed on my head.”

  “That was one time.”

  “No.” I repeated, “Staying alive is hard enough without you pissing people off.”

  “But it’s fun, and I’m being nice!”

  “If you’re being nice then why did I lose ten thousand followers?” I asked, arms crossed.

  “Ah, right. That one’s not my fault. When you reunited with Waffle, I posted a picture of him and…well, this whole toddler look isn’t doing him any favors.”

  “What?” I blinked rapidly.

  “People liked him better as a baby. But don’t worry, I’m already working on a way to turn him back…we’re just going to need a syringe and some ingredients from the marketplace.”

  “Turn him—no. What is wrong with you. I don’t care what people like. I am not injecting him with something to make him small.”

  “Fine.” He relented with a sigh of disappointment. “But you do need sponsors…at least, according to CatQueen67.”

  “Who—?” My face contorted.

  “She’s one of your fans!” he informed, excitedly, “according to her, unsponsored gladiators seldom make it past the second floor.”

  I let out a sigh, eyeing the ground as I considered for a moment. If they could send me something to deal with the spiders, letting Belial find me sponsors might be worth the risk, especially if it meant I’d reach the third floor before anyone else.

  “Well,” I said, expectantly, “did you get me any?”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “I’m close, they’re holding out to see if you survive the second floor.”

  “Don’t I need them to—forget it. I need to get out of this hole.”

  I’d wasted enough time arguing with Belial. Between dealing with him and rescuing Waffle, the day was almost spent. I gave the lump on my dress an accusing stare, shaking my head as it began jerking violently away from my body. I couldn’t help but snort when he finished flipping himself around, his little nose sticking out of the pocket as he rasped an exhausted peep.

  “What’s that?” I asked, smile fading into curiosity as I noticed a slight depression in the wall. It was only a few feet across. Somehow, I’d missed it in all the excitement.

  “Uh. That’s a hole. I swear you’re getting stupider as time goes on.”

  “Not what I meant,” I hissed. Moving closer, its walls were carved out in smooth, overlapping arcs, as if it’d been dug. That wasn’t all, there were more of them, each perfectly round and boring in from different angles. “What do you think dug all these?”

  I was surprised I hadn’t noticed them earlier, but the cavity was dark, and the light above had already dwindled noticeably.

  “Some kind of animal, obviously.”

  “Wow,” I rolled my eyes, “guess we know where all my intelligence is going.”

  “Oh, ha ha. Either way, I suggest we climb out of here before we find out.”

  Sighing in agreement, I moved to where the walls were closest together. Trying to climb up directly would likely result in me sliding back down like Waffle had, but the walls were close enough to give me an idea.

  With my limbs pressed to either side, I forced my way upward a few inches at a time. Sweat dripped from my forehead, soaking strands of hair and stinging my eyes. With my arms and legs preoccupied, I tried to blink it away, groaning when the sting persisted. I turned my mind elsewhere, trying to distract myself from the fact that I’d barely climbed a fourth of the way up.

  “How do you know Waffle won’t become violent or whatever?” I asked, grunting.

  My right foot had started to slip, dislodging some of the soil and almost stopping my heart before it finally snagged on a root a few inches below. I hung there for a second, catching my breath as Belial answered.

  “His mother,” he replied, confusing me, “she’d clearly eaten some of whatever was making the animals larger, yet she was sane enough not to murder her offspring, unlike your,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “well, you get the idea.”

  “Do you think those spiders are eating the roots as well?” I asked, frowning as I dangled with my legs pressed to either side of the wall. Something about that idea didn’t sit right. My face wrinkled as I tried to imagine those things grazing peacefully on anything but flesh.

  “Maybe, but I think it’s more likely they’re one part of a larger eco-system.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, lifting a leg to continue my grueling ascent.

  Every muscle in my legs ached from the way I was climbing. I’d almost made it three quarters of the way up, a frown forming at what little light still bled in from the gash overhead. The day was gone.

  “What I mean is, the spiders are probably preying on whatever’s eating the roots…”

  “How? If their prey ate the roots first, wouldn’t they be bigger than the spiders?” I tried imagining a bunch of smaller spiders trying to overwhelm something the size of Waffle’s mom. Somehow, that idea seemed even more terrifying.

  My hand found a thick root jutting from the soil, the first of several, conveniently spaced like rungs of a ladder along one side of the hole. I abandoned my straddled position and swung both legs to that wall, letting the roots take my weight instead. The edge was almost in reach, just a few feet overhead. I pulled myself up to the next rung, starting to feel the cool night air brushing over my face when Belial’s voice stopped me.

  “Wait.” he said, hushed. “I hear something.”

  I went still, limbs burning as I hung there, listening for whatever put him on edge. A soft rumble reached my ears. Low and rhythmic. I glanced at the pocket on my dress and snorted. “It’s just Waffle snoring.”

  “Shh. Not that. Listen.”

  I didn’t have to. The sound was plain now. Muffled footsteps echoed through the dirt overhead, close enough to shake soil loose from the wall, sprinkling my face before they halted.

  “Got something,” a woman shouted from somewhere up above.

