> God's Ultimate Cheat Console
>  by underrated Drake
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> G.U.C.C. Ch. 1 The one who was blessed.
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“In the sprawling world of Equestria, where the skies weave tales of enchantment and the earth thrums with unbridled magic, every soul is kissed by arcane wonders at birth. Magic, as intrinsic to life as the air we breathe, courses through the veins of every being, regardless of race or creed. And within this realm of mystical allure, each individual is graced with a unique gift – a skill that shapes their destiny.

From the humblest of hamlets to the grandest of cities, these skills are the lifeblood of Equestria's society, ranging from the mundane to the extraordinary, classified meticulously from F-, the simplest, to L+++, the echelons of legend. A child might be born with the skill to coax plants to bloom, while another could wield the tempestuous power of the storm. These skills, as varied as the stars in the night sky, dictate one's path, profession, and purpose in the grand tapestry of life.

In Equestria, where danger and wonder coexist, the bravest souls venture forth as adventurers or dungeon crawlers – esteemed titles that carry not just glory but the weight of responsibility. These dauntless hearts explore the unknown, battle fearsome creatures, and uncover ancient secrets. Like the skills they wield, adventurers and dungeoners are ranked, with those few reaching the legendary L status revered as demigods, their feats the stuff of legends that fuel the dreams of every aspiring youth. In some realms, the might of a single L-ranked adventurer can uphold an entire nation's economy, their exploits more precious than the rarest of jewels.

The paths of adventurers are as varied as the skills they possess. Mages, masters of the arcane, weave spells of destruction and protection, their power as diverse as the elements themselves. Brawlers, with fists like crashing boulders, battle with raw strength and indomitable will. Rogues, shadows in the night, strike from the unseen, their cunning as sharp as their blades. Knights and Paladins, armored guardians of virtue, uphold justice with sword and shield. Gunslingers, quick as lightning, let their bullets dance in deadly ballets. And then, there are the Assassins and Ninjas, silent as the whispering wind, whose mere presence spells doom for their targets.

But beyond these well-trodden paths lie countless others – Beast Tamers who whisper to the wild, Alchemists whose brews defy reality, and Scholars who unravel the mysteries of the world. Each adventurer, unique in their skill and choice of path, contributes to the vibrant tapestry of Equestria.

In this world where magic intertwines with fate, the life of an adventurer is not merely a profession but a calling. A calling that beckons to the brave, the bold, and the curious, promising a life of danger, discovery, and, above all, the unfathomable allure of the unknown. Welcome to Equestria, where every step is a story, and every story is a step into the endless dance of magic and wonder.

Beyond the ranks and roles of adventurers, Equestria itself is a land of breathtaking diversity and boundless mystery. Its geography ranges from the sun-kissed Golden Plains, where golden wheat dances with the wind, to the Crystal Mountains, their peaks piercing the heavens, shimmering like diamonds under the sun. Between these extremes lie enchanted forests, home to ancient spirits, and vast deserts where the sands whisper forgotten tales.

Equestria's political landscape is as intricate as its physical one. Kingdoms, principalities, and city-states dot the map, each with its own customs, cultures, and magic. Some are ruled by wise monarchs who wield magic with grace, while others are under the iron grip of tyrants, their thirst for power darkening the land.

The heart of Equestria's economy pulses with the trade of magical artifacts and the exchange of skills. Marketplaces bustle with traders selling potions, enchanted weapons, and mysterious relics from uncharted lands. Guilds play a pivotal role, governing the activities of adventurers and dungeon crawlers. These guilds not only organize quests and expeditions but also serve as places of learning, where novices train under the watchful eyes of masters.

Magic, in Equestria, isn’t just a tool; it's a way of life. It influences art, cuisine, architecture, and even the simplest of daily tasks. Enchanted carriages roam the streets of grand cities, buildings defy gravity, and chefs concoct dishes that tantalize not just the taste buds but all senses.

But Equestria's magic also harbors darker aspects. Forbidden spells and cursed lands exist, reminders of the thin line between control and chaos. Ancient ruins scattered across the landscape hold secrets not meant for mortal eyes, guarded by creatures born from nightmares.

Despite its wonders, Equestria is not without its challenges. Monsters and beasts of legend roam the wilds, making travel dangerous for the unprepared. Bandits and rogue magic users lurk in the shadows, preying on the unwary. Political intrigue and power struggles can turn deadly, with adventurers often caught in the middle.

Amidst all this, a rare few are born with the potential to change the course of history. They are the wielders of skills so unique and powerful that their very existence can become a pivot upon which the fate of Equestria turns. These individuals, sought after for their abilities, are both celebrated and feared.

As the sun sets over Equestria, casting long shadows over the land, it's clear that this world is one of endless possibilities and countless stories. Each dawn brings new adventures, new challenges, and new mysteries to unravel. In Equestria, every step is an adventure, every encounter a potential legend, and every individual a part of the ever-unfolding story of magic, might, and mystery.

As Equestria's vibrant hues give way to the velvet cloak of night, an entirely different aspect of this magical land awakens. Under the moon's pale glow, the nocturnal denizens of Equestria stir, adding yet another layer to the already complex tapestry of this realm.

Among the most intriguing and feared of these nighttime entities are the Vampire Clans. Shrouded in mystery and ancient tradition, these clans have existed for as long as the oldest records of Equestria. Each clan, distinct in its customs and abilities, controls territories in the darker corners of the land. They are bound by a strict code, a remnant of age-old agreements made to maintain a fragile peace with the mortal realms. These vampires are not mere predators; they are sophisticated, cultured, and deeply involved in the political undercurrents of Equestria.

The Vampire Clans vary greatly. Some, like the Clan of the Crimson Moon, are known for their regal bearing and diplomatic skills, often engaging in alliances with human nobility. Others, such as the Shadowed Fang, are more reclusive, preferring the company of ancient tomes and forbidden magic. These vampires possess powers beyond the common magic of Equestria – the ability to manipulate shadows, control minds, and, for some, even defy time itself.

On the other end of the spectrum are the Monster Tamers. These unique individuals possess the extraordinary skill to communicate, control, and bond with the various monsters and mythical creatures that roam the wilds of Equestria. Monster Tamers are as diverse as the creatures they befriend – some are wandering loners, forming deep bonds with a single creature, while others lead caravans of fantastical beasts, their presence a spectacle wherever they go.

The Monster Tamers play a crucial role in maintaining the balance between the civilized and wild parts of Equestria. They are often called upon to resolve conflicts between humans and magical beasts, ensuring that neither side suffers undue harm. The bond between a Monster Tamer and their creature is sacred and profound, often involving a deep mutual respect and understanding that transcends language.

In the hidden enclaves and secret glades of Equestria, where the moon's silver light filters through ancient trees, nocturnal ceremonies and gatherings take place. Here, the Vampire Clans convene in grand courts, discussing matters of politics and power, while Monster Tamers meet in silent communion with the creatures of the night, sharing knowledge and tales of their travels.

As the night deepens, the line between myth and reality blurs in Equestria. Tales of haunted forests where time stands still, of ghostly ships sailing in the sky, and of hidden oases in the desert where the stars come down to drink, become more than mere stories. They are a testament to the magic and mystery that thrives under the cover of darkness.

In Equestria, nightfall is not just the end of the day; it's the beginning of a world where the extraordinary becomes the norm, and where every shadow holds a story waiting to be told. The Vampire Clans and Monster Tamers are but two threads in the rich tapestry of this nocturnal world, each adding their unique color to the ever-evolving legend that is Equestria.

As the moon reigns over Equestria's night sky, another vital facet of this enchanted world comes to life – the artisans who work in the quiet hours. Among these skilled craftsmen are the Blacksmiths, Gunsmiths, and Tome Decoders, each playing a crucial role in the ongoing saga of Equestria.

The Blacksmiths of Equestria are not mere forgers of metal; they are alchemists of the forge, blending magic and metal to create weapons and armors that are the stuff of legend. Under the cover of night, their forges glow like miniature suns, the sounds of hammers striking anvils echoing like rhythmic thunder. These artisans infuse their creations with enchantments – swords that never dull, shields that can withstand dragonfire, and armor that moves like liquid shadow. Some blacksmiths specialize in creating intricate jewelry that holds magical properties, from amulets that protect against dark magic to rings that enhance the wearer's natural abilities.

Gunsmiths, on the other hand, marry the ancient art of metallurgy with the newer science of ballistics. In a land where magic is prevalent, these craftsmen have found ways to imbue firearms with arcane powers. Bullets that track their target, rifles that shoot blasts of elemental energy, and pistols that can be summoned back to the hand after being thrown. Gunsmiths work closely with adventurers, tailoring their creations to fit the specific needs and skills of their clients. Their workshops are filled with intricate tools and mysterious components, the air often tinged with the scent of gunpowder and magic.

Tome Decoders are the scholars of the night, custodians of knowledge and secrets. In their libraries and studies, lit by the soft glow of enchanted candles, these individuals pour over ancient texts, unraveling mysteries that have perplexed minds for centuries. They are linguists, historians, and codebreakers, their lives dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge. Tome Decoders often collaborate with adventurers, providing crucial information about lost civilizations, deciphering maps to hidden treasures, or translating cryptic prophecies. Their work is meticulous and often dangerous, as some tomes hold dark secrets not meant for the unprepared.

Together, these nocturnal artisans form the backbone of Equestria's economy and lore. They are revered and respected, their skills a vital part of the adventurers' journeys. In a world where every object can hold magic and every piece of knowledge can lead to power or peril, the Blacksmiths, Gunsmiths, and Tome Decoders are as essential as the adventurers themselves.

As dawn approaches and the first light of the sun starts to shimmer on the horizon, these artisans conclude their nightly labors. Their crafts and discoveries add layers of depth and intrigue to Equestria, ensuring that with each passing night, the world becomes a little more wondrous, a little more mysterious, and infinitely more captivating.

At the heart of Equestria, amidst the myriad tapestries of magic, politics, and power, stands the Equestrian World Grand Council – the epicenter of governance and diplomacy. This illustrious council is a microcosm of Equestria itself, representing every race, clan, religion, and economic faction within the realm. It is here, in the grand chambers of the Council Hall, where the most crucial decisions affecting all of Equestria are made.

Presiding over this assembly of diversity and power are two figures of legendary stature – Princess Celestina "Celestia" Solaris and her sister, Luna Nightfall Solaris. Celestia, radiant as the sun she commands, is the embodiment of wisdom, grace, and benevolence. Her leadership has guided Equestria through ages of prosperity and peace. Celestia's magic is said to be as powerful as the sun itself, capable of nurturing life and illuminating the path of righteousness.

Luna Nightfall Solaris, on the other hand, is the guardian of the night and the patron of dreams. Her presence is as calming as the moonlit sky, and her insights are as deep as the night is dark. Luna's connection to the moon grants her the ability to navigate the mysteries of the subconscious, making her an invaluable advisor in matters that transcend the mundane.

