Hands on her hips, Abigail frowned at the splayed skeleton of the gashadokuro. Roman and Noah stood beside her in the parking lot. Roman wasn’t sure why the lawyer’s presence was required in this arrangement, but as long as he didn’t interfere, there was no reason to antagonize him. The temptation to spout off was there, of course, but Roman fancied he was learning a bit of diplomacy.
He hadn’t even realized he was going to ask Abigail about the possibility of making a golem as a new body for Bella until the words tumbled out of his mouth. The idea of resurrecting another human seemed beyond the realm of possibility, despite all the insanity he had been exposed to in the Chaos Playground. Now that it was actually being considered, he wondered if he had opened Pandora’s box.
“I could build a golem out of these materials,” said Abigail, holding up a finger. “Theoretically. Especially since that ghoul was willing to give up as much of this skeleton as necessary, it gives me a lot to work with.”
Indeed, Mixie had proven suspiciously charitable after hearing about the idea of implanting Bella’s soul into a weapon of mass destruction. John had looked sick over the idea until he began to think about it more and more; then, he had turned silent and contemplative. Both of them had excused themselves from the brief excursion outside, avoiding the hassle of moving back and forth across the barrier.
“You can do it?” said Roman.
“Theoretically,” said Abigail. “It would take more time and energy than I have right now. And that’s to make a mindless golem out of the materials, not the part about adding a dead consciousness and somehow making it compatible. I’m not even high level enough to reshape whatever the hell these bones are, unless you want the whole thing to become animated.”
Roman considered the gigantic, headless skeleton, and the wisdom of turning it into a godless killing machine. He further considered the implication of shoving the unconsenting consciousness of a teenage girl he had murdered into it.
“Hmm,” he said.
“I don’t know much about the subject,” said Noah, “but I imagine if you’re going to put someone into a new body, you want it to be as close to their former one as possible. May want to give it a head, too.”
Roman had to admit that all sounded reasonable. “We’ll use part of it so that Mixie can upgrade the truck. That’ll give a big advantage in the dungeon in the short-term. Use what you have to make a human-sized golem. I’d guess she was around five-six, scrawny. Maybe a hundred and twenty pounds.”
“I mean, I can try,” said Abigail. “Like I said, I have no way to shape the material right now. That’ll improve as I level up. I’ll also get a level ten ability and class upgrade hopefully soon enough, though I doubt such early upgrades will let me engage in necromancy or whatever this is. And that’s assuming I’d be willing to shape my entire path in order to fulfill this desire of yours.”
Roman shrugged. “You’d be surprised what the Chaos Playground is willing to give out under the right circumstances.”
He didn’t expound on that, but his innate ability had been strong enough to transform the gashadokuro’s skeleton, and [ Flash Step ] was a short-range, instantaneous teleportation. Both seemed like incredible abilities, available to him from the beginning.
“It’s a compelling idea,” said Noah, absently flicking his lighter. “If you reach a point where you can make golems that are artificial human bodies, identical to the real thing, and you can transfer consciousness into them? That’s a type of quasi-immortality. Beyond anything else, survival is the ultimate priority. Live long enough, and you have options.”
“Ethics aside,” said Abigail. “You’re underestimating how complex an actual human body is. I can’t just slap together flesh and blood and it’s the same thing as an organic, natural body with a billion biochemical processes firing at all times.”
“You’re thinking about this like it’s still the old world. Expand your mind, Abby.”
Abigail stared at him for a while, then nodded tersely. “Anyways, we still have to find a way to shape the bones. It’s not going to be a project we can get done easily. Let's get back to the others.”
Roman shrugged and grabbed the gashadokuro by one of its ankle bones. He had already discovered how impossible it was to lug the dead weight of the skeleton around in a more respectable fashion. Dragging the rattling gashadokuro along with one hand, he returned to the grocery store. He hoped Mixie hadn’t started any serious fights in the couple minutes they’d been gone. The lack of explosions or screaming in the distance helped soothe his anxiety a bit.
Before following him in, Abigail and Noah shared a glance at the casual display of strength, likely re-evaluating their mental estimations of his attributes.
Roman hauled the skeleton back to where the others were, wincing at the squealing sound the bones made as they dragged along the tiles. He wasn't too surprised to see they had gathered around Mixie. Leo and Scott looked enraged, the others merely confused or disturbed.
“Alright,” said Roman. “What happened here?”
“We have a problem?” Noah added.
“Yeah,” said Scott. “I was loading up some supplies for the dungeon. Lo and behold, I went to pick up a bag of apples, and received a system notification saying that it would cost an organic fragment.”
Roman stared at Mixie. The ghoul noticed his attention and his diamond eyes shifted side to side. He had learned Mixie’s mannerisms enough to know that was about as obvious a sign of guilt as he could expect outside of a proud, outright confession.
“As I was explaining,” said Mixie, “this sort of phenomenon is not unheard of. It is likely that the dungeon has grown powerful enough that it has laid claim to the store itself, integrating it into the system. Now the territory is no longer yours, you all are merely renting it.”
