Dreams are the lies we tell ourselves to make it through the waking world.

  Brom felt better in the morning. Not the fake brain-smoothed kind of better either, but that genuine relief that comes from a good night's sleep. He would appreciate the lack of nightmares at any rate, the System could keep doing what it was doing on that front. He lay there in bed, his arms behind his head, notification alerts blinking in the corner of his vision. TJ's health bar was still on his screen, the teenager stubbornly refusing to drop party, as if he were keeping watch. Brom hadn't even thought about it last night when he'd left.

  HP: 700/700

  The day had reset, and so had his body, all those minor hurts and pains smoothed away by the reality-rewriting magic of the System. Not a bruise or tender spot remained. Only the mental injuries, the memories of what he'd seen and felt. Even those were packed in wool and stored away, rendered harmless as though they'd happened a lifetime ago. Brom had to let it go, accept for now that no matter how much he hated it, he couldn't fight it. At this rate, his therapist was going to go out of business.

  He sat up slowly, dislodging the cats as he did so. Alice immediately stretched and took over the warm spot he left behind on the pillow. Her tail flipped neatly over her paws, her chin tucked in so that only the pink of her inner ear broke up the otherwise smooth, round white swirl of her body. Such a princess.

  [Cold Bay Press

  Local Hero Saves City Harbor!

  Who is Brom Jones? Yesterday, the thirty-six-year-old Cold Bay native stunned us all with a ferocious display of strength, bringing an end to the crisis in downtown Cold Bay.

  Dungeon Death Toll Rises!

  Mayor Sven Amundson says identification efforts 'will take months' as they request a list of all those lost in the Event Dungeon from higher authorities.]

  The news notifications exploded across his comm, both articles seeking his attention like eager dogs that needed to go outside. That tracked, yesterday's siren article had done the same thing. It seemed that the newspaper was somehow linked to everyone's comm, providing a daily news flash of the previous day's highlights.

  He fought himself out of the blankets, feeling a bit like Gulliver escaping the Lilliputians as he pulled his blankets out from under the cat-shaped weights pinning them down. Now that he was in motion, the clowder would follow sooner or later. He yawned, popping his jaw, and shuffled into the bathroom to stare at himself in the mirror. The man staring back seemed to sympathize with him, they'd seen some shit, too.

  Brom went through his notifications as he brushed his teeth, feeling a pang of guilt as he read TJ's messages. He had sort of stranded the kid at the harbor. Sure, he was safe in town, but he was also cut off, unless he wanted to take the two-hour walk along the highway to Brom's on his own. He made a note to talk to the kiddo later. There were a couple of polite comm requests from some very important people, reaching out to get his comments on his actions yesterday for the paper and for a PR ceremony. He wasn't sure what he felt about that, sending a polite stalling reply to both of them. He'd think about it, that was the honest truth.

  Finally, after dealing with all the simple messages, he looked at the one he was dreading from the System.

  Rewards:

  Congratulations, Player Brom Jones, on your impressive performance. You showcased what makes legendary classes legendary, and overall, the Viewers were quite taken with you. Increased rewards have been sent to you for completing the Hard Mode path of Into the Maw solo. Additional rewards have also been provided per Viewer request. Please make sure that you look them over carefully and also ensure that you select your unchosen class skill. We hope you continue to strive for this same level of excellence in the future.

  He was so shocked he almost swallowed his mouthwash. Was the System actually being polite? To him?! Fuck he really had overachieved, hadn't he? Aside from the XP that had carried him well into level seven from barely being level six, there was a hefty quantity of gold coins that went straight into his bank balance. There were several zeros. He didn't think he needed to worry about the bills for a little while.

  The items were something else, though.

  First was a belt of leather, wonderfully worked with the image of gripping beasts, in a style that was clearly fantasy-inspired. Just like with his ring, the moment he focused on it, the prompt popped up.

  [Would you like to equip the Girdle of Divine Strength?]

  "Oh shit." He dropped the can of shaving cream, the lather splattering in the sink as he stared at the prompt. "No, send to inventory. Send all rewards to inventory."

  Brom hadn't messed around with the Inventory yet. It was there, it had things in it, but he just hadn't had time yet. Sue him, it had been a busy couple days! He looked down at the ring on his finger, the Ring of Aquatic Combat. The System had acted like it was giving him a cheap trinket when it had dropped this ring on him, and yes, in the grand scheme of things, it did a whole lot of nothing most of the time. But it had been instrumental in both of his encounters so far. Without it, he likely would have gotten his ass handed to him a bit harder by that siren. He definitely wouldn't have been able to do what he'd done against Yacht Sothoth. So now begged the question, had the System known what was coming?

  Maybe it had. Maybe it had just dropped it in his hands like giving the baby the remote to play with and expecting it to find its own cartoons. Either way, it was a fact that Brom had walked away with something that had already been useful and would be in the future.

