CWD: OE ~ Twenty-Nine

Welcome to the Pantry, and to Active Combat! You’ll have to tell your people the rules after this session of Active Combat, if you survive it. No Store. No Regens.

No eating!

Happily for Nacho and his team, they had the benefit of having just eaten, and he’d put all of his Stat bonuses into Fitness. The cook raised his skillet shield just as Arriod’s ghostly blade hurtled across the cavern, only to ram into his shield and rend his flesh behind the protection without the blade even touching him. The cook screamed as blood fountained from his body, splashing against the inside of his armor, only to rebound and coat him with the strangely hot fluid.

Health remaining: 32/156!

Just like that, Nacho was down to a measly thirty-two Health. Without his boosts and preparation, that would’ve been a killing blow. He’d taken a massive strike from Arriod, and the CruxTerran was halfway across the room. The guy had thrown a copy of his sword, powered by some insane Skill. Dealing one hundred and twenty-four damage with one blow wasn’t… natural.

Even as he forced himself out of shock, Nacho’s mind registered and cataloged the area. The scale of the space made his mind spin as much as the pain: everyone on the floor was about an inch tall, their battleground hidden beneath vast shelves that rose up as far as the eye could see. They were in a Pantry for planet-sized beings!

The Pantry’s shelves were full of towering cans of soup, packages of macaroni and cheese, and various building-sized bags of chips. Nacho idly considered that it would be kind of fun to find out how long it would take to eat a Dorito the size of a king-sized bed. Too bad if they ate anything in the Starvation Dungeon, they would lose everything. Not only would Arriod win the dungeon, but he’d also doom the Earth’s Starter World by doubling its Putrid Mana.

That thought galvanized him to regain his faculties: anything even in the vicinity of Tier four would kill them all.

In the distance, two mountain-sized doors—easily larger than Mount Everest—loomed on either side of the Pantry. There was no way they could open the massive panels using the doorknobs, but perhaps they could slip underneath them.

One door was clearly designated for the Earthlings—a poster had been plastered on the front, depicting a cartoonish character with very round pupils throwing a peace sign and eating a taco. The other door displayed a poster of a CruxTerran saluting and eating an unrecognizable goop that must have been their version of tacos.

Nacho felt the uniquely disconcerting sensation of his skin crawling back together and some of his blood being slurped back into his veins as a Reuben hug suffused him. Just like that, he was back up to one hundred and twenty-seven Health and ready for battle.

Perfect timing, as a balding CruxTerran with light blue eyes appeared out of thin air right next to Nacho. The CruxTerran swung out and lashed Nacho with a crackling red energy whip, sending the cook to the ground writhing in pain as the Mana coursed through his body.

Health remaining: 82/156!

Before baldie could vanish again—either teleporting or moving into stealth—Jennifer hurled her stirring spoon at him. The guy let out a yelp and vanished as the spoon clattered to the floor. An arrow exploded into another CruxTerran with gray rock skin as armor. A cluster of tentacles erupted out of his body—a whole mess of tentacles.

Before he could run forward with his wiggling limbs, the unknown combatant was stopped by another of Taye’s exploding arrows. Other CruxTerrans engaged Nacho’s people, and both sides were letting their powers fly. That wasn’t a good thing—not when they still had to get through the entire Starvation Dungeon without eating.

Arriod strode forward with numerous copies of his katana churning in the air around him. Nacho realized irritably that to get to the man, someone would have to brave his blender curtain.

That wasn’t a problem for Brie. She threw her Defensive Whirl in front of her and raced forward, ready to introduce Arriod to Mr. Lacrosse Stick.

“Dinner Party!” Nacho bellowed in fury as he struggled to his feet. “Don’t use any more of your Skills! Trust me!”

The blond Berserker heard him and understood that a strange mechanic must be at work, so she didn’t bring her full Combat Dash heat when she slammed her stick into Arriod’s chest. His ribs didn’t snap like sticks, indicating that he must have found some kind of magical armor. Instead, he simply staggered back, though he was still clearly annoyed and in pain.

“Mind Players,” Nacho called to his troops. “Hit them with all you’ve got! Body Players, save your Skills! Don’t use Hunger Points!”

They would need every last one of them. He’d have to explain everything later.

Kristie inhaled sharply, then launched her Death Blossom behind the CruxTerran soldiers. An explosion of pink energy tore holes through a couple of Arriod’s soldiers, dropping them before they even realized they’d been converted into charred husks. Hazel hurled purple grenades one after another, striking down another soldier with the magical debris.

Brie was forced back—if she didn’t use her Defensive Whirl, Arriod and his active Skills would chop her to bits. Nacho couldn’t understand why Arriod was using his Skills. Did he not understand how the Starvation Debuff worked? Or… did he know something the cook didn’t?