Together, these royal sisters represent the balance of day and night, serving as the perfect mediators for the Council's diverse members. Their complementary strengths ensure that every voice is heard and every concern addressed with fairness and wisdom.

The Grand Council is a spectacle of unity in diversity. Representatives of the Vampire Clans sit alongside human monarchs, their age-old rivalries set aside for the greater good of Equestria. Elven sages deliberate with Dwarven lords, their discussions a blend of ancient wisdom and practical foresight. Monster Tamers, with their unique perspectives on the natural and supernatural, contribute insights crucial for maintaining harmony between the civilized and wild realms.

Economic powers, including the heads of major guilds and merchant princes, bring their understanding of trade and commerce, ensuring that Equestria's economy thrives. Religious leaders, representing the myriad faiths of Equestria, offer spiritual guidance, reminding the council of the moral and ethical implications of their decisions.

In this council, every decision is weighed with the utmost care, considering the impact on every corner of Equestria. From declarations of peace to the implementation of new laws, from the approval of grand explorations to the mediation of disputes, the Council's influence is far-reaching.

The Grand Council's decisions are not just about governance; they are a reflection of the harmonious coexistence of all Equestria's inhabitants. Under the guidance of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, the council embodies the ideals of unity, respect, and mutual cooperation, serving as a beacon of hope and stability in a world brimming with magic and mystery.

In Equestria, where every day is a new adventure and every night a new dream, the Equestrian World Grand Council stands as a testament to the possibility of harmony amidst diversity, guiding the realm through the ever-unfolding saga of its existence.

In the vibrant and dynamic world of Equestria, where magic and adventure are as common as the air one breathes, the profession of an adventurer holds a place of unrivaled allure and prestige. This widespread fascination, however, casts a long shadow over the myriad other professions that keep the day-to-day life of Equestria running smoothly.

While blacksmiths forge enchanted weapons and alchemists concoct potent elixirs, there are countless others engaged in what have become viewed as more mundane occupations. Bakers, tailors, farmers, carpenters, and merchants – these professions, though essential, are often relegated to the background, seen as fallbacks or part-time occupations for those not destined for the path of adventure. For many, these jobs are reserved for individuals who, for various reasons, lack the extraordinary powers, skills, or talents to embark on perilous quests or explore uncharted territories.

In Equestria's schools and academies, the dream of becoming an adventurer is kindled early and burns brightly in the hearts of many young souls. Classrooms buzz with tales of legendary heroes and their epic deeds, fueling the ambitions of eager students. The idea of venturing into the unknown, battling fearsome beasts, and uncovering ancient treasures captivates their young minds. It is a dream nurtured by the very fabric of Equestrian society, where tales of adventure are passed down through generations and celebrated in festivals and songs.

This cultural phenomenon has its consequences. Some youths, blinded by the glamour of the adventurer's path, overlook their innate talents in other areas. The societal emphasis on becoming an adventurer often leads to a skewed perception of success and fulfillment. It is not uncommon for individuals to experience a sense of inadequacy or failure if they do not achieve the coveted status of an adventurer, despite excelling in other important fields.

However, Equestria, in all its diversity and magic, still values and respects the contributions of all its citizens. The farmers who till the magical lands to produce bountiful harvests, the craftsmen who build the homes and structures that withstand both time and magic, the healers and herbalists who tend to the sick and injured – all play indispensable roles in the fabric of Equestrian society. Their skills, though not as glorified, are the backbone of daily life.

Moreover, there are those who find ways to blend their talents with the world of adventure. Inventors create devices that aid adventurers on their quests. Cartographers chart unknown lands, providing valuable maps for exploratory endeavors. Historians and scholars offer insights that guide adventurers in their quests for ancient artifacts.

In Equestria, the dream of adventure is a powerful force, one that drives many to strive for greatness. Yet, beneath the tales of heroism and magic, lies the recognition that every individual, regardless of their path or profession, contributes to the rich and intricate tapestry of this magical land. It is a world where dreams of glory coexist with the quieter, yet equally important, achievements of everyday life.

In the 21st century, the world of Equestria blends the mystical and fantastical elements of its rich history with the advancements and sensibilities of modern times. This unique fusion creates a realm where magic and technology coexist, intertwining in ways that redefine the boundaries of possibility.

Equestria's cities are marvels of this blend, where skyscrapers crafted with enchanted materials reach towards the sky, and neon signs cast spells of advertisement. The streets are a symphony of traditional carriages drawn by magical creatures alongside sleek, self-driving vehicles powered by arcane energy. The internet exists here, a vast network of information and communication, but it is enhanced by magical encryption and mystical interfaces.

Modern Equestrian society is steeped in technology that is imbued with magic. Smartphones and tablets capable of casting holographic displays are commonplace, and AI assistants are often replaced or augmented with sentient digital sprites. Social media platforms are not just for sharing experiences but also for trading magical tips, organizing dungeon raids, and live-streaming adventurous exploits.

Despite the technological advancements, the allure of becoming an adventurer remains strong in the 21st century. Equestrian education systems integrate traditional academic subjects with courses on magic application, monster lore, and survival skills. Virtual reality simulations are used for training, allowing young aspirants to experience the thrills of adventuring in a controlled environment. However, the gap between virtual adventures and the real dangers of Equestria's wilds is significant, a fact that educators and parents often emphasize.

The role of non-adventurer professions has evolved in this modern era. Scientists and engineers work alongside alchemists and enchanters, leading to groundbreaking inventions that merge science and sorcery. Medical fields benefit from a combination of advanced technology and healing magic, making Equestria a leader in healthcare innovations. Artists and entertainers use magical and digital mediums to create immersive experiences that captivate audiences around the world.

Globalization in Equestria has led to a cosmopolitan culture, with cities boasting diverse populations of different races and creatures. International travel is facilitated not just by airplanes but also by magical portals and teleportation spells, shrinking the vast world into a tightly interconnected community.

The Equestrian World Grand Council, led by Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, now faces new challenges and opportunities. Issues such as magical cyber-security, ethical use of technology in magic, and the regulation of AI and enchanted devices are regular topics of discussion. The Council works tirelessly to maintain balance and harmony in a world where ancient magic meets modern innovation.

In the 21st century, Equestria is a testament to the harmonious blend of past and future, tradition and progress, magic and technology. It's a world that continuously evolves, pushing the boundaries of what it means to live in a realm where every day is an adventure and every night a dream woven from the threads of the old and the new.

"... But then, you have me... Hi, my name is Sherman, Sherman Drake, but the few friends I had called me Spike... although that was a long time ago... uhm... I am 22 years old, and I am a student at Canterlot State University, although most of the time, people don't even realize I am there, or they willfully ignore my existence... I stand 5'6", I am chubby, but because of my height, I look fatter, I have long unkempt green hair, and green eyes, and yes, I consider myself a nerd... unlike what I said before, I was born without magic... and without any skill... you can imagine how this world was for me...

In Equestria, being born without magic or skills is unheard of, it's like... being a blank slate in a world painted with vibrant colors. They call it 'Void Body Syndrome', a rare anomaly, or that's what the doctors said. I'm the only case they've known. Growing up, I always felt like an outsider, watching through a window as everyone else lived in a different, more magical world.

My childhood was a lonely one. Kids at school would show off their new skills, their magical abilities, and there I was, just... Sherman. The magic classes were the worst – while others summoned flames or talked to animals, I sat in the corner, pretending to be invisible. It wasn't just the students; even the teachers didn't know what to do with me. I was an anomaly, a curiosity at best, and a nuisance at worst.

Bullying was a part of my daily life. 'Void Boy', 'Blank Slate', 'Magicless' – these were the names I was called. I remember hiding in the library during recess, burying myself in books about far-off lands and heroic tales. It was my escape, a place where being different was a strength, not a weakness.

The disdain wasn't just from the children. In a society where your worth is often measured by your magical prowess or the skills you possess, being void of both meant I was invisible to most. People looked through me, not at me. I was the odd one out in a world where fitting in is everything.

My grandmother was the only one who saw me for who I am. She raised me after my parents, who I never knew, left me on her doorstep. She was kind, loving, and saw past my lack of magic and skills. But she passed away recently, leaving me truly alone in this world.

Now, at university, not much has changed. I'm studying history – a subject that doesn't require magic or skills. But even here, I'm the odd one out. My classmates are busy planning their next adventures or practicing their skills, while I'm just trying to make it through another day.

I often wonder what my place in this world is. A world where magic and skills define your identity, and I have neither. I'm just Sherman, the boy with the Void Body Syndrome, trying to find where I belong in a world that seems to have no place for me..."

"When I was old enough, I wanted to help my grandmother with the expenses of the house, but getting a job was tougher than I thought. You see, in Equestria, most jobs, especially the well-paying ones, are linked to guilds. But I couldn't get a job at any of the guilds. I mean, it's obvious why, but the rejection was more brutal than I anticipated. Some guilds outright chased me out, their members taunting me, throwing things at me, forcing me to leave. It wasn't just a 'no'; it was a 'you don't belong here.'

The only place that actually gave me a job was a local McDonald's. But even there, it's not like I'm part of the team. I work the graveyard shift, when the place is nearly empty, and all I do is clean – scrubbing toilets, mopping floors, taking out the garbage. I understand and respect the importance of these jobs. Cleaners and garbage collectors are the unsung heroes of our society, keeping everything running smoothly. But sometimes, I feel like I'm on the outside looking in, not really part of the society that I'm helping to maintain.

My manager barely acknowledges my existence unless it's to reprimand me, and my coworkers... well, they don't talk to me unless it's to bark an order or hurl an insult. There have been times when they've thrown my food in the garbage and forced me to fish it out if I wanted to eat. It's humiliating, degrading, and it just reinforces how different I am.

I often find myself wondering, why me? Why was I born this way in a world where magic and skills are everything? It feels like a cruel joke, a cosmic error. Every day is a reminder of what I lack, of what I'll never be. I've watched adventurers and mages walk into McDonald's, laughing and sharing stories of their exploits, glowing with magic and confidence. And there I am, in the background, invisible, cleaning up after them.

It's not just the physical labor or the isolation that weighs on me; it's the constant reminder that I'm an anomaly in this magical world. I'm the guy with no magic, no skills, no place where I truly fit in. It's a lonely existence, one that's only been amplified since my grandmother passed. She was my anchor, my one source of unconditional love and acceptance in a world that's consistently rejected me.

Despite all this, I try to keep going, to find some semblance of normalcy and purpose in my life. Maybe there's a reason I'm like this, a purpose I've yet to discover. Or maybe not. Maybe this is just my lot in life, and I have to learn to accept it. But deep down, I can't help but hope for something more, something that makes all this struggle worth it. I don't know what that 'more' is, or if I'll ever find it, but it's that sliver of hope that keeps me going, day after day, in a world where I don't seem to belong..."