  Brom focused on shaving, an act he was bad at at the best of times. His hands tended to tremble, and his beard tended to be stubborn. It was too bad then that it tended to be very bushy around the jowls when he let it grow in, looking like he'd been electrocuted. It made him look like an anime villain, squaring off his head in an unpleasant way. Sure enough, he nicked himself twice as he scraped his stubble away. He noticed one of them, the other he found when he splashed the aftershave on.

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  He was sporting two bits of toilet paper on his neck as he got dressed, choosing items he didn't particularly care for from his closet just in case. At this rate, he was going to have to start thrifting ugly shirts, he wouldn't be able to keep up with his textile requirements otherwise. How many jeans would he have to sacrifice on the altar of the denim gods before he had a pair that lasted more than one day? He was also out of sneakers, both his pairs having been ruined, leaving him only with his heavy boots to get around in.

  Marble tried to kill him on the stairs again.

  He caught himself with the railing just as he was about to pitch forward, meeting the innocent-looking gaze of the grey feline. "We really have to stop meeting like this, it's going to be the death of me." Brom stooped down and scooped up the grey, soaking in the affection as the butterball squirmed around until he was comfortable. "Sir, I appreciate all your love and affection, but really, it could be expressed in safer ways for both you and me." What if he accidentally booted the cat? With his current stats, that would be a catastrophe.

  With the twenty pounds of grey fluff happily purring on his lap like an overjoyed medicine ball, Brom was finally settled in to look over the items he'd stuffed in the inventory. He figured he'd deal with them now so that if there were any surprises, he could use the routine of making breakfast to help his soul return to his body. Or maybe he just didn't want to face the mess he'd left in the kitchen last night. Being in a poor mental state had made him say fuck the dishes and leave it as a problem for future Brom.

  He was now future Brom.

  So he chose procrastination once more, although in his mind, he was simply practicing time management, putting it off once again while he took care of his inventory management. Really, he wasn't sure why he'd avoided the Inventory screen before now, but honestly, it had just been a case of out of sight, out of mind. There'd always been something more important. Now it unfolded before him in simple elegance, everything sorted into neat, contained pockets that brought up all the information with a thought.

  He could see his sections for equipment, it made sense they'd be limited. He doubted he could wear magic necklaces like a rapper wore chains without there being some consequences. Plus, it would be pretty silly to see someone trying to wear so many magic garments that they looked like the little brother from that one holiday movie, where he couldn't put his arms down. Brom had no doubts there would be cheeky bastards out there who'd try to.

  [Ring of Aquatic Combat: Equipped (Rare Equipment)]

  Okay, so the blue name did mean rare. He'd assumed so, but seeing it spelled out like that reassured him that it really was just like the games he'd played when he was younger. The dungeon looters where he'd broken pots and killed demons and been rewarded with random stats on a ring. Good times. Simpler times. Now he probably actually had to go into those dungeons, kill those demons, and break those pots manually. Somehow, the games failed to mention you'd be combing through entrails and potsherds to recover your loot.

  [Siren's Tears: 10 (Common Crafting Component)]

  [Siren's Scales: 5 (Uncommon Crafting Component)]

  [Siren's Blood: 1 (Rare Crafting Component)]

  Oh yeah. He had those. He'd completely forgotten. The different rarities listed next to each of those items lead him to believe that there were likely epic and heroic quality items as well, though those two probably didn't drop off of level 3 sirens. What crafting components could be used for was worth investigating more later, but not exactly his focus right now.

  "Maybe I should have made myself tea before I settled down to do this." Too late now, Marble didn't feel like he was going to move, and Brom was committed to this Inventory inspection. With a sigh, he turned his attention to the one thing he'd already identified. The inventory icon of the belt.

  [Girdle of Divine Strength: Unequipped (Heroic Equipment)]

  Yup, shiny gold name checked out. Heroic equipment. The kind of stuff he'd get mugged for in a dark alley. Well, maybe not. Brom was a visually intimidating target at this point. That mugger would have to be high on substances to consider making a life choice that poor. But Brom wasn't sure how rare gold named equipment was yet, and he wasn't about to admit he had any.

  "Doubles wearer's strength." Okay, what exactly did that mean? Did it double his body stat or was it more esoteric, like he'd have been able to yank Yacht Sothoth's core twice as fast as he had? More things to figure out later.

  [Travellers' Coat of Comfort: Unequipped (Uncommon Equipment)]

  The coat was a stylish enough looking pea coat per its icon. "Wearer ignores harmful weather effects." So he wouldn't be uncomfortable wandering in a blizzard? Or choking in a volcanic ash cloud? He knew his barbarian body wouldn't allow him to suffer the ill effects of those situations, but being able to not to be miserable during them as well? This was a big win. "I do love me some creature comforts."

  He physically recoiled at the last item, though. He hadn't even finished reading its description when it blinked in the inventory, appearing in a brand new slot next to his equipped items list. He felt the weight of it in real life, glancing down at his left wrist. It looked innocent, a brass ship's whistle on a wrist chain with a cute little shark motif. It was, unfortunately, an unholy terror in disguise.

  [Yacht Sothoth's Whistle: Soul-bound Unique (Legendary Accessory)]

  "Blow to summon the elder entity Yacht Sothoth- oh hell no."