Weeaboo's Unfortunate Isekai: The Necromancer's Gacha

I told my Awakened souls to hang out and watch the fights, waving over Versai for a consult. I felt like this conversation really should be taking place around a sticky little table, but I made do with what there was. Which was a sticky corner. Dimly lit.

Low key wondered how many people were conceived in this corner. Just… had a feeling it was more than one.

“Alright, so, not a combat type dungeon, exactly.”

“They did say we would need to fight in the pit, Tower Master. None of us are particularly skilled at hand to hand fighting, and I guarantee one or all of them jump in the pit with us eventually.” Versai shook her beautiful head.”

“Agreed about them jumping in, and also agreed about us probably not being able to clear out the lower tier guys regardless. This is what they do. I’d put you against any of them with your sword in hand, but martial arts?” I shook my head.

“Oh, you would be surprised. Grappling and striking are key parts of soldier training in I don’t want to talk about it.” She frowned.

“It's more than a pain, huh? Well, either way, you aren’t exactly right. They said we would need to pay, and assumed correctly that we didn’t have any money.”

“I don’t see the distinction.” She looked curious.

“This is a story type scenario, one with variable outcomes and variable routes to clear.” I nodded slowly. The setting and vibe said Dishonored but the quest design screamed Morrowind. Much though I loved my JRPG’s, they wouldn’t be the guide here.

“A story scenario?”

“This never happened in Gradden March. You know it, they know it. This is an unreal place. Like Sebastian, they are real people forced in a role. The mad, cruel sons of Crusher Jim.”

“Well. ‘Forced.’ Not that I want to talk about it.”

“Some people find it easier to get into character than others?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“So where is the old man?”

She tilted her head to the side, giving me a questioning look.

“Where is Crusher Jim?”

“Ah. Would finding him help?”

“We need more information. More pieces we can move around. I don’t know what happens if we are still in here by the time the last fight ends, but I’m going to say… nothing good.”

She nodded fervently.

“So we split up and investigate. Wait. Can you investigate? Can you talk to people if I’m not there?”

“Of course I can!”

“No, I mean, all those things you ‘don’t want to talk about.’”

She hesitated. Then a little longer. “I… don’t know. It would be good to talk to anyone, really. For the first time in, I don't know how long. Even those… brothers. There are just things I don’t want to talk about with you, if that makes sense. Or say for you.”

I have always liked relationship mechanics. It makes sense. You have to take time to get to know someone, and how awesome would it be if you had an actual, visible graph showing your relationship with someone.

Like, imagine grinding affection with the clerk at the 7/11. Not romantically, just to the point where he would go “Eeeeeeyyy!” when you walked in the store. You would know exactly where you were on that because you could just look down and see the number of hearts you have. Or points or whatever.

You don’t have to guess. You don’t have to wonder if people are pretending to put up with you, but really hate you.

If they really are your friend.

…

“OKAY!” I said, smiling. “The first goal is identifying everyone that has a functioning brain on the map. That is, in this building. Quick as we can. Barge in everywhere you can- I don’t know if this map has bouncers or anything. I get the impression that the brothers are the muscle.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“They have a reputation, huh?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Versai looked helpless.

“Anywhere you safely can. I mean it. Ignore social convention entirely. Chat with everyone you can, especially if they look like they have a problem. Find out everything you can about them, their problems, hopes, dreams, whatever. They probably won’t be shy about telling you all about it.”

“Err… alright?”

“Don’t agree to anything just yet. Just go explore and listen.”

“As you wish, Tower Master.”

We split up. I performed a quick hand seal. Filthy Weeb Powers… ACTIVATE!

First stop- the bathroom. The bathroom strat has been out of fashion for a while, but finding easter eggs or hidden paths in there has been a game design staple for decades. The devs didn’t strike me as up-to-date on game design, let alone forward thinkers.

Top notch spot for finding clues hidden in the graffiti too, but in this case it would be like trying to find a needle in a needle factory, after an explosion in the shipping department.

The toilets, horribly, were not as expected. I leaned into the Filthy Weeb Jutsu, refusing to give in so easily. The stink. God the stink! Like the distillation of intestinal parasites and diets rich in cabbage and liquid carbs.

I forced myself to step through the swinging wooden door. One step. Another. There was no third step. Because my little leather slipper thingies stuck to the floor.

I tried to ease it up. Pull with a strong but steady lift of the leg. Denied. The smell was starting to bore in through my nostrils. Really drilling right up in there. Making its own little festering pit to nest in.

Lift from the heel? I tried rocking it up and forward. This seemed to have some results. I was able to force step after step. I had to grin, even through the horrible smell. This body didn’t get tired. If I could do it once, I could do it a thousand times.

Unisex toilet, I noticed. And not flushing either. I looked in an open stall. Just… holes in wooden boards. Nothing to wipe with either. Nor, shockingly, a bidet. Not even a poop knife.

Maybe everyone just brought their own.

