by Iliev, Neven
Another potential problem was that Claws seemed to be a bit overzealous in her binge-feeding, which could’ve resulted in her driving out all of the creatures in Ambrosia’s canopy. This was worrisome, as it could be seen as permanently damaging the tiny ecosystem that lived up there, putting Boxxy at risk of contracting Taboo by breaking Zephyra’s divine law. Thankfully, there were eleven more ancient hylt trees in Azurvale, and the ‘ganger’ was fairly certain none their dryads would complain about some unsolicited pest control.
So, all things considered, the demon doing all the actual work was incredibly satisfied by her new routine. She got to watch Boxxy spin a web of lies and deceit from afar during the day and ate outrageous amounts of varied and delicious foods at night. She even had a way to appeal to the monster she admired by making herself ‘shiny,’ as Xera put it. Boxxy even allowed her to use her regular thread to build a nest for herself within Ambrosia’s uppermost branches, if she really wanted to.
And did she ever want to.
Drea’s new ‘home’ rapidly grew large enough to be considered a mansion, although she didn’t make it with practicality in mind. She just wanted to have a place she could call her own, somewhere she could laze about and peacefully digest her meal while producing her thread. It really was not her intention to capture and ensnare wandering prey. Granted, that did end up happening anyway, though Drea wasn’t about to complain about the free food. Ambrosia was perfectly fine with it too, as the stalker’s webs did not inconvenience her in the slightest. In fact, some small part of her was quite pleased with her new oversized ‘hair ornament,’ though that might have been the dungeon core talking.
All things said and done, the newest addition to Boxxy’s little house of monsters fit in surprisingly well. She diligently performed her duties and seemed to get along with both Snack and Ambrosia. In fact, it sometimes found the three of them chatting about something or other during idle periods, although the stalker would immediately vacate the area when she realized Boxxy was nearby.
Even Fizzy had taken an odd liking to the spider girl, despite the two never making eye contact or even speaking. The exotic silk Drea produced seemed to ignite the spark of inspiration within the golem Artificer, and she set out to design and build a machine that could weave it into a fabric all on its own. This was an idea that Boxxy found very tasty, as selling ready-made cloth rather than spools of thread would be easier and more profitable. It therefore ordered the stalker to assist Fizzy with any and all requests she might have in that regard.
That particular conversation had taken place yesterday, and it was now the night of the fifth day after the contract with Claws had been made. Boxxy had traded places with Xera, putting her on Rowana-sitting duty while it filled up on the delicious ‘gifts’ left behind by the stalker. While not quite as tasty as elves or humans, the huge pile of prime roc meat dripping with blood made for a very satisfying meal. If things carried on this way, then it wouldn’t even need to enact that ‘fast food’ plan it had come up with. To say things were working out better than expected would be a huge understatement.
That’s when the shapeshifter had a sudden, worrying thought.
Actually, haven’t things been going too well lately?
There was that incident with the Taboo Skill, as well as the slight turbulence surrounding Minic’s sudden appearance, but both of those incidents were resolved quickly and to a highly satisfying degree. Keira had already established herself as a quirky and lovable rookie, and had both a lover and a slowly growing circle of close friends. So, on the whole, everything was turning up in Boxxy’s favor. This, if past experiences were any indication, meant that something was about to go very wrong, and very soon.
“Oh, no you don’t!”
“Gaaah!”
Fizzy’s voice rang out from the side, almost as if on cue, followed immediately by an angry shout from Kora. Its dinner thoroughly interrupted, the spider-legged chest stood up and went over to see what all the fuss was about. It saw the golem standing firmly between Claws and Arms. The Paladin was in a combat stance, gripping onto her signature wrench with both hands and sporting an absolutely livid expression on her shiny face. The yellow-green light emanating from her weapon as well as the similarly glowing halo above her head signified she had activated her Divine Wrath Skill. Boxxy didn’t usually care for flashy abilities like that, but it had to admit, it was a big fan of the way the Skill made its prized shiny look even more dazzling than usual. The ability also did some other things of lesser importance, like massively boosting her damage and healing output, but the shiny stuff was what Boxxy really cared about.
