Book One - Chapter Eleven: Your Own Special Chowder

“REMEMBER ME?” she bellowed, spikes bristling from her back like an angry porcupine. “GREEN LADY REMEMBER YOU!”

Two trolls tried to double-team her from behind, but she spun with shocking speed for something so large, her spikes extending outward like deadly switchblades. They impaled both trolls, lifting them off the ground as they thrashed uselessly.

“NO ONE HURTS TINY MAN!” she bellowed, slamming the impaled trolls together until they shattered like cheap garden ornaments.

Then she was at my side, surprisingly gentle as she helped me up. Her clawed hands, each finger thick as my wrist, cradled me like I was made of spun glass.

“Tiny Man hurt?” she asked, her massive green face creased with concern.

“I'm okay, Greenie,” I wheezed, clutching my ribs as bone grated on bone. “Just a little… structural damage.”

“Green Lady,” she corrected, almost shyly. “Not Greenie.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry, Green Lady.” I managed a pained smile. “Thanks for the save.”

She beamed, revealing teeth that looked like they could chew through tank armor.

“Green Lady look for Tiny Man many moons. Follow smell.”

She thumped her chest hard enough to make the platform tremble. “Never forget smell of mate.”

I choked. “Mate? Uh. Right. That’s… wow. Super flattering. But also—”

She leaned in. There was something in her eyes. Something ancient.

Something committed.

Something that made me shut up.

“Now no talk. Now fight,” she snapped, eyes scanning the battlefield.

She wasn’t wrong. The battle was going from bad to worse. For every enemy we dropped, two more came pouring through.

I tried to stand. My body said no. Loudly.

I collapsed, and Green Lady caught me mid-fall like a linebacker saving a baby bird.

“Tiny Man okay?”

“I will be,” I gasped. “Just… park me somewhere safe.”

She nodded once, then tucked me under one arm like a meat football and barreled toward cover behind a shattered column. She set me down as gently as a nine-foot spike monster could, then turned to face the chaos.

“Green Lady protect,” she growled—and charged back into the fray like a living wrecking ball.

I lay there, flat and broken, helpless to do anything but watch. Peña and the others were still fighting, but we were being pushed back hard—inch by inch, blood for blood.

“Think you can grab my friend too?” I asked, barely able to move my lips. Green Lady followed my gaze, spotted Riley struggling to stand, then gave me a nod and bounded off.

Riley shouted in protest as she was scooped up like a duffel bag, but Green Lady deposited her beside me with surprising care.

“Stay. Heal,” she said. “Green Lady help.”

Then she vanished back into the carnage.

Riley groaned, reached into her inventory, and pulled out a Health patch. She slapped it on me like she was rebooting a broken printer.

The surge hit instantly.

Something snapped back into place—probably my shoulder, maybe my soul—and I howled as the pain was replaced with furious, blinding sensation.

I could move again.

“How about another?” I croaked.

“That was the last one,” she said. I glanced over—she was already wearing about seven.

Grimacing, I dragged myself deeper beneath the cover of a fallen pillar.

Just then, a Cerulian blast shrieked through the haze and caught a soldier mid-stride. The impact hurled him like a broken marionette, limbs twisting unnaturally as he crashed into the rubble beside us.

Half his face was gone, burned to the bone.

He met my eyes. Said nothing. Just stared.

I couldn’t help him. By the time I’d summoned the Morning Brew, he was gone.

Couldn’t even close his eyes.

He died watching me.

Blood pooled around my shoes.

“Goddammit,” I whispered. “Goddammit.”

[HEALTH AT 6%]

I still had a few things left.

Two coffee pods.

One Final Blend.

One Booster Brew.

One Morning Brew to lock my health at one for a few hours.

Battle Brew was on cooldown, and Final Blend or Booster Brew might literally kill me in my current state.

I scanned the battlefield.

Earth’s forces were flagging but Green Lady tore through the enemy ranks, a whirlwind of emerald fury, leaving crumpled bodies in her wake. Maybe—just maybe—she was the turning point. She surged forward like a giant green pinball of salvation, bouncing from one cluster of foes to the next, breaking the enemy line and reigniting our will to stand.