Nacho pulled Jennifer back from the fight, noting that she’d recovered her stirring spoon. “We have to get through that door. We might be able to take out Arriod and his strike team, but then we won’t survive the Starvation Dungeon. Everyone! Pull back! What part of ‘run’ was unclear?”

A sudden wall of purple light speared across the floor of the Pantry, cleanly separating the Earthlings from the CruxTerrans. Darker purple spikes jutted out across the strange wall, and one of the CruxTerran soldiers came too close; the spike telescoped out and impaled him through the throat.

That purple light looked familiar. Nacho wasn’t sure if Hazel was responsible, but either way, they had to be careful. Arriod laughed callously as The Dinner Party regrouped. “Nacho, the boy leader! I’d thought you’d be older, but you’re just out of schooling, yes?”

“Graduated college once upon a time, but not in this life,” Nacho called back, hoping the conversation would buy his people enough time to find where they needed to go. “Didn’t seem to be a problem when I built the Chips Guild. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you used at least two of your Skills. You hit me with something bad, and you also have your shower curtain of death. You’re going to get mighty hungry, Arriod… and there won’t be anyone around to eat. You know… except your own soldiers.”

Arriod sheathed his sword as the Blade Curtain continued to storm around him. He muttered something strange, and a cut on his face healed over. Was he a Paladin?

A strangely familiar *crinkling* sound seemed to completely fill the air, to the point that it was impossible for anyone to hear their own voice. Nacho searched for the source of the sound, only to spot one of the mountainous Cool Ranch Doritos chips bags above falling onto its side. It was open, so bed-sized triangles began falling all around them, bouncing off the ground with enough force to cause miniature localized earthquakes.

Reuben pushed one of their guild members to the side just as a Dorito hit the ground, shattering and spraying everyone with bits of delicious-smelling debris. Another chip landed squarely on one of the Five Sword Guys, slicing through his body like an oversized guillotine. He didn’t make it. Items in his Storage Slots appeared around his body. Nacho then realized they’d lost two more of the Five Sword Guys to the tentacle guy and the teleporter.

“UltraSoldiers! Retreat!” Arriod’s voice was nearly inaudible, but no one had really needed any instruction. Both sides were already sprinting for the door. The air smelled like processed cheese, and a growing fog of Doritos flavoring swirled around them.

“I have to admit,” Arriod’s words reached Nacho, even though the man himself was running away, just like the cook was, “I am impressed. I hit you square with my Slice Sing, along with another of my Skills, and you’re still… alive. Not one player in a thousand could’ve taken that much damage.”

“Don’t worry your pretty lil’ head over me. I’m one in a million.” Nacho paused, utterly unsure if his opponent could even hear him. “You know we’re just playing the Patron’s game, right? Do you like being a puppet? What say we join forces?”

Arriod was silent for a long moment—just long enough that Nacho was certain that the other man hadn’t heard him—then a whispery voice touched his ears. “Only one world can win this game. I don’t like being a puppet. But.”

Nacho looked over his shoulder, whatever was left of the message apparently unable to cross the distance between them. Arriod saluted him sadly, but firmly.

In reply, Nacho threw up a peace sign.

Arriod merely shrugged and continued his run toward his people that were already on their backs, pushing themselves underneath the crack in the door. Nacho hardly noticed, because he was too busy running full tilt until he reached the corresponding door. With barely a thought, he dropped onto his back and slid smoothly under the door, his skillet acting almost like a sled.

By the time he stood, Brie was on one knee, breathing hard, as were most of Nacho’s people. The ragged team was gasping, chattering, and audibly wondering how they had all been pulled from the CruxTerran UnderFun and into the Pantry.

Reuben was still trying to catch his breath, but there was one major difference between him and everyone else: his absolute addiction to junk food. In one hand was an arm-length shard of chip, and he was already rearing back to chomp into it.

Nacho’s knife *pinged* off the Healer’s sausage clip, shattering the chip and scattering the majority of it as Reuben’s teeth *clicked* together. The cook arrived just after the knife, grabbing the hand still holding the chip and shaking his friend until it was all on the ground. “Everyone! We can’t eat. If we eat, we lose. Not this game, but Earth.”

“Wait… we lose the planet if we eat these?” Reuben eyed the massive Dorito hunk with hurt eyes. “But Nacho… huge Doritos. When will I ever get this chance again? Can I… can I at least lick the air?”