The abrupt end to Sherman's introspective monologue came in the form of a barrel of water, hurled viciously, striking him squarely in the gut. The impact sent a shockwave of pain through his body, and the water mixed with cleaning solution splashed all over the floor and drenched him. "HEY! VOID BOY, WE DON'T PAY YOUR STUPID ASS TO STAND THERE DAYDREAMING, GET TO WORK!" Cass, one of Sherman's coworkers, bellowed, inciting laughter from the others around.

Reeling from the surprise attack, Sherman tried to regain his composure. "You don't pay me, Cass, the owner does, so don't worry, I won't be taking your strip club money from you," he retorted, reaching for the mop to clean up the new mess. His attempt at a comeback, however, only fueled Cass's anger.

Cass stormed over, spun Sherman around with a violent jerk, and snarled, "Don't you dare ever talk back to me!" He then delivered a vicious punch to Sherman's gut. The blow knocked the wind out of Sherman, sending him crumpling to the floor, gasping for air. Cass, fueled by a mix of fury and contempt, continued his assault, kicking Sherman mercilessly. Each blow was a punctuation of hatred and disdain, and blood soon began to mingle with the water and cleaning fluid on the floor.

"STOP RIGHT THERE!" a booming voice commanded. A police officer had entered the scene, but his presence was far from a relief. "It's okay, this guy is literally trash!" Cass jeered with a laugh, expecting the officer to join in his mockery.

To Sherman's dismay, the officer's sense of justice was tainted by the same prejudice that pervaded Equestrian society. "That's still assault," the officer remarked casually, his tone devoid of any real concern. "Don't soil your hands on the likes of him. You're a B-rank adventurer. We wouldn't want you to damage your hands on some wasted space," he added with a smirk, clearly amused by the situation.

Cass laughed heartily, his behavior validated by the officer's callous words. The scene was a stark illustration of Sherman's place in this world – an existence so undervalued that even his assault was treated as a non-issue, a mere inconvenience to the assailant.

Sherman lay on the floor, a mix of pain and humiliation coursing through him. The laughter and mocking words echoed in his ears, each syllable a reminder of his powerlessness. Around him, the world continued unabated, his plight nothing more than a momentary diversion in the lives of others.

In that moment, lying battered and bruised on the cold floor, Sherman's isolation from the world around him was complete. He was a pariah in a society that celebrated power and magic, a society that had no place for someone like him. The injustice of it all, the sheer unfairness, was overwhelming. Yet, even in his pain and despair, a flicker of defiance remained within him – a refusal to accept this as his only reality, a stubborn spark that refused to be extinguished by the cruelty of others.

The rest of the shift for Sherman passed in a blur of mundane cruelty; an insult here, a deliberate trip there, a shove, a slap at the back of his head from time to time. It was the usual, the expected even, in his daily routine. When the clock finally struck 7 AM, signaling the end of his graveyard shift, Sherman couldn't have been more relieved. Time to go, time to escape, even if just for a little while.

As Sherman trudged out of McDonald's, he reflected on the events of the previous night. It was a rather typical shift, unfortunately. Assaults like the one from Cass were all too common, and no one ever seemed to get in trouble for it. In this world, where your value is measured by the magic you wield or the skills you possess, Sherman was at the bottom of the ladder, an easy target for those looking to assert their superiority.

It's no surprise then that Sherman found his solace in the realms of comic books and video games, worlds where he could be anything but himself. "The Sims 4" was his particular refuge, a game in which he had invested more than 10,000 hours. He had unlocked every achievement, a testament to the countless hours he spent immersed in a world where he had control, where he could create and shape lives different from his own. The "Wicked Whims" mod was his favorite aspect of the game, we all know why, so I am not going to expand on it… but I know you like it too… you can’t lie to me!

Sherman was under no illusions about himself. He knew he didn't have much to offer in a world like Equestria. His grades throughout school were average at best. His looks? Less than average. Athletic ability? Almost non-existent. Sure, he could play the guitar somewhat, pluck a few tunes on the piano, and even sing, although he joked that his singing could shatter glass within a six-mile radius.

These were small consolations, minor talents that did little to lift him from his position of obscurity. In a world that celebrated the extraordinary, being ordinary – or in his case, less than ordinary – was a curse.

But in the digital world of his games, none of that mattered. He could build, create, and live vicariously through his Sims. It was a temporary escape, a brief respite from the harsh realities of his life. In those precious hours between the end of his shift and the time he had to face the world again, Sherman could forget. He could forget the insults, the pain, the loneliness. He could lose himself in a world where magic wasn't necessary, where he could be anyone and do anything.

As Sherman walked home in the early morning light, his mind already wandered to his virtual world. He longed for the comforting glow of his computer screen, the familiar click of the mouse, and the sounds of a world where he was in control. It was a small comfort, but for Sherman, it was everything.

As Sherman walked, his thoughts were a monologue, a stream of consciousness flowing through the weariness of his existence. "It's always the same," he mused, "the same cycle of ridicule and isolation. But in a few hours, in my virtual world, I can be the hero, the architect of my own destiny. If only..." His thoughts trailed off into the hum of the waking city around him.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice the young girl at the intersection ahead, stepping off the curb. It was an ordinary moment, one he had seen countless times before. But then, the sound of an engine roaring at full speed broke through his reverie. He looked up and saw a car barreling down the street, the driver oblivious to the pedestrian crossing.

Time seemed to slow down for Sherman. In that moment, the world around him faded, and all he could see was the imminent danger about to befall the young girl. Instinctively, without a thought for his own safety, Sherman dashed forward. His overweight body and short legs were ill-suited for such a burst of speed, but adrenaline lent him a strength and swiftness he had never known.

As he reached the girl, Sherman's only thought was to save her. With a desperate shove, he pushed her out of the car's path. The girl stumbled to safety, her wide eyes filled with shock and fear.

But for Sherman, there was no time to feel relief. The world turned into a blur of motion and sound. He heard the screech of tires, a horn blaring, and then, a searing pain. His world went dark.

In that brief, fleeting moment before unconsciousness took him, Sherman felt something he had never experienced before – a sense of purpose, a fleeting taste of being a hero, not in a virtual world, but in the real, unforgiving world of Equestria. It was a strange, bittersweet realization that came crashing down on him just as swiftly as the car that sent him spiraling into darkness.

And then, nothing. The noise, the pain, the world itself, all faded away into a silent, deep black void.

Surrounded by an all-encompassing void, Sherman found himself in a realm of neither light nor sound, a place that felt detached from time and space. It was an emptiness so profound that it seemed to absorb every sensation, leaving him in a state of surreal isolation. Then, a voice pierced through the stillness, a resonant tone that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

"Sherman," it called, repeating his name like a mantra, echoing in the vast emptiness until he finally opened his eyes, only to be met with a blinding light.

"Where am I... am I dead?!" Sherman stammered, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and awe.

"You are in Limbo, my son," the voice replied, its tone both gentle and omnipotent.

"And you are?" Sherman asked, his mind racing to make sense of the situation.

"I go by many names – God, Buddha, Allah – use whichever you prefer," the voice answered, calm and reassuring.

Sherman, still grappling with disbelief and wonder, listened as the voice began to explain his situation. "You are in a state of limbo, a coma. Your act of bravery saved a life but left you teetering on the edge of this world and the next."

"The aftermath of your sacrifice was chaotic. The driver, intoxicated beyond sense, was arrested after he struck you and crashed his car. The girl you saved was unharmed but, regrettably, she did not stay to help or bear witness to your heroism."

Sherman absorbed this information, a mix of emotions swirling within him – relief, sadness, a sense of injustice. The voice continued, "You are being given a choice, Sherman. You can return to life."

"But I don't want to go back," Sherman interjected, his voice laced with a weary resignation. "Back to what? A life where I'm invisible, where every day is a struggle, where my existence is a burden to others and myself?"

The voice, patient and timeless, responded, "Your life, though filled with hardship, is precious. You have touched lives, more than you realize. Your act of selflessness is a testament to the strength and goodness within you. Life is a tapestry of experiences, both joyful and painful. It shapes us, teaches us, and sometimes, it gives us a chance to become more than we ever thought possible."

Sherman felt a stirring in his heart, a flicker of something he couldn't quite name. It was a feeling foreign yet familiar, like a distant memory trying to surface. "But why me? Why give me this choice?" he asked.

"Because you have a purpose, Sherman. Every life has its path, its unique journey. Yours is a story yet to be fully written, with pages filled with potential, waiting to be discovered."

In the ethereal expanse of Limbo, Sherman, still reeling from the revelation of being in a coma, turned to the omnipresent voice. "What is my purpose, then?" he asked, skepticism lacing his words.

"The world around you is on the brink of dark days, Sherman," the voice replied, grave yet soothing. "A storm is brewing, one that threatens the very fabric of Equestria. You, Sherman, are the only one who can alter this course of history."

Sherman scoffed, unable to contain his disbelief. "That's bullsh..." he began, but was abruptly cut off as a sudden zap of electricity struck him square in the forehead. The sensation was startling, but not painful, more like a sudden jolt of awareness.

"I have granted you the means necessary for your success," God stated.

Sherman touched his forehead, feeling nothing out of the ordinary. "I don't feel any different," he replied, puzzled.

"Think of the video game you cherish, The Sims," God explained. "There's a mod you particularly enjoy – MCCC. I have granted you something akin to it."

It took a moment for the information to sink in, but when it did, Sherman was overwhelmed. "You mean... I can alter reality? Like playing God?" His voice was a mix of excitement and disbelief.

"Exactly. You have been given a 'skill' that allows you to influence the world around you, much like you do in your game. This power is yours because you are the only person who truly deserves it, the only one worthy of such responsibility," God affirmed.

Sherman's mind raced with the possibilities, the sheer scope of what he could do was staggering. But then a thought struck him. "Does this power have limitations?"

"There are always limitations," God replied, a hint of amusement in His voice. "But where would the fun be in knowing them all upfront? Don't worry, I'll contact you if there's an issue with the skill."

Before Sherman could process everything fully or ask more questions, the world around him faded to darkness once more. He was left in a state of awe and apprehension, the weight of his new responsibility settling on his shoulders. A power like this was unprecedented, unimaginable. He was no longer just Sherman, the invisible, magicless outcast. He was now Sherman, the one with the power to change the world. The implications were enormous, and as he drifted in the void of Limbo, he pondered the path that lay ahead of him.

Sherman was jolted awake by the incessant beeping of a heart monitor, its rhythmical sound piercing the silence of the hospital room. Disoriented, he tried to piece together his surroundings, the sterile smell of the hospital mingling with the lingering images of his encounter in Limbo.

"You're finally awake!" a doctor exclaimed, snapping Sherman out of his daze. The doctor, clad in a white coat, was jotting down notes on his clipboard. "I'm amazed. For such a bad accident, your only severe injury is a broken leg, which has already healed... in just 2 days."

Sherman listened, bewildered. The words didn't make sense. A broken leg, healed in two days? It was impossible, yet here he was, feeling no pain, no hint of an injury. His mind flashed back to the electric zap in Limbo, to the conversation with God. Could it be related?

