Egbert didn’t even have to debate what he would choose; the little guy had already proved he was a good self-starter, and any good boss delegated to his most competent minions.

  [Let the spiteful bastard choose his own fate.] [Chosen]

  [Loot Bug Desires Being Read]

  [System denies upgrade to Insectoid Wealth Dragon]

  [System denies upgrade to Soul Render Matriarch]

  [System Again denies upgrade to Insectoid Wealth Dragon]

  [Loot Bug Upgrade Accepted]

  Egbert practically buzzed waiting for the next pop-up; the little psycho has asked the system to make it a dragon twice. He couldn’t wait to see what it had begrudgingly accepted. The message never came, goddammit! Egbert zoomed into the loot pit room after Randy and the loot bug; if the system didn’t want to just tell him, then he could go find the little monster and identify it.

  The sight ahead of Egbert stopped him short of his goal, though. Randy was squared off against a slightly transparent old man who looked so weathered his wrinkles had wrinkles. He was hunched over a cane in one hand a cup jingling for alms in the other. The ghost’s voice was shockingly pleasant and kind, sounding like anyone’s favorite grandpa. “Please, young man, just a coin or two. That’s all I need to buy my medicine.” The ghost called out, shuffling closer to Randy.

  “Back, demon! I know what you are!” Randy apparently wasn’t feeling generous; he slashed his sword, and a thin crescent of fire swept forward, scattering the old man into a ghostly blue mist. “Now where did that little menace go!” Randy jogged right over to the edge of the pit, giving a curious look to the grease dispenser he stopped next to.

  The man grabbers both fired with a loud ca-chunk sound, lazily lobbing their claws at Randy. His eyes went wide, and he backpedaled from the edge, deflecting one massive claw with his sword. The other hit him near the nether regions and pulled back, sweeping his feet from under him. The claws slipped free after only pulling him a bit closer to the edge, though. Aww damn, better luck next time!

  Randy lay on the ground whimpering softly as he held his pride and joy in agony and rocked back and forth a bit. Ha! Armor doesn’t stop all the force of a blow. Look at it this way, Randy: if you hadn’t been wearing armor, that probably would have popped one of them!

  Joe and Ben finally made it up to their incapacitated leader. Joe peeked over the edge, sidestepping quickly to avoid the shots that trailed after him, and then squinted hard at the scene below, the obvious traps and oil-slicked stairs, as well as the kindly old ghost shuffling up the steps towards him; finally, his eyes locked onto the chest very obviously nestled into the center of it all.

  Egbert looked around as well; he couldn’t see the damned loot bug anywhere. Where did he go? It's not like there are a lot of places to hide in here.

  Joe talked loud enough to be heard over the ghost, Randy's pained mewling, and the gurgling of oil. “Hey Ben, there is a chest in there after all. The place is trapped to shit and oil slicked, though! I’ll draw the Claws’ fire and turn one of the stupid oil traps off if you can get down there, deactivate one of the claws, and pick the chest open. I think we can manage it.”

  Ben perked up at the mention of treasure and practically apparated a small lockpicking set into his left hand. Joe dodged another pair of shots from the pit and slotted two silver into the trap, cutting off the flow of oil. Ben leaped down the stairs two at a time, impressive agility in armor on display.

  [1 Gold]

  HA HA! YES, moving up in the world, and all I had to do to achieve this success was sacrifice the dignity of an underperforming door and probably prevent a knight from ever having progeny! Egbert looked a bit guiltily at Randy; the man had mostly scrambled to his knees, so that was an improvement, but instead of near-catatonic rocking, he had graduated to dry heaving angrily. Ehh, he will be fine, and if he's not, I bet I can melt down his armor for a few silver.

  Ben made it to the chest, descending down the now dry stairs, and barely dodged a claw before sliding next to the chest with his lockpick set. He fumbled with its keyhole-free surface before cursing up a storm. “There is no fucking keyhole to pick!” he shouted up before ducking behind the chest as a claw sailed overhead.

  Joe gestured angrily to him. “Just grab the fucking thing; we can bust it open up here!” The little old ghost was nearly next to Joe at this point, and Joe spun, weapon at the ready, towards him.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Alms, alms for the poor?” The ghost rattled his cup towards Joe as he shuffled closer.

  Joe grimaced. “Man, I feel kinda shitty about this,” and lunged forward in a perfect stab that harmlessly passed through the ghost’s throat. His face went a bit pale. “Oh shit.” The old man’s hand grabbed him by the coin purse and disappeared into Joe in a flash of white mist.

  Ben was wobbling desperately up the stairs, dragging the chest one step at a time before dropping it and flinging himself to the side as the claws cycled between reloading and trying to catch him. He had made it nearly halfway up like this, but he was starting to barely be able to shuffle the chest to the next step. “This thing better be filled with golden bars. Dear gods, why is it so heavy!” He huffed out.