Shuddering, I took a look around for anything that might be useful. I directly dismissed the possibility of a man-sized air vent with a conveniently hinged front grill. Were there any conveniently forgotten items in the stalls? I investigated the empty stalls- nothing. Or nothing I wanted.

Out of morbid curiosity, I tried taking a piss. Nope. Not that I had anything to excrete- I hadn’t drunk any of the free beer. But maybe an animation would trigger or something. It did not. I tested the boards that you were supposed to sit on. Nailed down, and thick. I had the dark suspicion that it was a latrine, not a sewer.

Any chance of something being lost in the latrine? I thought about it for a minute.

On balance, I think I would rather be beaten to death.

I knocked on the doors of the closed stalls. No answer. I shoved the stalls open. No latches, I had noticed. There were charcoal people sitting on the boards. They just looked at me. Sitting there like posed mannequins. No reaction. No pre-programmed movements. Just mannequins, displaying their ruined wares.

I started to leave the bathroom when my eye snagged on something. One of the charcoal people had their foot propped up on something. I walked into the stall, boldly ripping my feet from the floor as I went.

I tried to nudge the leg to one side. No luck. No reaction from the charcoal person either.

I couldn’t quite see what it was. Nothing too big, maybe a bit taller than a hockey puck? Two pucks? A little smaller than a disposable onna-hole… I would guess, having no idea what one of those are. At all. In any of their many, many configurations.

Look, they’re cheap, and it’s just harmless curiosity, okay? I know exactly how sickening your hobbies are. I’m the good one here.

I yanked at the critter’s knee- no reaction. Yanked harder, still stuck. Some of it seemed to be the stiffness of the leg itself- this charcoal briquette might actually be a mannequin.

Lateral thinking time- if I can’t move the leg, move the thing under the foot. I crouched down to try and poke it from the side. No luck. The light was terrible- whatever it was had a sort of glassy, maybe porcelain feeling to it, but it was as stuck to the floor as my feet.

I tried to yank it out but the angle was bad. I very quickly realized the problem- I was trying to yank the thing parallel to the floor, while it was in contact with the floor. Maximum friction, maximum stickage. Start from one side and rip up, that was the ticket. And the mannequin’s foot wasn’t exactly flat- there was room to maneuver under the heel.

Horrible as it was, I needed to kneel down to get it. At this point I was obsessed. It had to be a quest item. It just had to be. Even if it was an easter egg, it would tell us something! I looked at my definitely-manly-tights, weighed the odds, figured that if monster guts couldn’t stain it then it was stain proof, and knelt down inside the stall.

I tried to crane my head around, maybe shove the other leg out of the way, but it didn’t move any more than the first leg. I managed to hook my fingers around the front of whatever it was. Sort of a ribbed texture, with a bit of a lip to it. Some holes in it. U shaped, with a flat back towards the heel.

I tried prying it up- no dice. It would be a two hand job. Had to get one hand around the front, the other around the back and, oh yes, now my hands were touching the floor.

Words cannot describe the sheer textural horror I experienced. The combination of syrupy, sickly, and coarse was, I pray, uniquely awful. There is simply no word, no referent I can point to, to convey just how soul-violating touching that bathroom floor was.

To cap it off, more or less literally, I was headbutting the charcoal mannequin. My head kept banging into it’s gut. I would try to shift around, reach down and haul, and my head was slamming into its gut. My grunts of effort as I hauled were lost in the BGM of the bar.

In an especially creepy touch, some of the charcoal mannequins would shuffle in, pretend to use the latrine, and leave. Their feet ripping up on the sticky floor. I had a horrible suspicion I now knew where the “gritty” part of the floor texture came from.

If those shuffling figures were failed Tower Lords and their summons…

I got back to yanking. A solid rhythm this time. I could feel one corner starting to lift up. Steady, firm pull, then down again, reset and try again. It was working, though I’m sure my hair was now filled with dead-co-worker dandruff.

“Tower Master, I have… Excuse me. I saw nothing.”

I tried to crank my head around-

“No! I’m just trying-”

“I said I didn’t see anything. Thank God…”

The most beautiful woman in the world was looking away, the disgust evident in her face.

“NO! I’m just, it’s stuck!”

“And you need to get it out. Oh yes, I think one of my maids fell for that one. Once.”

“I can’t get it out. It’s stuck and I need to get it out!”

“Clearly. I believe in you. You can do it. Or, you know. You could kill yourself. Just. Immediately kill yourself. Right now. That’s an option. Hint Hint.”

“Please! It’s not like that, I need your help here!”

“I think I’m going to throw up.” She covered her mouth and bent over. I could see a profile of pure, horrified revulsion. “Oh MY GOD. Of all the vile things a Tower Master has ever asked me to do-”

“No, it’s not like that! Not like that!” I was desperately pulling now, my whole body straining to stand up. With a sudden squelch, the thing ripped free of the floor and went flying out of the stalls. Landing with a vile thwap on Versai’s cheek.