And that’s when I saw them—and my last bits of hope tripped, screamed, and fell headfirst into a deep, black hole with no bottom.

A new opening had exploded in the wall, larger than the others. Through it stepped figures so pristine they looked artificial—women with perfect posture and identical bobs, wearing immaculate pantsuits in various pastel colors. Their faces were set in expressions of serene disapproval, like teachers who caught you masturbating at your desk.

At their center walked a towering figure—a woman easily fifteen feet tall, wearing a crown that glittered gold. Her cape billowed behind her, stitched with phrases like “LIVE, LAUGH, LOVE” and “THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS RIGHT.”

“The Karens,” I whispered in horror.

I had no idea how the System chose names or handled translation, but with the entirety of the internet as its source material… this was probably the best it could do.

Their leader—Cassandra, the High Empress of Virtue—raised one perfectly manicured hand, and the smaller Karens fanned out in perfect formation.

“THIS ESTABLISHMENT IS IN VIOLATION OF SEVENTEEN THOUSAND FOUR HUNDRED AND FORTY-TWO COSMIC BYLAWS,” Cassandra's voice boomed across the cavern. “PREPARE FOR CORRECTION.”

The Karens attacked in unison. They didn't punch or kick or use weapons—they simply disapproved with such force that reality itself seemed to wither under their gaze. A strange sort of Warlock Paladins, hawking curses and debuffs. Earth soldiers staggered back, clutching their heads as wave after wave of shame washed over them.

One Karen pointed at a squad of soldiers, her finger trembling with righteous indignation. “YOUR DEFENSIVE FORMATION IS UNACCEPTABLE. I DEMAND TO SPEAK TO YOUR COMMANDING OFFICER.”

The soldiers dropped to their knees, their weapons clattering to the ground as they were overcome by a crushing sense of inadequacy.

Another Karen cornered Peña, her voice dripping with condescension. “HOVERING IS PROHIBITED IN THIS SECTOR. I'LL NEED TO SEE YOUR GRAVITY MANIPULATION LICENSE.”

Peña's gravity well faltered as he tried to defend himself. “Lady, I don't think—”

“DO NOT ASSUME MY GENDER, YOUNG MAN. I KNOW THE OWNER OF THIS DIMENSION.”

Across the battlefield, our forces were falling apart. Gravethralls smashed through formations. Cerulians floated overhead, raining down spells. And now the Karens had joined in—three of them cornering Green Lady, berating her posture, questioning her skin tone, and loudly demanding to see her manager.

Green Lady was slowing down. Her swings less precise. Her spikes drooping. Their psychic damage was working.

Riley kept firing from cover, trying to pick off enemies, but her health bar was low and she wouldn’t last long in close combat. Not against this mess.

I staggered to my feet, using a broken column for support, my mind jumping between options.

A ping chimed in my head.

[WOULD YOU LIKE TO ATTUNE TO THE CORE?]

[YES | NO]

I dismissed the prompt again. It wouldn’t stop asking. Like a really clingy pop-up ad.

What else do I got?

Attune to Core = death.

Final Blend = extra death.

Booster Brew = also—and let me check my notes here—yeah, more death.

Maybe it would be worth it. Down all three. Hope for the best. Go out in a blaze of beans and glory. The Morning Brew might give me a shot of being fixed up… which would only really matter if we won.

But the window on those brews was short—too short to guarantee I could do what needed doing.

I needed something else. Anything.

“Fuck it,” I muttered, striking my best hero pose.

I reached into my apron, desperate for a miracle. Wheel of Drinks, spin spin spin; tell us the fortune that we shall win.

I raided the goody-bag for a new potion.

My fingers brushed glass.

It looked like a thick chocolate milkshake crammed into a tiny mason jar—rich, smooth, slowly swirling. No label. No scent. Just cold in my hand… and not a single clue what the hell it really was.

[UNKNOWN BREW]

[EFFECTS: ???]