The fiend, on the other hand, was curled up on the floor with her face on the wooden ground and her ass in the air. She seemed to be in a huge deal of pain, judging from her groans and how she used all four of her arms to clutch at her lower body. It was quite obvious Fizzy had just hit her with all her might, and the reason for that seemed to be the third person on the scene.
Claws was crouching down on the ground, doing her absolute best to hide behind the much smaller Paladin. Even the six scythes attached to her back were wrapped around her front, as if to shield her from something. She looked like she had been in the process of producing lavender-colored silken strands when she had rudely interrupted.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Fizzy shouted.
“Ghhhrrrrgh! You tiny bitch,” the doubled-over fiend growled. “If it wasn’t for the Boss’s orders, I’d turn you into scrap.”
“Try me, meatbag!” the golem taunted. “I’m different from how I was back in that forest! I’ll shove this wrench so far up your ass it’ll pop out of your mouth!”
Boxxy decided it was time to intervene, otherwise it wouldn’t be able to enjoy its midnight meal in peace.
“Okay, what’s going on here?”
All three of its servants turned to stare at the creature that brought them together in the first place.
“Claws, you stay right there,” it ordered, preventing the stalker from running off like she usually did.
“Grr! Ain’t nothing, boss,” Arms insisted. “I was just doing my thing when this psycho-”
“Your thing is the fucking problem here, bitchnugget!” Fizzy yelled over her.
“Be quiet!” commanded Boxxy. “Nobody speak unless spoken to!”
It really didn’t want or need any of this drama. It just wanted to get to the bottom of the conflict, put an end to it, then get back to its meal. The most efficient way of handling it was to take it one step at a time.
“Arms, why are you on the ground?”
“That little cunt just hit me in the dick!”
It would seem even Kora, who could handle the pain of losing a limb or having a violent box chew on her head like it was nothing, was not exempt from attacks to the groin. That was why her member was normally hidden inside her body in the first place. In other words, if that part had been attacked, then it must have been ‘out’ for some reason.
“Why did you hit her in the dick?” the shapeshifter turned to Fizzy.
“Well,” the golem collected herself, “I asked the new girl to show me how she normally handled and produced that silk of hers, since I needed a reference for my machine. And then this moron came striding in and interrupted the demonstration with her raging boner!”
Boxxy glanced over at Claws who nodded so vigorously, it almost seemed like her head was about to fall off. Her master then rapidly pieced together what had transpired.
Claws could produce two types of spider thread—the white, temporary one she used in combat and the lavender, permanent one necessary to weave Demon Silk. The former was made entirely through solidified mana and shot out of her hands at will. The latter demanded nutrients and was much closer to the thread of an actual spider. Both were produced by different spinnerets inside her body, which on a regular spider would be located inside their bulbous abdomen, with the silk coming out of a small opening at the end of it.
> Claws lacked such a body part, mostly due to her subspecies as a hornet stalker. While there were other types of stalker that were arachnids with a few demonic features, her variant was a humanoid one with arachnid features. This meant that, in order to produce her sticky threads, her spinnerets had to be in places that made sense for her body type. The small ones that conjured her temporary white webbing were, unsurprisingly, in her hands, while the other, more robust type of thread was produced by the larger set of spinnerets in her lower abdomen, near the stomach.
This meant that, much to Drea’s embarrassment, the orifice that secreted the second type of spider silk was located firmly between her butt cheeks, right where an anus would normally be. And Arms, being the horny idiot that she was, happened upon the stalker in the middle of her ‘demonstration,’ and, in true fiend fashion, tried to stick her dick in it. This forced Fizzy to lash out at the big red moron by aiming for the very obvious weak point. This ‘argument’ had been the commotion that had caught Boxxy’s attention.