  Egbert, meanwhile, was happily counting how long the chest had been off its teleport anchor. Thirty-three, thirty-four, better hurry up there, Ben! Don’t slow down now! Egbert joked.

  Ben made it up another step just as Joe peeked over the edge, a maniacal expression of sheer joy on his face, his arms spread wide in ecstasy. “Oh, to be young again! Laden with gold and brimming with vigor! I can at least help this lad with his heavy burden!” A voice crooned from Joe's mouth. Ben looked up in a mix of annoyance and confusion.

  Joe’s possessed body took two large steps back and then sprinted to the edge of the pit, leaping forward, arms spread wide, a shout of joy trailing behind for a second as he sailed over Ben. Joe hit the ground with the crash of bending metal in a glorious belly flop. Then the possessed body popped right to its feet like it hadn’t just broken half the bones in the knight’s body and began cheerfully taking its armor off.

  Not conventionally dangerous, my ass system! What, the crazy grandpa ghost is not harmful unless he is left near anywhere with gravity? If I put his coin bag in a damned spike pit, he would probably be the most effective murder in the vale! Grandpa, slow the hell down a bit. I want them to be able to come back eventually, not clutter up my limited space with their corpses!

  Ben made it to the last step, a look of herculean effort on his face, shaking with effort as he put his shoulder under it and heaved it over the lip of the pit. There was a loud pop sound of displaced air as it teleported back to the bottom of the pit. Ben looked back and forth between where he put it and where it was now a few times, comprehension slowly dawning in his features. “Fuck this place!!” Ben screamed, rolling back out of the pit just in time to avoid a claw.

  Joe’s possessed body happily finished stripping down to his undergarments and shuffled all his armor into a neat pile on top of a coin bag that was nestled on the far left of the pit floor. He tossed his sword and shield on top as well with a maniacal grin before beginning his trudge up the stairs. Suddenly his face changed as the ghost was expelled from Joe’s body. “Dear fucking GAAHHH, my everything! He rushed over to the pile of belongings, ripping a health potion from the stack and chugging it while claws clinked past him.

  Joe Didn’t even try to put it back on; he roughly scooped his armor and sword up in a bear hug and ran up the stairs. The grease started trickling down the steps again at that point. Ben, who was watching it all from above, didn’t even say anything; he just slotted two more silver into the trap so he wouldn’t have to go back down into the pit and fish Joe out.

  [Silver 2] [Gold 1]

  Egbert was impressed with his own evil genius at this point. The knights roughly dragged Randy behind them as they practically fled back into the loot bug room. Joe was cursing under his breath painfully. Randy was vowing revenge against the accursed mage's guardian bug. Ben was just trying to get everyone to keep going.

  Their bickering stopped as a figure crawled into the tangle of molten stone that was the dexterity room, reeking like ale and unspeakable things, face red with effort. The fourth member of their party had made it. He was even younger than the others, probably having just gained his class, and his armor had a more ornate sheen than the others with white and golden highlights. He raised a finger as if to say something profound before slowly placing his head face-first down on the cooling stone.

  Randy looked over at the disgusting form of their fourth member. “Alright, who is carrying Carter back down the stairs? My balls hurt way too much for it.”

  Joe looked at him like he was insane. “I was just thrown into a pit by a fucking ghost. I can barely walk even with a healing potion!”

  Ben sighed. “I’ll do it, guys. Can we just get the fuck out of here?” They bunched up near the haste shrine to argue for a moment as Randy suggested coming back the next day to try again when they were more prepared.

  Egbert had wandered away from the tight huddled conversation, instead watching as the world's slowest motion tragedy played out. The world's least apex predator, the door mimic, was wildly inching forward on its face, still completely bound up, towards the unconscious man, simply using its toes to push its face forward along the ground. I swear…if you manage this, I won’t even put you in the basement, but please don’t actually kill a knight; that might cause me some problems I’m not ready for yet.

  Inch by inch impending doom ineffectively made it to the unconscious man; the top of its doorframe body formed into a laughably small mouth and began gnawing on the man's hand. Carter's drunken scream broke the rest of the crew from their debate. He was half rolled over, pushing away desperately at the bound mimic, bleeding like a stuck pig from his hand.

  “Gods above, fuck this place,” Joe huffed before limping over and kicking Buyer’s Remorse back into a heap in the corner. “We can debate all this shit anywhere that isn’t actively trying to eat or rob us!” Joe didn’t wait for an answer, limping the hell out the front door.

  Randy grumbled but followed after. Ben was right on his tail, a bandage wrapped around Carter's bleeding hand, helping the drunk stumble after the others. Haha! Now that was a successful night! Egbert looked at the obstacle course that had been reduced to slag with a wince. Things might have escalated a bit more than I anticipated, but nobody died, and more importantly!

  [2 silver] [1 gold]

  I have a decent little chunk to work with! Now where the flying hell did the loot bug get off too? I really want to know what he became.