“Not likely, shrimp-for-brains!” Silas roared and slingshotted himself at the Player.

  CLACK-CLACK-CLACK!

  The kidult’s rifle fired wildly, missing me by centimeters, and I hit the deck. Silas latched onto his face, and I heard muffled screams as the kidult tried to pry Silas off.

  “I’ve met sea cucumbers that are stronger than you!” Silas ranted.

  He’d saved me, but it left me with my HP rapidly draining. I quickly grabbed the rifle from my inventory. The thing was huge, weighed a ton, and had one round.

  Silas wailed on the kidult with four of his tentacles, but he did very little damage despite being level 99. “You hapless biped! You can’t even—”

  The kidult ripped Silas off his face, hurled him to the ground in a heap, then aimed his rifle at him.

  Silas shrieked and held his tentacles over his face.

  If that octopus died, so did my chance of getting out of this soft-lock, so I shot the kidult with the AMR. The boom deafened me, and the Player’s chest exploded in a shower of numbers, glitter, and bullets, which clinked to the floor and dissolved along with the rest of him. To my dismay, his rifle evaporated before I even got close to grabbing it.

  I glowed with light immediately after, but I ignored whatever it was. I had other things to worry about.

  Nothing remained of the Player except a smoking pair of boots and a small loot box, which I hurried over to. By some miracle, he’d had a medkit.

  I used it, and bandages materialized over my torso, stabilizing my HP drain but not restoring my health further. I’d gotten down to 4% health, which was even lower than when the caveman had nearly bonked me to death.

  I sighed with relief and collapsed next to Silas. “This game sucks.”

  Silas wiped his orange brow ridge and shook his head. “I had him… also, you’re welcome. I saved your life, again.”

  Now that I had a free moment, I checked all the loot I’d acquired. The AMR description read:

  | Rook’s Revenge – Level 100 AMR Sniper Rifle |

  | Caliber: Unknown |

  | The legend of Rook, a sniper of unparalleled accuracy, precision, and resolve, has been passed down through generations. Her (yes, Rook was definitely a girl) abilities caught the notice of criminals, aliens, the military, and Guardians alike, earning her a permanent place among the heroes of old. |

  | Now her weapon is in your weak, miserable, untrained hands.Use it in a way that would make her proud, and carry her legacy into the future with boldness and purpose. |

  | Then maybe you, too, can shoot like a girl. |

  “Huh?” I checked the munitions crate I’d grabbed next to it, but nothing in there matched. The beastly gun only had one round, and I’d just used it. “Seriously?”

  Aside from the now-used medkit, I’d acquired an Energy Booster Pack—whatever that was—utility gloves, and 5.56 ammo, which, with no weapon, was of no use to me. The kid didn’t have any AllCash on him, so I got nothing there, but that meant I still didn’t know if I could loot AllCash from other Players. Maybe it wasn’t even an option.

  I also had the black ballistic armored vest from the truck. It had decent stats and was better than nothing, so I equipped it and the gloves, boosting my armor rating enough that I might survive more than a single hit next time.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  For whatever reason, the kidult’s boots stayed in place, constantly steaming like from an old cartoon. I couldn’t take them, couldn’t equip them, couldn’t toss them into my inventory, or anything. It ticked me off, because I really would’ve loved some shoes right about now.

  But I’d also gone up to Level 2 and had stats to allocate. I selected the level-up icon in my WHIM, and my status menu popped up. I sighed, remembering the RPGs my parents had forced me to play.

  I had three stat points to invest and two skill points for specific Skill Trees. The attributes were Strength, Speed, Endurance, Agility, Negotiation, Intellect, and Luck. I put one stat point into Strength, another into Speed, and the last one into Agility.

  I already had more Intellect than anyone in here, and Negotiation was how I made millions—now billions, thanks to this deranged new world I’d created—but I hovered my hand over the Luck icon.

  | Luck: This stat has a minor effect on everything you do. Wanna try yours? |

  “Love that. Thanks for nothing,” I grumbled.