[WARNING: CONSUMING UNIDENTIFIED POTIONS MAY RESULT IN UNEXPECTED RESULTS. OBVIOUSLY.]

[LOOK AT YOU, YOU LITTLE SCIENCE EXPERIMENT.]

[THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS.]

“Screw it,” I muttered, unscrewing the lid..

I downed it in three long gulps. No brain-freeze, that was good.

It tasted like… oh no.

For a second, nothing happened.

Then my stomach clenched, my vision blurred, and every nerve in my body screamed:

[YOU HAVE DISCOVERED: MILKSHAKE OF QUESTIONABLE LEFTOVERS]

[EFFECT: EXTREME EXPLOSIVE DIARRHEA. YOUR OWN SPECIAL BRAND OF BROWN CHOWDER.]

[DURATION: APPROX. 3 MINUTES]

[STATUS: YOU DONE FUCKED UP]

[DARWIN AWARD GOES TO… YOU!]

Who the hell makes a drink that causes the drinker to projectile shit themselves?!

I went pale. Cold sweat broke across my spine.

Flashbacks hit hard—the taste, unmistakable. It was identical to that Korean BBQ joint just outside of town. The one with the health code C they keep taped under a poster of smiling dumplings.

I was about to be spectacularly useless to this battle.

Again.

Every part of me screamed. Including my ass, which was now a geyser of betrayal.

Riley turned to look at me—and immediately looked away. Disgust and disbelief on her face.

Right. She was still here.

Shit.

Either because of the smell, or more likely from seeing her soldiers fall, Riley—wounded and running on fumes—leaped from the relative safety of our alcove into the fray. She shoved her way through the chaos, guns blazing—but the shots passed through the Karens like they were nothing.

She switched to blades, lunging at the nearest Karen with a snarl.

The strike was clean. Precise. Deadly.

And completely useless.

Her swords sliced right through the Karen’s form, as if she wasn’t fully there. Like trying to cut through fog.

“YOUR WEAPONS NEED TO BE PROPERLY SHEATHED,” the Karen sniffed. “THIS IS A FAMILY-FRIENDLY APOCALYPSE.”

I checked my caffeine limit.

The last drink—useless as it was—had the added bonus of eating up two full pints of Caffeine Tolerance.

I was now a hair’s breadth from full-blown Overdose Mode.

Final Blend and Booster Brew...

I could technically take both.

Double the certain death.

But maybe—just maybe—I could pull off something epic. Go out swinging. Save the last shreds of my dignity before I died.

I shat a little more. A chunky bit made its way down my left leg.

The Core was in the distance, and I could swear it was looking at me. Its rhythm growing more urgent. The notification that had been lurking in my HUD since we arrived flashed again:

[CORE ATTUNEMENT AVAILABLE]

[ESTABLISH CONNECTION?]

[YES | NO]

[SERIOUSLY, THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE.]

[THE WHOLE PLANET'S COUNTING ON YOU. NO PRESSURE.]

[TICK TOCK, JERRY. TICK FUCKING TOCK.]

Riley fought, blood streaking her face. Peña's gravity fields flickered. Green Lady was roaring in defiance. The Earth soldiers dug in, refusing to die quietly.

I saw Billy, the young soldier I'd saved, now back on his feet, firing his weapon one-handed while blood soaked through the bandages around his chest.

I saw a Cerulian spell cut through a line of soldiers, vaporizing three instantly.

I saw Cassandra advancing on the Core itself, her hand outstretched to claim it.

We were losing. We had minutes, maybe seconds before we were overrun.

I'd tried every trick in my apron. I'd chugged unknown potions. I'd fought until my ribs cracked. Nothing was enough.

The Core pulsed again, almost seeming to reach for me, its colors shifting rapidly through patterns I somehow recognized as desperation. Fear. Hope.

[ATTUNE?]

[YES | NO]

“Fuck it,” I muttered. “Yes.”

FUCKING YES! I mentally shouted.

When the System responded, it didn’t use its usual sterile monotone. The voice was husky. Feminine. Almost amused.

[Now that’s a good boy.]