Before he could ponder further, the door to his room swung open with a sense of urgency. A man dressed in an expensive suit, exuding authority and impatience, strode in. "Is he awake?" he asked briskly, barely glancing at Sherman.

The doctor began to respond, but the man cut him off. "Alright, give him his stuff and send him out." His tone was dismissive, as if Sherman's life was a mere inconvenience.

"That's not proper protocol!" the doctor protested, clearly taken aback by the man's callousness.

"My hospital, my rules," the man, who Sherman deduced was the chairman of the hospital, retorted sharply. "And we have far more... important people coming in. You've done your good act of the day; we're done here." With that, he turned on his heel and left the room.

The doctor turned back to Sherman, a look of apology in his eyes. But Sherman, still processing everything, surprised him with a smile. "Where do I sign to leave?"

He didn't feel like arguing or staying a minute longer than necessary. The encounter in Limbo, the miraculous healing, the newfound power – it all swirled in his mind, a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions. But one thing was clear: he couldn't stay here, not when a new path was unfolding before him.

As the doctor went to get the discharge papers, Sherman sat up, testing his leg. It felt strong, normal. He pondered the gravity of what had transpired, the weight of the responsibility he now carried. With this mysterious power, what could he do? What should he do?

The future was uncertain, but for the first time in his life, Sherman felt a sense of purpose, a spark of excitement about the possibilities that lay ahead. He was no longer just the invisible Sherman Drake; he was someone with the potential to change the world. And as he prepared to step out of the hospital, into the unknown, he knew one thing for sure – his life would never be the same again.
> G.U.C.C. Ch. 2 "Ghost in a machine" (Mastering the Console Command)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sherman trudged back to his apartment, his mind still swirling with the events of the past few days. The streets of Equestria, usually vibrant and bustling, seemed duller to him now, or perhaps it was just his perspective that had changed. When he arrived at his building, a dilapidated structure that had seen better days, a sinking feeling in his stomach grew more pronounced.

His mailbox was stuffed with past-due notices, a stark reminder of the reality he had momentarily escaped. He sighed, collecting the envelopes before heading to his apartment. Taped to his door was a final notice from his landlord, the words "Pay up or leave!" scrawled in angry, bold letters. Two months behind on rent – how had things gotten this bad?

"Perfect," Sherman muttered sarcastically as he unlocked the door. His apartment was a small, run-down space, cluttered with books, gaming paraphernalia, and old takeout boxes. He dropped the stack of bills on his cluttered desk and sat down, the chair creaking under his weight.

He began to sift through the mail, each envelope a reminder of his precarious financial situation. "Electricity... overdue. Water... overdue. And the grand finale, rent... severely overdue," he narrated to himself, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and resignation. "Could this day get any worse?"

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes wandering to his computer, the machine that housed his virtual escape. A thought struck him – the power he had been granted, could it help in this situation? He remembered what God had told him in Limbo, the comparison to the MCCC mod in The Sims. If he truly had the ability to alter reality, could he fix this mess?

Sherman's heart raced at the possibilities. This power, this incredible gift, could it be the answer to his problems? But doubt crept in. Was it right to use such power for personal gain? And what were the limitations God had mentioned?

Torn between excitement and uncertainty, Sherman knew he had to make a decision. The past-due bills on his desk were a ticking time bomb, a looming threat to the roof over his head. He needed to act, and fast.

With a deep breath, Sherman made up his mind. He would test his newfound ability, but carefully, cautiously. He couldn't afford to be reckless, not with stakes this high. It was time to see if he could truly change his fate, to step out of the shadows and into a new realm of possibilities.

As he turned on his computer, the familiar hum of the machine grounding him, Sherman felt a surge of determination. He was no longer just a bystander in his own life. He was about to take control, to shape his destiny with the mysterious power he had been given. The journey ahead was uncertain, but for the first time, Sherman felt a flicker of hope, a sense that maybe, just maybe, he could turn things around.

Sherman booted up The Sims 4, a game that had always been his refuge from reality. His fingers worked deftly as he navigated to his avatar, a character he hadn't played in a while but one that mirrored his own aspirations and dreams. Eagerly, he accessed the MCCC mod, a feature that allowed him to manipulate the game in ways that defied its original design. His heart pounded with a mix of excitement and apprehension as he selected the money cheat option and typed in "999999999." Instantly, his in-game bank account swelled with virtual wealth. But as he looked around his dingy apartment, nothing had changed.

Confused and growing increasingly anxious, Sherman grabbed his phone to check his real bank account. The glaring red numbers confirmed his fear; he was still drowning in debt. In a last-ditch attempt to test his supposed powers, he used the MCCC mod again to grant his avatar level 10 cooking skills. In the game, his character transformed into a master chef, effortlessly whipping up gourmet dishes. Inspired, Sherman headed to his tiny, cluttered kitchen to boil water, only to burn it, filling the room with an acrid smell.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Maybe the entire encounter in Limbo, the meeting with God, the miraculous healing, and the supposed powers were nothing but a dream, a product of his concussion. It made sense. The human mind was capable of creating vivid, lifelike dreams, especially under stress and trauma.

Feeling utterly defeated and foolish for believing even for a moment that he could have been anything more than ordinary Sherman Drake, he turned off his computer and headed to bed. The mattress creaked under his weight, a familiar and yet now a more poignant reminder of his unremarkable life.

Lying in the dark, staring at the ceiling, Sherman felt a profound sense of despair. The brief flicker of hope he had experienced, the excitement of potentially having the power to change his life, had vanished, leaving him feeling more powerless and insignificant than ever. The world outside continued its ceaseless hum, indifferent to his plight.

As sleep finally began to claim him, Sherman's last conscious thought was a wish, a silent plea to the universe – for something, anything, to break the relentless cycle of disappointment and insignificance that defined his existence. Unbeknownst to him, the adventure he longed for was just beginning, and his journey was far from over.

In the depths of his restless slumber, Sherman's senses were once again stirred by the familiar calling of his name. Opening his eyes, he found himself enveloped in the same boundless void he had experienced in the hospital. The sensation of floating in an endless expanse of nothingness was both unsettling and strangely calming.

"It seems you forgot to ask me how to activate the skill," God's voice resonated through the void, a gentle chiding in its tone.

Sherman, still grappling with the surreal nature of this encounter, couldn't help but scoff. "It seems you dislike me," God observed, a hint of curiosity in His voice.

"I don't dislike you. I believe you exist... it's just... my life has been nothing but hardship since day one, and I don't understand why," Sherman replied, his voice a mix of frustration and resignation.

"Well, I always give the hardest trials to those who can handle them, and you have succeeded," God responded, an encouraging note in His voice. "Now, let me explain how to activate your skill. Just imagine a similar console command appearing before you. Once you do that, you can use your fingers – or preferably your mind – to control it. It's quite simple."

Before Sherman could process this information fully or ask any further questions, God's presence began to fade. "Anyway, good luck," were the last words that echoed in the void.

"Wait!" Sherman called out, desperate for more answers. "You still haven't told me the limits of this power!" But it was too late; he was alone in the void once more, God's presence gone, leaving Sherman with more questions than answers.

As the void slowly dissolved, and Sherman drifted back into consciousness, he lay in his bed, staring into the darkness of his room. The revelation from God weighed heavily on his mind. The power to alter reality through a mental console command – it was an ability beyond imagination, beyond the realm of what he had thought possible.

He needed to test it, to see if it was real. He imagined the console command appearing before him, visualizing it as clearly as he could, just as he would in The Sims game. Slowly, a translucent screen materialized in front of him, hovering in the air. His heart raced with excitement

and disbelief. With a tentative thought, he tried to interact with the console, half-expecting nothing to happen. But to his amazement, the console responded, awaiting his input.

The realization that this was real, that he had been granted a power so extraordinary, sent a rush of adrenaline through him. He thought about the past-due bills, the looming threat of eviction. With a focused mind, Sherman envisioned a command in the console to alter his bank account balance.

He held his breath, then checked his phone. The numbers had changed. Where red figures of debt once loomed, now showed a comfortable positive balance. In disbelief, Sherman refreshed the screen multiple times, but the numbers remained. It was real. He had changed his reality.

The implications were staggering. With this power, Sherman could alter not just his financial situation but potentially any aspect of his life, maybe even the world. But with this realization came a wave of responsibility. The words of God echoed in his mind, reminding him of the trials and the trust placed upon him.

Sherman lay back in bed, his mind racing with possibilities and fears. He knew he had to be careful; such power could easily be abused. And what were the limits God had refused to reveal? He understood that every action he took with this power could have consequences, some perhaps beyond his understanding.

As dawn began to break, casting a soft light into his humble room, Sherman knew that his life had changed forever. He was no longer just an invisible, downtrodden individual in a world that overlooked him. He was now Sherman Drake, bearer of a mysterious and divine power, standing at the threshold of a new existence, filled with potential and unknown challenges.

With this newfound ability, Sherman had the opportunity to reshape his destiny and possibly the destiny of others. But he also bore the weight of responsibility and the fear of the unknown. The journey ahead was uncertain, but for the first time in his life, Sherman felt a sense of purpose and a glimmer of hope. The world was waiting, and so was he.

Sherman, still in disbelief and excitement, was about to delve into the console command with reckless abandon when a message from God appeared, suggesting a more cautious approach. "Before you start, I suggest you go to your shower, turn on the water and then use the skill. You'll see why," the message advised.

Puzzled but willing to follow these divine instructions, Sherman made his way to the bathroom. He turned on the shower, the sound of water cascading creating a soothing background noise. With a deep breath, he reopened the console command, this time noticing that it was divided into five categories: "Skills," "Body," "Life Cheats," "Relationships," and "Message Board."

Driven by curiosity, he navigated to the "Skills" section, which further branched into "Everyday Skills," "Adventurer Skills," and "Special Skills," although the last category was locked. He clicked on "Everyday Skills" and a comprehensive list of every conceivable daily skill appeared before him.

Just as he was about to experiment with individual skills, another message popped up, offering to maximize all Everyday Skills. Without hesitation, Sherman pressed the "Yes" button, eager to empower himself in ways he had never dreamed possible.

But what followed was not what he expected. An overwhelming sensation flooded his brain, an onslaught of information, skills, and knowledge bombarding his consciousness. It was as if every book he had ever read, every documentary he had ever seen, and every lesson he had ever learned were being downloaded directly into his mind at an impossible speed.

The intensity of the experience manifested as the most excruciating headache he had ever endured. Sherman cried out in agony, collapsing to the bathroom floor, the shower still running in the background. He clutched his head, tears streaming down his face, as his brain struggled to assimilate this sudden influx of information.

After what felt like an eternity but was only five minutes, the voice announced, "Completed." The pain subsided as quickly as it had come, leaving Sherman gasping for air on the cold tile floor. He slowly sat up, his head now clear, and realized something astonishing – he felt different, more knowledgeable, more capable. It was as if a fog had lifted from his mind, revealing a world of clarity and understanding he had never known.