All of this led up to the shapeshifter witnessing the most ridiculous argument it had ever seen.
“That’s my silk hole, meatbag!”
“Nuh-uh! That ass is mine! Tell her, boss!”
“My butt is nobody’s but my ooooown! Tktktktkt!”
Okay, maybe not the most ridiculous, but top five for sure.
Part Four
Arms was instantly banned from, as she put it, ‘sticking it up the spider-pooper,’ since it would interfere with silk production for no good reason. Fizzy questioned why she even bothered with Drea, considering she had Xera on hand to help with her urges. The fiend’s reply made the golem feel even more disgusted at the two-and-a-half-meter-tall meatbag than ever before.
“It’s not as fun if they don’t fight back.”
Kora wanted to force herself on an unwilling partner, and playing around with the succubus didn’t really count.
“I don’t care, keep it in your pants,” was her Master’s response.
Boxxy had already given her much more freedom than any bound familiar could hope for, so she had no right to complain.
“C’mon, boss! Just this once!”
That didn’t stop her from bitching about it anyway. Demons were normally fickle, selfish, ungrateful creatures, so this sort of behavior was expected. Boxxy didn’t particularly mind her attitude, because ‘attitude’ was all she had.
“No,” it repeated. “Now, shut up about it unless you want to spend the next three days hitting yourself in the groin.”
This firm stance on the matter made Drea incredibly relieved. She had seen the gut-displacing size of Kora’s member several times, and was certain she wanted no part of that. In fact, that succubus was most likely the only demon in existence that did. With the matter settled, the shapeshifter let out a quiet sigh. It honestly disliked dealing with this sort of stuff. Having to put on the mask called Keira every day was already mentally exhausting, and there were only so many nights it could pretend to sleep next to Rowana. Piling up stress simply made it harder to focus on actually ‘meditating.’ That was why it had spent more and more time in the dungeon, where it could freely indulge in its hobbies.
Speaking of which, that tasty pile of roc meat was still waiting for it. Boxxy immediately put the thoughts of pointless drama out of its mind and focused entirely on the feast. While it still longed for man-flesh, these birds still made for an excellent substitute. Especially since it had decided to cut down on its hunting of the homeless. While it wasn’t quite sure how close it was to being saddled with the Slayer of Elvenkind Perk, it wanted to avoid its negative effects, if at all possible. Those wouldn’t be nearly as pronounced as the higher-ranked Butcher of Humanity, but it still wanted to avoid that can of worms for as long as feasibly possible.
In short, the stalker’s gift of fresh monster meat was very much appreciated. Therefore, it sent Claws several words of telepathic praise such as, ‘Thanks for the meal’ and ‘Keep up the good work,’ to which she eagerly replied with a ‘It was my pleasure!’ That girl, she seemed to be fine with communicating over the thought-link, but speaking face-to-face was more or less impossible for her. That quirk wasn’t much of an issue, since her duties involved being neither seen nor heard.
Claws and Fizzy eventually got back to planning that silk-weaving prototype, while Kora went off to vent her frustrations on anything that wriggled and crawled. As for Boxxy, it was about to swap places with Snack to resume its ‘pretending to sleep, but not really’ act, when it noticed something strange. It was about the odd-colored wall at one end of the wooden platform in the heart of the dungeon. This area of the cavern wasn’t covered in bark-like growths, and Boxxy had agreed not to tamper with it at Ambrosia’s request. This bare, beige-colored timber was the central and most vital part of the hylt tree—the heartwood.
Boxxy hadn’t really taken a close look at it lately, so it was quite surprised to find that what had been a plain, smooth wall several days ago had been covered in some form of writing. What were undoubtedly letters had been delicately and expertly carved into the otherwise smooth surface, but Boxxy didn’t recognize the script. This wasn’t all that surprising considering the only language it spoke fluently was Atican, the one commonly used across the continent of Atica. It had also looked up ancient elven writing in the library out of curiosity, and had noted that it shared certain immediate similarities with Atican.