  For the first time thus far, my interface displayed a new option: the Skill Tree. I opened it and nearly had a seizure. There were endless character Skill Trees for the endless amalgamation of games in the AllVerse, including one specifically for my rickshaw.

  Without asking, Silas crawled back onto my shoulder and peered at the Skill Tree. “What are you gonna choose? I’d be chuffed if you picked something that made you better at not dying or getting injured. Or something to better your driving skill… The point is, just better yourself so I don’t have to do everything for you.”

  I blinked at him. “What are you doing on my shoulder?”

  “…sitting?”

  I opened my mouth to clarify, then realized it wasn’t worth the effort. We’d nearly reached his destination, and soon I could ditch this anthropomorphic cephalopod.

  Then he slapped me, and my 4% HP began to creep upward again.

  Upon opening the rickshaw Skill Tree, which was way larger than reasonable, I inspected the initial selections for my level. I’d need to use this thing at least for a little while to gain levels and XP, so I chose one that repaired the noticeable damage, made it more durable, and rendered it more aesthetically appealing.

  The rickshaw creaked and groaned as it remade itself accordingly, still sitting where I’d left it after nearly getting blown up, now upright. I’d have to go back and physically grab it to reequip it or pull it back into my inventory.

  The next one I chose for myself was a basic skill called Toughness, which made me more durable. That was the primary focus right now; I couldn’t afford to keep getting wrecked by every little thing.

  “Mmkay, let’s get back to it. Hopefully, I’ll find some ammo for this rifle.” I kept it equipped and slung over my shoulder to discourage plebs from attacking me.

  I headed back to my rickshaw, which, up close, looked much better, despite the hit it had just taken. The upgrade had cleaned it up, reinforced the wheels with metal brackets, repaired the seat and made it look less sketchy, and improved the canvas covering so it looked less like a repurposed troll’s loincloth.

  I still would’ve preferred my Lamborghini, but this was good enough for now.

  I gripped the rickshaw’s polished metal handles, but even though Silas had restored me to full health again, he remained on my shoulder. “Uh, you want to get on the rickshaw?”

  “Not particularly. Your shoulder is well-sculpted and quite comfortable.”

  “One of those statements is true,” I conceded. “Wait, then why’d I even need the rickshaw if you could just sit on my shoulder? Oh, for heaven’s sake, never mind. Let’s go.”

  With relatively little trouble throughout the rest of the war game area, we finally neared the downed Nautilus. As I’d suspected, it was a giant vessel shaped like its animal kingdom namesake. I’d seen it crash just after we all got stuck in here. Parts of it still smoldered, while water poured out of other areas.

  Not a single octo—Karjok—whatever—was in sight.

  “Hmm, they probably moved on,” Silas said. “This area is hardly safe.”

  As if on cue, a military truck careened into view, promptly spun out of control and crashed, then an explosion sounded in the distance.

  I just shook my head. Incels.

  “A few of us went for help in different directions,” Silas explained. “That’s where I met you.”

  “You were looking for help? You were just chilling on an awning at a taxi depot.”

  “I had to crawl all the way there, didn’t I? I’m entitled to a break, same as the next eight-legged bloke.”

  “Right. We’re here. Now pay me so I can complete the mission.” I needed to keep progressing and figure out what was happening. There had to be others in this world who knew how to get out or where to start looking.

  “Hold a moment, mate.” He hopped off my shoulder and surveyed the wreckage. “You know, for being made to land only in water, she held up pretty well, truth be told.”

  It had not held up well at all, but I wasn’t about to engage in yet another distracting conversation with this thing.

  I waved my hand in circles. “Pay me so the mission ends. We’re still in a warzone.”

  “Hold your seahorses. I need to see if I can get inside and reach the cockpit and comm hub.”

  Instead of resolving, my objective updated:

  | Objective: Explore the Nautilus with Silas |

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  break--Royal Road. They call us the Critical Hitters.

  Dungeon Crawler Carl Audio Immersion Tunnel for Soundbooth Theater, and he's the lead writer for the Dungeon Crawler Carl Role Playing Game.