As he slowly stood up, turning off the shower that he had completely forgotten

about, Sherman tested his newfound knowledge. He thought about cooking, and suddenly, he knew recipes and techniques he had never learned before. He pondered mathematics, and complex equations and theories unraveled in his mind with ease. Every skill that one might encounter in daily life, from carpentry to writing, from first aid to technology, was now at his fingertips.

The realization of what he had just experienced was overwhelming. He had gained a wealth of knowledge and skills in mere minutes, something that would take multiple lifetimes to achieve under normal circumstances. The potential of this power was immense, but so were the implications and responsibilities that came with it.

Sherman stood in the middle of his bathroom, dripping wet, a mix of elation and apprehension coursing through him. This was just the beginning, the first step into a world where he was no longer bound by the limitations of his birth. He had the ability to change not only his life but perhaps the lives of others as well.

But he also remembered the pain, the unbearable headache that came with his reckless use of the power. It was a stark reminder that this gift was not to be taken lightly. He needed to be cautious, thoughtful in how he used this

extraordinary ability. The consequences of overreaching or misuse could be severe, as he had just painfully learned.

As he dried off and dressed, Sherman's mind raced with possibilities. He pondered over the other categories in the console command – "Adventurer Skills," "Body," "Life Cheats," "Relationships" – each holding untold potential. He was curious about the locked "Special Skills" category too. What abilities did it contain? And why was it restricted?

He realized that this power, while incredible, came with a learning curve. He would have to experiment, understand its nuances, and discover its limitations – the latter of which God had mysteriously refrained from revealing.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Sherman felt like a different person. He was no longer just a downtrodden, invisible individual in a magical world. He was someone with the power to shape his reality, to learn and grow in ways he had never imagined.

As he sat down at his desk, glancing at the once daunting pile of bills, a sense of confidence began to build within him. He had a tool, a powerful one, and he was determined to use it wisely. The path ahead was uncharted, filled with potential and peril, but Sherman Drake was ready to embark on this journey, to discover not just the extent of his newfound powers, but also the extent of who he could become.

As Sherman sifted through the heap of bills, a sense of urgency took hold. The total was staggering - $12,376, a sum that had accumulated from various sources, each bill a reminder of his financial struggles. And this didn't even include his overdue rent. It was daunting, to say the least.

With a newfound sense of purpose, Sherman turned to the console command, his heart racing with anticipation and a hint of apprehension. He navigated to the "Life Cheats" section, his eyes scanning for the money hack. There it was, under "Funds." He clicked on it, and a prompt appeared, asking him to "Insert funds required." He hesitated for a moment, the gravity of what he was about to do dawning on him. Then, with a deep breath, he typed in $15,000 and hit enter.

Instantly, bundles of cash began to materialize, falling onto his desk and lap in a surreal display of financial magic. Sherman sat, dumbfounded, as the last bill settled on the pile. He had just conjured $15,000 out of thin air.

The clock showed 6 AM; the world outside was just beginning to stir awake. Banks and debt collection offices would soon open their doors. Sherman, now equipped with the means to clear his debts, felt a surge of empowerment. He got dressed quickly, his movements fueled by a mix of excitement and a newfound sense of control over his life.

As he prepared to leave, Sherman couldn't help but reflect on the surreal turn his life had taken. Just days ago, he was drowning in debt, invisible to the world, a nobody. Now, he held a power that could not only erase his financial woes but potentially change every aspect of his existence.

He knew he had to be cautious. The power he wielded was immense and, if mishandled, could lead to unforeseen consequences. Sherman resolved to use his ability responsibly, to better his life without causing harm or disruption to the natural order of things.

Stepping out of his apartment, Sherman felt a weight lift off his shoulders. The burden of financial stress, which had long been a dark cloud over his life, was finally being lifted. He was no longer a victim of his circumstances but an active player in shaping his destiny.

As he made his way to the banks and offices to settle his debts, Sherman couldn't help but feel a sense of optimism about the future. With his new powers, the possibilities were endless. He could learn, grow, and perhaps even make a positive impact on the world around him.

For the first time in a long time, Sherman Drake looked forward to what the future held, ready to embrace the opportunities and challenges that lay ahead. The world was his to explore, and he was eager to see where this extraordinary journey would take him.

As Sherman approached the grand facade of the Royal Bank of Canterlot, memories of past humiliations at the hands of the staff there flooded his mind. He braced himself for the disdainful looks and condescending remarks that had always greeted him. However, just before he stepped through the imposing front doors, the console command materialized before him. A message popped up: "Would you like to increase your confidence level from 3 to 10?" Without hesitation, Sherman thought, "Yes."

In an instant, he felt an electric surge course through him, straightening his posture and lifting his chin. His usual slouched, defeated demeanor was replaced by a newfound sense of confidence and purpose. "Showtime," he muttered to himself, a determined glint in his eye.

Inside the bank, the manager, a portly man in his fifties with a well-groomed mustache and a posh English accent, was regaling the bank tellers with exaggerated tales of his children's adventures. His stories were abruptly cut short as he noticed Sherman entering. "Ugh, what does this pauper want now?" he scoffed, striding towards Sherman with a look of annoyance. "Mr. Drake, I believe I told you not to return here until..."

"Until I had the money to make payments, which I now have," Sherman interjected firmly, meeting the manager's gaze with unwavering confidence. "So, when do we start?"

The bank manager was visibly taken aback. He had closed Sherman's account with disdain, considering him a blight on the bank's esteemed reputation. But here was Sherman, standing tall and assertive, a stark contrast to the meek figure he remembered.

"Well, Mr. Drake," the manager stammered, trying to regain his composure, "if you indeed have the funds, we can proceed to reopen your account and address your debts. However, I must say, I am rather surprised..."

Sherman cut him off, "Surprised? Why, because

someone like me managed to pull themselves out of financial trouble? Because I'm not the downtrodden, easy target you're used to belittling?"

The manager's face flushed a shade of red, caught off guard by Sherman's newfound assertiveness. "I... well, that is not what I meant, Mr. Drake. We at the Royal Bank of Canterlot treat all our clients with respect and..."

"Respect?" Sherman raised an eyebrow, a wry smile playing on his lips. "The last time I was here, I was escorted out like a criminal, humiliated in front of everyone. Where was the respect then?"

The bank manager fumbled for words, his usual composure crumbling under Sherman's steady gaze. "That was a... misunderstanding, Mr. Drake. Please, let's move past that. If you have the funds, we can proceed right away."

Sherman nodded, "Very well. Let's get this over with." He followed the manager to his office, his steps confident, a stark contrast to the timid, hesitant gait that had characterized his previous visits.

As they walked, whispers and curious glances followed them, the bank staff and patrons alike noticing the change in Sherman. The man who had once been the butt of jokes and dismissive sneers was now commanding attention and respect, albeit grudgingly, from those around him.

In the manager's office, Sherman produced the wads of cash, carefully counted and stacked. The manager's eyes widened in disbelief, not just at the sight of the money, but at the transformation of the man before him. Sherman Drake, once an object of pity and scorn, was now a figure of confidence and resolve.

As the manager processed the payments and updated Sherman's account, Sherman leaned back in his chair, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. This was just the beginning. He had taken his first step in reshaping his life, and there was no turning back now. He was ready to teach this man, and the world, a lesson: never underestimate the power of

change and the strength of the human spirit. Today, he had started to reclaim his dignity and rewrite his story. Today, Sherman Drake was no longer just a passive bystander in his own life; he was the author of his destiny, ready to turn the page to a new chapter.

As the bank manager begrudgingly processed the reopening of Sherman's account and the allocation of the new funds, the atmosphere in the office was tense. "Well, Mr. Drake, all debts have been cleared," the manager finally announced with a forced smile.

"Excellent," Sherman replied, his tone steady and assertive. Sensing an opportunity to potentially salvage the bank's relationship with Sherman, the manager started, "If you are interested, we can modify your account to..."

But Sherman swiftly cut him off. "No thank you. As of this moment, I'd like to close my account with this bank for good." His words were calm but resolute, leaving no room for negotiation.

The bank manager was visibly taken aback. While this was the outcome he had initially desired, the situation had changed. Now, he had to maintain the façade of wanting to retain Sherman as a customer. But before he could articulate a response, Sherman, armed with his newfound intelligence and knowledge of the law, interjected.

"Canterlot Economic Law, Article 14, Paragraph 4, Section C, Passage 4," Sherman recited flawlessly, "states that 'No financial institution can close, cancel, or freeze an account from any customer, dead or alive, without the consent of the holder or a family member. Whoever does so has incurred in Financial Fraud.' You and the bank will be hearing from my lawyers."

The manager stood up hastily, following Sherman as he made his way out of the office. "Mr. Drake, please, let's discuss this. There's no need to involve lawyers," he pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation.

Sherman, however, was unmoved. He walked through the bank with a newfound dignity, ignoring the manager's pleas. As he exited the building, the manager's calls faded into the background, drowned out by Sherman's thoughts of the future.

Sherman stepped onto the bustling streets of Canterlot, a sense of freedom washing over him. He had not

only cleared his debts but had also stood up for himself against an institution that had once belittled him. The power he had been granted had changed the course of his life in more ways than one. It was not just about the ability to manipulate reality; it was also about the transformation within himself – the confidence, the knowledge, and the understanding of his own worth.

As he walked away from the bank, Sherman couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph. He had faced one of his greatest fears and emerged victorious. This experience was a testament to his growth and the potential of the powers bestowed upon him.

He knew that this was just the beginning. There were many more challenges and opportunities ahead, and with his newfound abilities, he was ready to face them head-on. Sherman Drake, once a forgotten individual in a world of magic and power, was now a man with the capability to shape his destiny and stand tall in a world that had once seemed so overwhelming.

The city of Canterlot sprawled before him, teeming with life and possibilities. As Sherman melded into the crowd, he did so not as an invisible observer but as a participant in the grand tapestry of life, ready to weave his own story of resilience, courage, and change.

Later that day, after settling all his outstanding bills, Sherman found himself contemplating the one remaining debt – his rent. An idea sparked in his mind, a plan that could potentially turn his situation around completely. Excited by the prospect, he rushed home to practice using the console, particularly to refine the way he generated money. He wanted it to appear more naturally, rather than raining down from above in a chaotic fashion.

After hours of trial and error, Sherman finally mastered the technique. The money now materialized in a more controlled and discreet manner. In the process, however, he had inadvertently summoned nearly half a million

dollars into his room. The stacks of cash sitting in his small apartment were a surreal sight. Sherman knew he had to hide it quickly, but more importantly, he was ready to set his plan into motion.

Picking up his phone, he dialed his landlord's number. It had been months since they last spoke, and Sherman anticipated the call wouldn't start pleasantly. As expected, the landlord answered the call with a barrage of insults and demands for the overdue rent.

"Drake! Where is my money? You think you can just live there for free? I should've kicked you out months ago!" the landlord barked into the phone.