  I was still several feet down, limbs starting to tremble, both from the effort of hanging there and the adrenaline starting to course through my veins. Thankfully, the false sun had completely vanished. I flattened myself against the wall, hoping the darkness and the web of roots over the entrance would be enough to keep me hidden. She would have to press her face between the roots to spot me. If she did, I could launch myself upward and pull her inside.

  “Calm down,” Belial said, already slowing my racing heart, “there’s still a chance they’re friendly—”

  “It’s her hammer,” the woman called out, making Belial’s suggestion extremely unlikely.

  Worse, unless that woman was talking to herself, there were at least two of them I’d need to deal with.

  “Well look at that. The little bitch was right.” Came a man’s voice as feet scraped closer to the edge.

  I closed my eyes, knowing they’d be easy to spot from above. The rest of my body may as well have been made of dirt for how caked in it I was. I trusted the shadows and the layer of grime I wore to keep me hidden while my mind reeled through options. I could try to lose them in the tunnels below, but that meant abandoning my hammer. Running into whatever dug them without it would end just as badly, and even if I survived, I still needed to make it past the spiders. Doing that unarmed seemed even more impossible. No. The only real choice was to fight, running now would only ensure my death later. My grip tightened around the root I clung to, jaw setting in determination. There were only two of them, if I caught them off guard—I froze as more footsteps thudded in my direction, followed by the rasp of something heavy scraping over dirt.

  “How many is that?” I asked, trying to count the footsteps.

  “At least two more, it sounds like they’re dragging something between them.”

  My heart sank. Two against one was bad enough. The thought of fending off four gladiators overpowered any curiosity I had over what they were dragging, or who this ‘little bitch’ was.

  “Can you make me stronger? Like with the lobster?”

  “I could, but I doubt you’d be able to stay conscious very long afterwards.”

  I gnawed at the inside of my lip, knowing what he meant. It sounded like someone guided them here. Even if by some miracle I took down all four, I’d be passed out in the middle of a forest.

  “Ye find er’?” called another voice from several feet away. The accent reminded me of Oren, only old and bitter, as if his lilt had been weathered by time.

  “Guessing she fell between these roots, I can’t see shit down there.”

  “Look ‘arder--And you, don’ touch tha’.” The older man ordered, his voice stopping a few feet behind the others.

  “Why the hell not?” The woman asked, sounding annoyed. “I’m the one who found it.”

  “Leave it.” The older man snapped. “Where is she?”

  There was a pause, followed by a soft thud and quiet whimper that made me think he’d struck the woman, until a new voice spoke. It sounded like a girl closer to my age.

  “I don’t--know. I can feel her nearby.” She said, her voice shaking slightly.

  Feel? She can feel me?

  A muffled thump came, followed shortly by wheezing. I’d been struck in the stomach enough times to know he’d kicked her in the diaphragm.

  “Ye’ best no’ be wastin our time, witch.” The older man said, before addressing one of the others. “Muzzle her again.”

  “I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that girl is the one who led them here.”

  Movement near the edge of the hole made me close my eyes again. I held my breath as I imagined one of them trying to spot me where I hung. They were silent for far too long. The quiet pressed down on me, feeling as heavy as the packed earth I clung to.

  “Doubt she’s in there. Holes not wide enough for a person.” One of the men assessed, his voice moving as he turned to address someone behind him.

  “Probably running from something when she dropped this. Bet we pick up her trail if we keep moving in this direction.” Another suggested, their voice growing more distant as they spoke.

  My muscles relaxed, hope swelling in my chest as footsteps clopped against the dirt, growing fainter with each thud. I couldn’t believe my luck. They were leaving on their own. I just needed to wait until they were gone, then I’d burst through the roots over the entrance, grab my hammer and run the opposite direction. I exhaled a slow, shaky breath, before pulling a fresh one in through my nose to steady myself.

  All my optimism vanished at the feeling of something sharp pressed against my cheek. I opened my eyes, a dull ache forming in the back of my throat as the tip of a spear came into focus. My eyes traced the length of the spear, stopping at the hands of an old man, his sunken face etched with more scars than unmarked flesh. It was a trick. They’d seen me after all. His mouth twisted into a cruel grin, somehow made even more predatory by virtue of not having a lower lip.

  “Found ye’, lass.”

  Thanks for reading! Let me know if anyone can think of a better word to use than "discharge" for that part early in the chapter.

  Everyone dies, but I get to live again. And again. And again.

  When I died, my soul followed the usual cycle of reincarnation… until I was caught by higher dimensional pirates. Fortunately, I was saved before anything came of that, and along the way I picked up a special skill that made me immune to the usual loss of memories between lives. It also let me keep my stats and my skills—the elements of my new System—which I would gain in each life, carrying them into the next.

  So what’s a guy to do when he’s reborn as a baby in a new world? Learn the local magic, for starters. Navigate how my System works, and learn how to pick up stats and skills to help me survive and thrive in my new life, and all the lives that will follow. Maybe, along the way, figure out how to find some meaning in all of this, setting goals for myself in each life and trying to find fulfillment and happiness across the vast collection of worlds in the multiverse.

  This is my life—or rather, these are my infinite, endless, serial lives. And I’ll keep living them… as long as I don’t get soul-killed or encounter some other disaster I can’t even comprehend yet. Hopefully, I can live them right.

  A slow-burn, slice-of-lives serial reincarnation LitRPG about the journey of living through multiple isekai fantasies.