This weird script was completely different, however. The letters looked closer to the magical runes used by Enchanters, but those sigils did not convey information. They were geometric shapes and patterns that helped imbue magic into objects. This carved script looked so completely outside Boxxy’s comprehension, it was as if it was looking at a new color for the first time. There was quite a lot of it too, as the writing extended dozens of meters in every direction.
The strangest thing about this situation was that they appeared to have been carved by hand. Not only were such fine details impossible to do with Terrain Sculpting, but there were fresh wood shavings scattered around the place. It then noticed a thick, tentacle-like vine hanging loosely off to the side. It was a type of growth the dryad could create and manipulate at will, so the fact that it was gripping onto a shiny metal knife made it quite clear who was responsible for this literal wall of text. Meaning Boxxy knew full well who to ask regarding this odd phenomenon.
“Ambrosia!” it bellowed, and the dryad’s plump figure rose from the floor next to it.
“What is it, milord?” she asked sweetly.
“What’s this all about?” it waved a tongue-tentacle at the strange letters.
“Those art the records of milord’s teaching and instructions.”
“Ah. I see.”
Once the monster thought about it, it recalled that the dryad had mentioned something along the lines of ‘I shall engrave thy words unto mine heartwood’ at one point, hadn’t she? It would appear that hadn’t been some roundabout way of saying she’d keep Boxxy’s words in mind, but had been quite literal about it. This was a problem, as the shapeshifter wasn’t comfortable with leaving records of its exploits behind. Even if it lived here for the moment, it imagined it would eventually leave the tree and the dungeon behind, so this carved diary could one day come back to bite it in the bottom.
“But why write it all down? And why here?”
“Because, by doing this I shalt never forget milord’s words of wisdom,” Ambrosia claimed.
“Is it really that hard for you to remember things?”
“’Tis shameful to admit, but the eons hath made mine memory faulty. What thou considers the event of a lifetime is but a fleeting moment from mine perspective.”
Her words made Boxxy thoroughly aware of just how ancient the dryad was. Of course, it already knew that, but it was easy to forget her age considering her relatively youthful appearance. The ‘ganger’ couldn’t exactly sympathize with her, but it understood her problem. Having accumulated memories for literal
millennia would probably make anyone have trouble recollecting specific things. If this wall of text was necessary for her to carry out her duties, then it would much rather keep it around.
That did leave one question though, one that Boxxy pondered about for a long time before it finally asked.
“What about the language itself?”
“’Tis an ancient script, milord. One that I believe is much older than even myself.”
“I would assume so, but where does it come from?”
“I cannot say for certain.”
“But you know this language, right? Surely you’d remember how you learned it or who taught it to you.”
Even if her memory wasn’t the greatest, surely something as significant as that would leave at least some kind of lasting impression.
“I truly cannot say, milord,” she shook her head. “I know ‘tis strange, but I feel as though I hath always known these letters.”
“Well, that’s helpful,” it sarcastically remarked. “At least there’s a good chance nobody else knows this script, right?”
“Indeed. It hath most likely been forgotten by all but me and mine fellow sisters.”
“Interesting. Then could you perhaps teach me the language later?”
When Ambrosia heard that, she beamed so wide that it made her look several millennia younger.
“It would be mine utmost pleasure, milord!” she agreed enthusiastically.
“Alright, I’ll look forward to it.”
Boxxy went on its way, leaving the dryad to enjoy her moment of excitement. Her enthusiasm was probably a good sign, as the shapeshifter genuinely intended to master that script. It didn’t wish to do so because of any academic interest, of course. While the ex-mimic was a curious creature, that did not mean it was fond of studying… unless it considered the subject to be tasty, shiny, or otherwise necessary. And this language had the potential to be very shiny indeed, because upon closer inspection, Boxxy managed to recognize several of the symbols on that wall.