Sherman remained calm, his newfound confidence steadying his voice. "I understand your frustration, and I apologize for the delayed payments. But I have your money, and not just for the overdue rent. I want to discuss business with you. I'll wait for you at my apartment."

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, the landlord's anger giving way to surprise. "Business? What are you talking about? You better not be wasting my time, Drake."

"I assure you, it's a genuine proposal. Please come over, and we can discuss it in person," Sherman replied, maintaining his composed demeanor.

The landlord grumbled a response, his curiosity piqued despite his skepticism. "Fine, I'll be there in an hour. You better have a good explanation for all this."

Sherman hung up the phone, a small smile playing on his lips. He had the landlord's attention, and now it was time to put his plan into action. He began to prepare for the meeting, his mind racing with possibilities.

One hour later:

The landlord stormed into Sherman's apartment with the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, bellowing, "WHERE IS MY MONEY?" Without a word, Sherman coolly slapped a wad of cash into the landlord's outstretched hand, the crisp notes making a satisfying smack.

Stunned into silence, the landlord stared at the money, then at Sherman. Seizing the moment, Sherman gestured to a chair. "Please, have a seat. Like I said, I had your money, and there it is. But I also want to talk business. To be blunt, I want to buy this building."

The

landlord's reaction was immediate and loud. He burst into hysterical laughter, the notion of Sherman buying the building seemingly the funniest thing he had heard in years. "You? Buy this building? Keep dreaming, Drake. You could barely pay your rent, and now you want to play real estate mogul?"

Sherman remained unfazed, meeting the landlord's mocking gaze with a calm, steady one. "It's not a dream. I'm serious. And just so you're aware, I've done my homework. According to the housing laws of Canterlot, particularly the statutes regarding tenant safety and building maintenance, this building has numerous infractions."

The landlord's laughter died abruptly, replaced by a wary look. "What are you talking about?"

Sherman leaned forward, his voice firm. "Missing smoke detectors, faulty wiring, plumbing issues that have been ignored despite multiple complaints. Need I go on? It's a lawsuit waiting to happen."

The landlord's demeanor shifted from amusement to concern. He knew Sherman was right; the building was riddled with issues he had neglected for years, hoping to avoid the cost of repairs.

"Alright, alright. Let's say I'm interested. But the price won't be cheap," the landlord said, a greedy glint in his eye. "I want $100,000 for the building."

Sherman didn't blink. He reached into his pocket and pulled out another stack of cash, counting out $100,000 right there on the spot. The landlord watched, incredulous, as Sherman placed the money on the table between them.

"This should cover the price you're asking," Sherman stated, his confidence unshaken.

The landlord, still in a state of shock, slowly reached out and touched the money, as if to make sure it was real. "You're serious about this," he muttered, more to himself than to Sherman.

"Completely serious," Sherman affirmed. "And I expect all the necessary paperwork to be in order for the transfer of ownership."

As the landlord numbly nodded, a deal was struck that would change the course of both their lives. Sherman Drake, once a struggling tenant at the mercy of his landlord, was now the owner of the very building he had struggled to pay rent for. It was a bold move, one that marked the beginning of a new era in his life.

With the transfer of the building ownership complete and the former landlord hastily leaving with his newfound wealth, Sherman felt a surge of triumph. But he had one more task to complete that day – quitting his job at McDonald's. Today was the perfect opportunity, as the franchise owner was holding a meeting with all the managers, including the detestable Cass.

A few minutes later, Sherman arrived at the restaurant. As expected, Cass started mocking him about the car accident, but a single glare from Sherman silenced him instantly. The newfound confidence and authority Sherman exuded were palpable, leaving Cass momentarily speechless.

Without a word to his soon-to-be-former coworkers, Sherman barged into the main office where the owner and managers were gathered. "Drake! What is the meaning of this!" the owner exclaimed, shocked at the interruption.

"I quit," Sherman declared, his voice steady and resolute.

"Oh... couldn't that have waited until after the meeting?" the owner replied, a mix of annoyance and confusion in his tone.

"I could've, but I didn’t want to. Plus, I needed witnesses for this," Sherman retorted, placing a file on the table in front of the three managers.

"What is this?" the owner asked, eyeing the file suspiciously.

"A lawsuit for six months of unpaid wages," Sherman stated calmly.

The owner jumped up, his face flushing with anger. "I PAY YOUR SALARY! I HAVE THE PAYSTUBS!"

"The lawsuit is against them," Sherman said, pointing at the managers, including Cass. "They never gave me my cheques. They shredded them. And by the way, throwing them in the trash is not a smart idea, considering I was the one who always took it out."

The managers, now pale and panicking, started pleading with Sherman. "Please, Drake, let's talk about this. We can sort it out," one stammered.

But Sherman was unmoved. "You had six months to 'sort it out.' Now it's too late."

He then turned to the owner, his gaze unwavering. "You have until 11:59 PM tonight to give me my unpaid wages. If not, well, you know what comes next."

The owner, taken aback by Sherman's audacity and the potential legal nightmare unfolding before him, nodded reluctantly. "You'll have your money, Drake. But this is unnecessary. We could have resolved this without legal action."

Sherman shook his head. "No, we couldn't. I tried, remember? You chose not to listen. Now, you can deal with the consequences."

With that final statement, Sherman turned and walked out of the office, leaving a room full of stunned faces behind him. The air was thick with tension and unspoken fears about the impending lawsuit.

As he exited the restaurant, Sherman felt a profound sense of liberation. He had not only stood up for himself against his oppressive employer but had also taken a significant step toward asserting his dignity and rights. He had used his newfound power not for revenge, but for justice, rectifying the wrongs he had suffered in silence for too long.

Walking away from the restaurant, Sherman knew that his life would never be the same again. He had shed the shackles of his old life and was stepping into a new era, one where he was no longer a victim of circumstances but a master of his destiny. The future was uncertain, but it was his to shape, and he was ready for whatever challenges and opportunities it might bring.

As the evening set in, Sherman received a notification on his phone, indicating a substantial deposit to his account. To his astonishment, it was the $126,000 of unpaid wages from his former employer. But the surprises didn't end there. Along with the deposit, there was a message stating that the managers had been fired and arrested for embezzlement. A smile crept across Sherman's face; justice had been served.

Amidst his satisfaction, his phone rang with a call from an unknown number. Curious, Sherman answered. "Hello?"

"Good evening, Mr. Drake. This is Jonathan Hargrave, the President of the Royal Bank of Canterlot," came a polite, slightly tense voice from the other end.

Sherman's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Mr. Hargrave, to what do I owe this call?"

"I'll be direct, Mr. Drake. We've reviewed your complaint and the situation with our former branch manager. He has been arrested for fraud and embezzlement, and the tellers you interacted with have been terminated for their misconduct. We deeply regret the treatment you received at our bank," Hargrave explained earnestly.

"That's quite a turnaround," Sherman remarked, a hint of skepticism in his tone.

"Indeed, and we wish to make amends. We are prepared to offer you a settlement to resolve this matter out of court. A sum of $4 million as compensation for the distress and inconvenience caused."

Sherman was momentarily speechless. $4 million was a life-changing amount of money. "I appreciate the offer, Mr. Hargrave. That's a generous settlement," he replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

"We hope it demonstrates our commitment to righting the wrongs of our employees. Furthermore, we would be honored if you would consider giving the Royal Bank of Canterlot another chance. We assure you, you will receive the utmost respect and service henceforth," Hargrave added, his voice carrying a note of sincerity.

Sherman took a moment to think. The bank's swift action and the substantial settlement were more than he had expected. "Alright, Mr. Hargrave. I accept the settlement and will give your bank another chance. But I expect nothing short of the best service."

"You have my word, Mr. Drake. Thank you for this opportunity, and once again, we apologize for any distress we caused," Hargrave said, relief evident in his voice.

As Sherman ended the call, he let out a deep breath. In a single day, he had turned his life around, from a struggling tenant to a building owner, from an underpaid employee to a millionaire. The power he wielded had opened doors he never thought possible, and he had used it to fight for justice, not just for himself, but for others who had suffered similar mistreatment.

Sitting in his apartment, now his building, Sherman realized that his journey was just beginning. With his newfound wealth and abilities, he could make a real difference, not just in his life but in the lives of others. He was no longer bound by the limitations of his past; he was a man with the power to shape his future, and he was ready to embrace whatever came next.

And he knew exactly what he was going to do next…
> G.U.C.C. Ch. 3 "A change before the storm"
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The following morning, Sherman found himself seated in front of the television, absorbing the day's news. The anchor's words echoed through the room, "And in more national news, the Housing and Rent crisis has worsened as rent prices skyrocket to an all-time high. The number of forced displacements due to this issue has doubled, as well as forced homelessness..."

As he listened, Sherman's gaze wandered around his apartment, the sole occupied space in a building that had seen better days. It had always puzzled him why no one else lived here, but the answer was now glaringly obvious. In its current state, the building was hardly a safe or appealing option for anyone, especially with the housing crisis pushing people to the brink.

But as he looked out the window, an idea began to take shape in his mind. Surrounding his building were several vacant lots, unused and overgrown - a wasteland in the midst of the city. These lots represented potential space that could be transformed and utilized. Sherman's thoughts raced with possibilities.

Quickly getting dressed, he felt a surge of purpose fueling his actions. He was no longer just thinking about himself; he had the resources and the power to make a difference in the community. The housing crisis was a complex issue, but perhaps he could contribute to a solution, starting right here with these neglected lots.

Heading towards City Hall, Sherman's mind buzzed with plans and ideas. He needed to find out who owned these plots of land and what it would take to acquire them. His newfound confidence and assertiveness, bolstered by his recent victories, gave him the courage to navigate the bureaucratic maze he was about to enter.

As he walked, Sherman couldn't help but feel excited about this new chapter in his life. Just days ago, he was struggling to make ends meet, invisible to the world around him. Now, he was on the brink of potentially making a significant impact in his community. He had the means, the motivation, and, thanks to his newfound powers, the ability to effect real change.

Reaching City Hall, Sherman stepped inside, ready to embark on this new venture. He was no longer just Sherman Drake, the man with no magic or skills in a world where such things were prized. He was Sherman Drake, the man who dared to dream bigger, to reach further, and to create a better future not just for himself, but for others as well.

Inside the bustling City Hall, Sherman approached the information desk, where a friendly City Hall worker greeted him. "How can I help you today?" she asked with a warm smile.

"I'm interested in finding out about the ownership of some vacant lots near my building," Sherman explained, providing the specific locations.

The worker quickly navigated through the city's property records. "Let's see what we have here," she murmured as she typed. After a few moments, she looked up with a surprised expression. "Well, it turns out four of these five lots aren't owned by anyone. They're essentially public land."

Sherman's eyes widened in surprise and opportunity. "And the fifth lot?" he inquired.

"That one is owned by Frederick Richards," she replied, her tone changing slightly.