Leo gripped his spear in both hands, face red. At least he wasn’t stupid enough to hold it threateningly. “And as I was explaining, it’s a real coincidence that this happened shortly after you two arrived. Aren’t the Keepers related to Greed or something? Isn’t that what you guys said?” He tilted his chin in Noah and Abigail’s direction.
Unfortunately, the two assholes were almost certainly correct in their assessment.
Noah clapped his hands for attention. His voice was calm and soothing. “Okay, then, how about I ask our new friend? Be honest, please. Did you cause this? Are you somehow charging us prices for the inventory of our own headquarters?”
Mixie’s cheek twitched. “No.”
Noah clapped his hands. “There you have it then. Our friend is innocent.”
“But--” said Scott.
“Are you two questioning my judgment?” Noah tilted his head to the side, his face unnaturally relaxed. They stared at the ground and shook their heads. “Good. Now, let’s get the final preparations done. We have ten minutes. Chop chop.”
After the strange encounter, Roman dragged the gashadokuro the rest of the way to the pick-up. Mixie joined him, and John appeared as well. Roman gave them a quick run-down of the situation and avoided bringing up the topic of Mixie charging the other Party. The ghoul’s obvious disdain toward humans made him think they were stupider than they were. His explanation had been possible, but this group wasn’t naive.
After Roman explained how Abigail wasn't able to shape the bones, Mixie laughed. “The solution is simple enough. There is no need to shape anything. My ability allows me to infuse the skeleton into the truck directly. All I have to do is leave behind a Bella-shaped arrangement. Of course, she was too big to carve her likeness out of any singular bone, so I will have to leave her body in chunks. I imagine we can discover some method of combining them into one.”
That sounded strangely morbid to Roman’s ears, though the entire topic seemed quite taboo. Mixie’s solution did make perfect sense, and started the crucial first step of accomplishing the task. Even if they didn’t resurrect Bella, having an indestructible automaton seemed like a useful tool. And, conveniently, if the two Parties turned against one another, his [ Chaos Touch ] should be able to neutralize the bone.
The process of Mixie upgrading the truck was fascinating. It only took a few minutes. Roman watched, transfixed, as most of the skeleton vanished into white motes that settled on the vehicle like falling snow.
As the pickup truck absorbed the particles, it began to transform. Its frame changed from old steel to gleaming ivory. The entire thing elongated to half-again its former size, and curved walls grew around the bed, turning it into an entrenched position lined with slots that could be easily opened and closed. Wicked bone scythes protruded from the front of the vehicle like insect mandibles--Mixie assured them that he could use them to clear the truck’s immediate path in rather grisly fashion.
Once the transformation was complete, the remnants of the gashadokuro lay at their feet. It made a disturbing sight, a dozen separate chunks of perfectly-formed Bella scattered about like a destroyed marble statue. Even the individual strands of her hair had been carved, frozen in a timeless moment.
Either Mixie was secretly an artist, or his mind worked on a level beyond Roman’s. Perhaps Mixie wasn't altogether wrong to consider himself Roman’s intellectual superior, though the overt condescension behind it was grating. No one liked a braggart.
“Alright,” Roman admitted. “The new truck is pretty badass.”
John nodded in begrudging admiration. “I was leaning more toward weapons made out of it, but as impressive as the gashadokuro is, it was still a relatively low-level monster. You’re probably better off continuing with more of a pugilist style anyways. An indestructible club is useful but doesn’t actually add that much for you.”
The bed of the truck had transformed into more like the back of an armored transport vehicle. A door now opened to the back, one that responded to his touch with a small shock before popping open. Rows had been carved into the spacious interior for people to sit. It was all rather impressive work.
He spent the next minute loading the chunks of Bella-golem into the back. The other Party wandered over, apparently mollified by their two leaders. Scott and Leo still looked like they were sulking, but they couldn’t keep the interest out of their expressions after seeing the upgraded vehicle.
Mixie grunted laughter into his hand, obviously rather impressed with himself as the others commented on his work. Abigail called that time was ticking for them to enter the dungeon, unable to suppress a quaver of uncertain excitement from her tone.
Mixie and Roman sat down in the front of the truck while the others piled into the back. They quickly loaded all their supplies and then sat as far as possible from the eerie collection of Bella piled in one of the corners.
The cabin of the truck had undergone its own renovations. Compared to before, it was the height of opulence. Gleaming ivory everywhere and somehow the ratty cloth seated had transformed into a dark, supple leather. Rows of unlabeled buttons and levers lined the console, tantalizingly mysterious. The steering wheel was the strangest part, an oversized saucer that took Roman a moment to realize was supposed to resemble a coin. Mixie’s own bust had been engraved into the center, chin lifted and shoulders squared in a regal pose.
Despite the absurd luxury of the design, Mixie had actually accounted for John. The guide could have probably floated above them in a crammed space if he had to, or otherwise just not materialize. Instead, there was a small seat in the back like it had been built for a child. John looked ridiculous sitting there, but at least it was something.
Mixie drove up to the dungeon entrance, stopping just a hair short of shoving open the double doors. It looked like the vehicle would be able to squeeze in with less than an inch on either side.
Roman reached behind him and opened a slot that connected the cabin to the back. “Everyone ready?”
The other Party responded with affirmations of mixed enthusiasm.
“Let’s fuck this dungeon up, then.”
