"How many times are you going to do that?" asked Kelima.

Terry shot her an unamused look and said, "At least a thousand times more."

With that, he summoned the queen's source stone from his storage ring. Then, he put it back.

"How can that still be entertaining?" she asked, clearly perplexed.

"One, we didn't have anything like this where I come from. This is never going to stop being amazing to me. Two, I've been stuck in this isekai nightmare for months now without one of these. It's been horrible. Think of how much easier this trip would have been if we'd had this from the start?"

"Well, you're not wrong about that."

"Three," said Terry, "this might well be the first genuinely good thing that's happened to me since I got here. I'm going to revel in the novelty of that for as long as I can."

"How long do you think that will be?" asked Kelima.

"Oh, probably right up until we go to the next floor. I expect everything will turn back to shit then."

"You know what," said Kelima as she tried to stifle a yawn, "I'm too tired to care about any of this. I'm just going to get some sleep."

Suiting actions to words, she stretched out on some blankets and dropped off almost immediately.

"She just doesn't understand," cooed Terry to his new storage ring. "It's gonna be me and you till the wheels fall off."

You do understand that's an inanimate object that can't actually love you back, right? asked other-Terry.

Yes, I understand that, Terry thought back. Stop ruining this for me!

As long as you understand, I guess.

Damn it. You ruined it.

That's probably for the best, you know. Too much gloating is just inviting the universe to punish you.

I wasn't gloating, objected Terry.

What would you have called it?

Fine. I was gloating. Don't you think I deserved it?

Wait. I feel a Clint Eastwood quote coming on. Deserve's got nothing to— started other-Terry.

You're kind of a kill-joy, you know that?

I do, acknowledged the construct. So, now that you've got your special ring of holding stuff, what next?

What do you mean, what next? The plan hasn't changed. Get out of the dungeon. Get the unobtanium. Get the swords. Go home and fight the monster army that will almost certainly be invading just as we arrive.

No thoughts of abandoning the girl?

Not after all the hassles I've been through keeping her alive. I was showered in cockroach goo, thank you very much.

Are you familiar with the sunk-cost fallacy?

You know that I am. Also, that argument works a lot better when you're talking about abandoning a soulless corporation than a living, breathing person. I can't believe you're suggesting that I should.

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I wasn't, actually, said other-Terry. But I figure it's worth testing you occasionally to see if you've started slipping down the path to homicide vagrancy.

Thanks, I guess, said an uncertain Terry. But shouldn't I be the one trying to figure out if you're pushing me to be a murderhobo?

Other-Terry said nothing. He said it very loudly.

Homicide vagrant, thought Terry.

I knew you'd get there, offered other-Terry. For the record, you were the one who was worried about that. I've never encouraged you in that direction.

No, admitted Terry. I suppose you haven't. There's going to be minotaurs on the next floor, aren't there?

Maybe not the next floor, but I'd be legitimately flabbergasted if they aren't on the last floor of this dungeon.

In that case, I should probably follow Kelima's example and get some sleep. I figure if there were going to be more monsters on this floor, we'd have seen them by now.

Even if there were any left when you came in here, dungeons almost always absorb any leftovers when people beat the floor boss. What's the point of sending minions when you've already proven you can beat something much bigger and more dangerous?

Revenge springs to mind.

Dungeons don't usually have enough self-awareness for that, answered other-Terry.

Usually is a terrible word in this context.

Sorry. It's the best I've got.

While he wasn't afflicted with the obviously bone-deep weariness that had driven Kelima to sleep, Terry was tired. He honestly wasn't sure how long he'd been awake. The passage of time was difficult to track in the dungeon. One fight bled into the next, just as one floor bled into the next. Beyond that, there had been few opportunities to sleep without worry since he'd set out on this journey. Not that his experience was special. The same was likely true for anyone traveling in this world. Deep sleep and forest monsters were just not phrases that went well together. However, it would be foolish to ignore the opportunity for actual rest. Who knew when he'd get another chance before returning home? Mentally setting aside the construct's disquieting usually, Terry let himself slip into sleep's gentle embrace.

When he woke up, he knew that he'd been dreaming about food from back on Earth. There was literal drool on his lip, and the taste memory of some really good street tacos he'd once had was fresh. Sitting up and wiping the drool from his mouth, Terry tried to push thoughts of tacos out of his head. Knowing my luck, this world won't have jalapeños either, thought Terry. No jalapeños means no pico de gallo. Not that tacos absolutely required pico de gallo, but he preferred that as a topping over things like taco sauce or actual salsa. It made for pretty good eating with a bag of tortilla chips.

"I need to stop thinking about food from home," he told himself, knowing it was useless advice even as he said it.

He could live without TV. The internet was sorely missed, but a survivable absence. He could even live without the music, even if it did suck a lot of the joy out of being alive. Living without familiar foods for the rest of his life, though? That might just be what it took to break him. While he'd never had any particular interest in agriculture, he was starting to think he might need to take it up as a very serious hobby. If he couldn't find someone selling celery and jalapeños, he'd just grow them himself. How hard could it be? No sooner had that question crossed his mind than he thanked God that he hadn't said it out loud.

Before he could actually get up and do something productive, Dusk crawled up onto his leg and mewled at him. Unable to endure the emotional blackmail, he scratched around her ears and petted the kitten's head until she grew bored. He watched with amusement and a faint sense of betrayal as the feline walked over to where Kelima was still sound asleep. The kitten stepped up onto the girl's stomach and turned a few times before settling down for her own nap. Slowly rising to his feet, Terry stretched and yawned.

That was something else he dearly missed. Coffee. Oh, how he yearned for his morning cup of joe. Fortunately, the body he'd landed in wasn't addicted to caffeine the way his old body had been. Not that it helped the psychological dependence that was rooted deep in his psyche. He wished he knew how long it would be before he stopped thinking about coffee every time he woke up. There wasn't any wood to build a campfire. So, he couldn't even make the dirty leaf water that was this world's underpowered coffee substitute. Terry thought he might be able to use his qi fire powers to heat up some water, but doubted he had enough control for that.

Unwilling to wake Kelima before she was ready to get up, he was somewhat at a loss for what to do. Then, he remembered that source stone from the queen. He grinned like an idiot as he summoned it from his shiny new storage ring. It was the biggest source stone he'd seen so far, so it would probably take a while to absorb it. That struck him as a good way to kill time and do something useful. Memories of how prior source stones made him feel stayed his hand, but only briefly. There was literally nothing else to do if he didn't want to wake Kelima up. Taking a deep breath, he focused on the stone in his hand. It converted into a huge cloud of mist and was immediately sucked into his body.

"I think this was a mistake," said Terry, right before the pain hit.

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