Sherman felt a familiar sense of unease at the mention of that name. Frederick Richards, a well-known businessman in town, was infamous for his ruthless business tactics and his status as an A-rank adventurer. He was known to strong-arm small businesses that he perceived as threats to his own interests.

"I see," Sherman said thoughtfully. "Is there any way I can contact Mr. Richards? I'm interested in acquiring that last lot."

The worker hesitated for a moment, then provided him with the contact details for Richards' office. "You can try reaching out to him, but I must warn you, Mr. Richards has a reputation for being... difficult."

Sherman nodded, undeterred. "Thank you for your help," he said, collecting the land titles for the four unowned lots.

As he left City Hall, Sherman's mind raced with the possibilities. He now had the titles to four lots and a plan to acquire the fifth. The challenge of dealing with Frederick Richards loomed large, but Sherman was not the same person he had been just a few days ago. He had resources, confidence, and a powerful skill at his disposal.

He knew that negotiating with Richards would not be easy. The man was not only a shrewd businessman but also an A-rank adventurer, accustomed to getting his way through intimidation and power. But Sherman's resolve was firm. His plan to help alleviate the housing crisis and make a positive impact in his community hinged on acquiring that final lot.

Sherman stood outside the imposing office building of Mr. Frederick Richards, known colloquially as "Filthy Rich" due to his immense wealth and unscrupulous business practices. Rumors abound about how he had amassed his fortune, often at the expense of small business owners and through aggressive, sometimes borderline unethical, tactics.

Before he could step inside, Sherman was greeted by a familiar prompt from the console command. "Increase Businessman Mentality from 2 to 10?" "Increase Business Knowledge from 1 to 10?" the messages read. Without hesitation, Sherman thought, "Yes." A brief, sharp headache followed, but it quickly subsided, leaving him with a newfound sense of acumen and confidence in the realm of business.

As he entered the office, his demeanor had transformed. He now exuded the air of a seasoned businessman, his posture and gaze projecting assurance and authority. Approaching the receptionist, he stated calmly, "I'm here to meet with Mr. Richards regarding a business matter."

The receptionist, initially dismissive, took note of Sherman's confident presence and promptly made a call. "Mr. Richards, there's a gentleman here to see you about a business proposal. Yes, sir, he seems quite serious."

After a brief wait, Sherman was ushered into Richards' lavishly decorated office. The man himself sat behind a large, imposing desk, his demeanor exuding the arrogance and self-importance of someone who was used to being in control.

"Mr. Drake, is it? I don't believe I've heard of you before. What brings you to my office?" Richards asked, his tone condescending.

"Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Richards. I'm interested in a piece of property you own. The vacant lot next to my building," Sherman began, maintaining eye contact.

Richards chuckled dismissively. "And why would I be interested in selling that lot to you? It's a prime piece of real estate, and I have plans for it."

Sherman, undeterred by Richards' demeanor, replied, "I'm prepared to offer a fair price. That lot is the key to a project that could benefit the community, especially given the current housing crisis."

Richards leaned back in his chair, eyeing Sherman skeptically. "Benefit the community? I'm in the business of making money, Mr. Drake, not charity. Unless your offer is significantly above market value, I don't see a reason to sell."

Sherman nodded, expecting this response. "I understand your position, Mr. Richards. However, consider the positive publicity and community goodwill that would come from this.

It's not just about the immediate financial gain. You'd be seen as a benefactor, someone who's part of the solution to the housing crisis. That kind of reputation can open doors that money alone can't."

Richards raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued despite his initial reluctance. "Go on," he said, leaning forward.

"Additionally, I'm prepared to offer a premium on the market value of the land," Sherman continued, playing to Richards' business instincts. "I believe it's a win-win situation. You profit financially, and you also enhance your standing in the community."

Richards pondered for a moment, his expression betraying a hint of intrigue. "I must admit, the idea of being seen as a community hero is appealing. But it'll take more than just a few kind words to convince me. What's your offer?"

Sherman stated his offer, a figure that was generous but reasonable. Richards listened, his gaze never leaving Sherman's face, trying to gauge his sincerity and resolve.

“Mr. Richards, we’re both businessmen, we know that everything in the world has a price, now I just need to know yours,” he said

“Like I said, the land is Prime Real Estate, I want a competitive price for it, the community hero story is nice, but I see it as a… bonus, not something that is really worth it,” Mr. Richards said

“I want numbers Mr. Richards, not a sob story,” Sherman cut him off

Mr. Richards was taken aback for a few seconds, no one had ever talked to him like that and “lived to tell the tale” but when he was about to answer back at Sherman, he was met with his gaze, the eye contact and the serious expression exuded authority, so he decided to let it slide.

“What say you… pay me… $500,000 for the land,” Mr. Richards said

“Over inflating your land for the financial gain, not a very smart move,” Sherman said “I’ll give $200,000,”

“That is too low, you have to understand, I had already planned a project on that land, and now I’ll have to pay the cancellation fee to the building company… $450,000,” Mr. Richards said trying to squeeze as much money out of Sherman as possible

“I’ll give you $300,000 and I’ll take care of the building company, that is my last offer,” Sherman said with a glare.

After a moment of silence, Richards stood up and extended his hand. "You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Drake. But I accept your offer. It's not often someone comes in here and impresses me like you have."

As they shook hands, Sherman knew he had achieved a significant milestone. He had negotiated on equal terms with one of the most formidable businessmen in the city and come out successful. This deal was more than just acquiring a piece of land; it was a testament to his growth and the potential of the powers he wielded.

Leaving Richards' office, Sherman felt a sense of accomplishment. He had taken another crucial step in his plan to make a positive impact on the housing crisis. With the final piece of land secured, he could now move forward with his project, a project that had the potential to change lives and make a real difference in the community.

However, back in his office, Filthy Rich, looked out of his window, following Sherman as he left the business.

He then turned and looked at the mountain of wads of cash he had placed in his desk totalling $300,000.

Filthy Rich grabbed one wad of cash and used it as a fan as he gathered his thoughts, and then his face lost all the little friendliness it had.

He reached for his phone and dialed a number

“It me… call Flim and Flam… we might have a new… problem on the rise, and while you’re at it, find all the information you can about this, Sherman Drake,” he said as he hung up and an evil smile crept onto his face “Town hero?... HA! I want to own the city… and no one will get between me and my goal… NO ONE!” he said as he turned around to look at the Canterlot Palace with a smirk.






LATER THAT DAY

As Sherman strolled through the nearby park, he couldn't help but absorb the joy and laughter around him. Families playing together, couples sharing tender moments, expecting mothers dreaming about their future. It was a scene filled with happiness and hope, yet a tinge of sadness touched Sherman's heart. He smiled, comforted by the thought that his actions might contribute to the future happiness of these families, especially the children.

His attention, however, was soon drawn to a solitary figure on a bench, a stark contrast to the surrounding mirth. An elderly man sat there, his demeanor one of deep sadness and regret. Sherman watched him for a moment, wondering about the story behind those sorrowful eyes.

Then, God's voice echoed in his head, "That, Spike, is what happens when one cares more about their career than anything else." The words resonated with Sherman, a poignant reminder of the balance between ambition and personal connections.

Curious to know more about the man, Sherman discreetly activated the console, aiming it at the figure on the bench. The screen flickered to life, revealing the man's information:

Name: Harold Jenkins
Age: 72
Marital Status: Single
Children: None
Siblings: None
Parents: Deceased
Occupation: Retired Adventurer, Former Corporate Executive

The details painted a picture of a life filled with professional accomplishments but devoid of personal connections. Harold Jenkins, once a daring adventurer, had retired to devote his life to the corporate world. In doing so, he had sacrificed relationships and the warmth of a family.

Sherman felt a wave of empathy for Harold. Here was a man who had achieved so much in his life, yet in these twilight years, he was alone, with only memories for company. It was a poignant reminder of the importance of balancing one's ambitions with the need for human connection and love.

Approaching Harold cautiously, Sherman sat down on the other end of the bench. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" he started, hoping to strike up a conversation. He didn't know if he could offer any comfort or change Harold's situation, but perhaps, just maybe, he could provide a moment of companionship to a soul in need.

Harold glanced at him, his eyes reflecting years of solitude. "Yes, it is. But sometimes, the most beautiful days can be the loneliest," he replied, his voice tinged with melancholy.

Sherman nodded, sensing the deep regret in Harold's words. "It seems like you've had quite a journey in life," he said softly, encouraging Harold to share more.

Harold sighed, looking out towards the playground. "A journey, yes, but one I often wish I'd traveled differently. I spent my years chasing career goals, thinking that was all I needed. Now, here I am, watching families, seeing what I missed out on."

Sherman listened intently as Harold continued. "I was an adventurer in my youth, then I moved into the corporate world. Success, status, wealth – I achieved it all. But at what cost? No wife to grow old with, no children to call me 'Dad,' no siblings to reminisce about old times. My advice to you, young man, is to find someone to share your life with. Don't make the mistake I did."

Sherman felt a pang of empathy for Harold. Here was a man who had achieved so much, yet regretted so much more. "Thank you for the advice," he replied sincerely. "Life is a balance, isn't it? Success and relationships, work and personal life."

"Exactly," Harold nodded. "Find that balance while you can."

As Harold shared his story, Sherman discreetly activated the console, curious about Harold's past relationships. While Harold spoke, Sherman's attention was split between listening to the old man's heartfelt regrets and scanning through the console, searching for glimpses of Harold's past that might have gone unnoticed or forgotten.

The conversation with Harold was a poignant reminder to Sherman about the importance of personal connections and the impact of the choices one makes in life. As he delved into the console, he wondered if there might be a way to bring some solace or closure to Harold's life. But for now, he simply listened, offering a sympathetic ear to

a man who had lived a life full of achievements but devoid of the warmth of shared experiences and love. Sherman realized that success, in its truest form, was not just about what one achieved but also about who was there to share in those achievements.

As they continued to talk, the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the park. The conversation between Sherman and Harold, a mix of wisdom, regret, and reflection, was a powerful reminder of the complexities of life's journey. For Sherman, it was an unexpected lesson, one that he would carry with him as he navigated his own path, now armed with powers that could change not just his life, but potentially the lives of others as well.

“Ok, Harold, what can your relationships do for you?... business, business, business… oh, and old squadmate… oh, no he’s dead… THIS GUY HAS NO MEANINGFUL RELATIONSHIPS!!!” Sherman thought as he continued scrolling through his relationships, they weren’t many, but none of them were meaningful enough to us.

Then, he noticed something, a name “Melanie Yu… they were old squadmate and classmates… by the looks of it, they had feelings for each other but they never got together… let’s look into her…” Sherman thought as he switched the screen in the console to the “Person search” option in the “Relationship” part of the console “... there you are! Melanie Yu… known as the Huntress back in the day… she is 69… never married, no children, she does have siblings and nieces and nephews… she currently lives at a retirement home outside of town… and she looks miserable… let’s change that…” Though Sherman as he opened up the “Add Relationship” option.