“Don’t risk every remaining human life to lick the air, please. Someday, I’ll find a giant food cookbook and recreate this scenario just for you.” Nacho looked at the remnants of his crew and found his heart in his throat. The two surviving Sword Guys stood shaking their heads and sighing mournfully. Both had taken their red helmets off, allowing Nacho to remember their names. Steve, on the left, had a red shield and sword. Stephen, even further to the left, supported a two-handed claymore, just like Gustav back with the Ghost Pepper Brigade.

Nacho was about to gather his people around him, but the System interrupted his leadership moment.

Congratulations, you survived your first Active Combat session in the Starvation Dungeon! You still have Store access and your Regens. Perhaps you’d like to buy a treat to celebrate? All Epic food, for all Tiers, is free!

Good luck–may your future be delicious!

“What is going on?” Brie called out for answers, and Nacho knew that he wouldn’t be able to give her a satisfactory response. “One minute, we’re packing up, and the next, we’re in the middle of Active Combat? Were we shrunk? Is this place just massive?”

“It sure seems like it.” Nacho cast his eyes skyward, grasping for something, anything, to offer them. He stood with his people in the middle of a dungeon hallway, only they were the size of ants. The walls of rough-hewn stone stretched for miles out of sight. The polished wooden floor reflected the wavering torchlight. Even the matching wooden baseboards rose about a dozen feet tall. Way above them blazed torches as bright as miniature suns. Nacho was so tiny that he was having a hard time seeing the ceiling in any great detail—the hallway stretching out from them seemed endless.

Reuben was the one to approach the two remaining Sword Guys and offer his condolences. “I’m sorry about Sean, Sam, and Silas.”

Steve nodded sharply, his heartache leaking through every motion. “Thanks. We did well together. But at least they’re free from the Juxtaposition. May they be eating burgers and fries wherever they are.”

“Burgers and fries forever.” Stephen solemnly bumped fists with his friend, though their own secret handshake seemed to wither away as soon as the knuckles grazed against each other. “Look, we should be okay. We might only be Two Sword Guys here, but we’ll always be Five in our hearts.”

Both the red-armored Warriors abruptly turned on Nacho. “Tell us about this Starvation Dungeon. We need to beat it. For the fallen triple-S.”

Nacho held nothing back, explaining everything he had learned about the strange competition they found themselves in as the ragged team jogged just fast enough to be able to keep the pace up the entire day if needed. Once he was finished, Brie chimed in, somewhat concerned. “I used my Defensive Whirl twice and my Combat Dash once. Thanks to my Athletic Endurance, I have seventy-six Hunger Points left.”

Taye chimed in with his stats. “I used Eagle Aim twice. I’m at eighty Hunger.”

Abby banged her staff on the ground. “Uh, yeah, I didn’t use any of my Skills in there. Glad I didn’t. I hate being hungry… like, I really hate it. Anything else you can tell us, young buck?”

Nacho realized he had forgotten something important after all. “Brie can’t use her Melee Munchies ability, at least not until she’s within three hundred feet of the Portal of Feasting.”

Reuben seemed more impressed than upset. “It makes sense. They want us hungry, and Brie wouldn’t be hungry if she could turn damage into Hunger Points. Smart. They really thought of everything.”

“Please do not congratulate the enemy.” Brie clenched her jaws like she wanted to compress her teeth into diamonds. Nacho wished he had better news. Both Brie and Taye were already down on Hunger Points. If they beat the Starvation Dungeon quickly, it wouldn’t matter that much. But if it took even a little bit longer than twenty-four hours, those points just might prove the difference between life and death.

“I hope that there are food-related monsters in here, if there even are monsters.” Reuben jangled the Sausage Clips of Striking around his wrists. “I get bonuses. Nacho, my main man, I have a question. What if we went back into the Pantry and tried to run the CruxTerran’s dungeon instead?”

“Or what if we ambushed them?” Jennifer suggested darkly, fingers twitching as though she were imagining pouring caustic potions down their necks. “If we killed Arriod and his people, you think we’d win automatically?”

As if to answer her, an explosion of noise detonated from the other side of the door. It was no longer the brittle clatter of chips falling; cans of food had come crashing down to roll around in the mess. It was almost like something was pushing things off the shelves.

“Move faster!” The truth immediately dawned on Nacho. “The Patrons want us to run this dungeon like a race. The first team to the Dining Room Table and the Portal of Feasting wins; the loser probably gets squished!”

With how big the hallway was, and how small they were, they might spend all their time sprinting from one place to another. If that was the case, then food would become a real problem all too soon.

Reuben’s stomach growled almost as loudly as a can of soup that crashed to the ground behind them. “Abyss! My clothes are coated in cool ranch dust. Does this place have to smell so good? I’m gonna accidentally inhale too hard and doom our entire race!”