“Alright then… Harold Jenkins and Melani Yu, are married… anniversary… 14/02/1973, just months after completing the big mission he said his squad finished… ok, what’s next?... “modify family”... yeah that sounds about right…” Sherman thought as he opened the option in the console “... there we go… Play with genetics… What a handsome baby boy… now to age you… Date of birth, 06/01/1974… name… well, he always wanted a son to be his namesake so… Harold Patrick Jenkins Yu Jr.… Ok… now she always wanted to have a daughter named Mina… your wish is about to come true… Mina Alice Jenkins Yu… born… 10/05/1977… and 1 more, why not… “randomize”... Chase Jacob Jenkins Yu, born 23/11/1980… perfect!... now to give them grandchildren… ok…” Sherman was about to create new beings, but then he had a better idea, he went to the “Person Search” option and typed “Lonely, single, late 40s,” and a list of people who never married in the are appeared, amongst them he selected 3 in particular “Rina Sanchez, age 45, never married do to having social anxiety… let’s correct that,” Sherman said as he added Rina to the family tree and modified her life “... alright, now, you met Harold Jr at a… corporate party… you dated for 1 year and got married on 20/08/1999, and then you gave birth to your only son Robert Axel Jenkins Sanchez on 06/10/2000… Ok, done with the eldest, now goes the daughter… I’ll pair her with Alexander Davidssen, he is 48, he didn’t marry because he suffered a severe lack of self-esteem, but with a little help from a friend… me, we’ll change that… although he is older than her… OH! They were classmates, and they fell in love when he helped her emotionally when she was dumped by her ex… they dated for 7 years before marrying… but had a daughter when they were still dating… Amira Davidssen Jenkins, she was born 17/06/1995… now they have 3 kids with twins Lars and Markus Davidseen Jenkins, who were born 13/10/2003… and lastly we have Chase, I’ll pair you with Stephany Rogers… according to her description, she is 42, she was an orphan, abandoned by her parents when she was months old, this caused her to have severe trust issues, however, she became successful businesswoman… we’ll leave that part intact… she started her own trading company at 25 in 2006, making it a very successful company in 2008… where she met Chase, who worked for a client of hers, he helped her out when she was in a pickle and love blossomed… by 2010 they were married and their daughter Felicia was born on 01/04/2010… there… OH! Why don’t I make it more interesting…” Sherman said with a smirk, he then went back to the “Person Search” and typed something random, when something caught his attention, there, on the first row of people that appeared before placing any parameters, there was a young woman… her name was Marie Thompson, and her description had just changed with the words “Feels so alone, she is on her way to commit suicide”.

Sherman quickly opened her profile and saw that she had a big family, but her parents only cared about her brothers, and not her, they belittled her, and treated her as a waste.

“Un-fucking-believable, people like them still exist… I have to stop her, by the looks of her description she has a heart of gold, even though her parents are shit…” Sherman said as he began to move thing around, but stopped when he noticed something, something BIG 

“She just turned 18, 5 months ago, if I give her a child, that’ll mean she became a mother when she was underage… unless… “ Sherman said as he joined her to Harold’s family tree matching her with Robert, and then went over to Genetics and typed “5 months pregnant” and then her belly got swollen like any 5 month old pregnant woman’s.

Happy with what he had done he was about to press save, when God’s voice sounded in his head

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he said

“I can, can’t I?” Sherman said

“Of course… just, not very often… however, your idea of using already living people and change their lives is better than what I thought you were going to do,” God said

“So, this is the first limitation to the console?” asked Sherman

“Indeed, you must follow the balance of life, for there to be a life there must be a death… this is why I am modifying the Family Tree function to let you know how many new lives you can create, after discounting the births of the day, of course,” God said

“I can live with that,” Sherman said as he pressed “save and done”

Sherman stood up from the bench, looking down at Harold with a soft smile. "Well, it is getting late. Enjoy your picnic," he said gently before turning to walk away.

Harold, puzzled, called after him, "What picnic?" But before he could get an answer, a young girl came running up to him with the energy and excitement only a child could possess. "Grandpa, Grandpa! Dad said the BBQ is ready," she chirped, grabbing his hand.

Harold looked down at the girl in confusion. He didn't recognize her, yet she called him grandpa with such familiarity. "Something wrong, Grandpa?" she asked, her small hand tugging at his. "Because the food is going to get cold!"

Still bewildered, Harold allowed himself to be led by the little girl to the BBQ tables of the park. There, a large family gathering was in full swing. He saw Melanie Yu, his former squad companion from his adventuring days, surrounded by two older men and women who resembled her, along with their partners and children.

"And who are they?" Harold asked the little girl, trying to sound playful despite his growing astonishment.

"You don't remember?" she giggled. "That's Grandma Melanie, Uncle Harold and his wife Auntie Rina, that's their son cousin Robert and his girlfriend Marie. She has a baby in her belly! And that's Auntie Mina and Uncle Alexander, and those are their children Amira, the oldest, and the twins, Lars and Markus. You usually punish them for being pranksters. And that's my mom and dad, Mommy Stephany and Daddy Chase. And I'm Felicia!"

As Felicia spoke, a cascade of memories flooded Harold's mind, each one more vivid and heartwarming than the last. Memories of laughter, love, and family moments he had long forgotten or never knew he had. Tears welled up in his eyes as the realization hit him – this was his family, a family he never knew he had.

"Something wrong, Grandpa?" Felicia asked, her eyes filled with concern.

"No, no, my love, just remembering things," Harold replied, his voice trembling with emotion.

"GRANDMA MELANIE! SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH GRANDPA!" Felicia shouted, running towards the table, her voice laced with worry.

As the family quickly gathered around Harold, concern etched on their faces, he looked at each of them, truly seeing them for the first time. Melanie approached, her face showing a mix of concern and affection. "Harold, are you alright?" she asked, her hand reaching out to touch his arm gently.

Harold nodded, unable to speak as he was overwhelmed by the warmth and love surrounding him. He felt a sense of belonging, a connection he had longed for all his life but never realized he had been missing. The realization that he was not alone, that he had a family who cared for him, was a balm to his lonely soul.

From a distance, Sherman watched the emotional scene unfold. A smile graced his lips, knowing he had played a part in reuniting Harold with his family, in restoring memories and connections that had been lost. It was a powerful reminder of the impact he could have on people's lives with his newfound abilities.

As the family laughed and talked, welcoming Harold back into their fold, Sherman felt a profound sense of fulfillment. He had not only helped Harold find a sense of belonging but had also given a family back their patriarch, filling a void they might not even have known existed.

Turning away from the heartwarming scene, Sherman walked on, his heart full. He had witnessed the power of love and family, the healing that came from reconnection and belonging. It was a lesson he would carry with him as he continued on his journey, using his powers not just for personal gain, but to bring joy, healing, and hope to others. In a world where magic and power were often sought for personal achievement, Sherman had found a greater purpose – to use his abilities to create meaningful, positive change in the lives around him.

As Sherman continued his walk through the park, the sight of families and couples around him stirred a deep sense of loneliness within him. He couldn't help but feel a void, a longing for a connection that he had never truly experienced. In a moment of impulse, he opened the console and navigated to the "Relationships" section, typing in his own name. His profile appeared, but to his surprise, all he could modify were his friendship levels with strangers.

Just then, God's voice echoed in his mind, "Yeah, I can't let you cheat on your own love life, it won't do you any good... If a girl or boy falls in love with you, it should be because the feeling is natural, just like you did with Harold and Melanie."

Sherman frowned slightly, "But what about their kids? I forced the love with their spouses."

"Well, they were lonely and yearning for love," God explained.

"So am I!" Sherman retorted, his voice tinged with frustration.

"I know, but even though your heart is pure, I'd prefer it if you wouldn't cheat your own romance into life. Let it happen naturally," God advised.

Sherman paused, taking in these words. He understood the wisdom in them. Love, to be genuine and fulfilling, needed to be real and unforced. The idea of artificially creating a romantic relationship through his powers now seemed hollow and unappealing.

He closed the console, a resigned yet accepting smile on his face. "Alright, I understand. I'll wait for love to find me naturally," he murmured to himself.

As he continued his walk,

Sherman reflected on the conversation with God. There was a certain beauty in the unpredictability of life, in the natural ebb and flow of relationships. Love was not something to be manufactured or manipulated; it was to be discovered, nurtured, and cherished.

He thought about the relationships he had just witnessed – families reuniting, couples sharing moments, children laughing. These were the genuine expressions of love and connection that he longed for. And while he had the power to change many things, some aspects of life, like love, were meant

to be experienced in their purest form, untouched by any external influence.

As he left the park, Sherman felt a sense of peace with this limitation of his powers. He had always yearned for love and companionship, but now he understood the value of letting such a fundamental human experience unfold naturally. The realization that some things were beyond his control, and rightly so, was both humbling and liberating.

The next morning, Sherman stood outside the apartment building he now owned, watching as his belongings were moved into storage. A burly, no-nonsense construction foreman approached him. "Well, after looking at all the lots and this building, I have to say, it'll take at least six months of construction to get everything ready, including demolishing this old place," he said.

Sherman nodded, "And money-wise?"

The foreman scratched his head, "Around 5 to 6 million dollars, give or take."

"Very well. When can you start?" Sherman asked, his voice steady and determined.

"Tomorrow, 5 AM sharp," the foreman replied.

Sherman then handed over several suitcases filled with cash, totaling 6 million dollars. "Thank you, sir. We'll get all the needed materials and build your dream. That's our motto," the foreman said, visibly impressed by Sherman's readiness.

"I don't doubt you will," Sherman responded. As the foreman walked away, Sherman discreetly used the console to enhance the skills of all the construction workers, ensuring the highest quality work for his project.

With the construction underway, Sherman had one more task on his agenda. He hailed a taxi and directed it to a secluded cabin in the Evergreen woods. Once there, and after ensuring the taxi had left, he made his way to the nearby waterfalls. It was winter, and the area was desolate, making it the perfect spot for his next plan – to improve his body.

Standing at the edge of the waterfall, Sherman opened the console command. He navigated to the "Body" section, contemplating the changes he wanted to make. This time, he wasn't just altering his external environment or circumstances; he was about to transform himself.

With a deep breath, he began inputting his desired modifications. He focused on enhancing his physical strength, endurance, and overall health. He was careful and precise, aware of the powerful tool at his disposal.

As he made the changes, he felt a tingling sensation coursing through his body, a sign that the modifications were taking effect. Muscles firmed, his posture straightened, and a feeling of vitality flooded his system. Sherman stepped back, feeling a new sense of power and capability within him.

As he gazed at the majestic waterfall, Sherman realized he was no longer the same person who had stumbled upon these incredible powers. He had a vision, a purpose, and now, the physical and mental means to achieve it. He was ready to not only rebuild the structures around him but also to build a new life for himself and for those he hoped to help.

Sherman, standing under the cascade of the waterfall, focused intently on the console's "Life Cheats" and "Body" section. His digital avatar appeared, ready for modification. With a sense of purpose, he adjusted his height to an imposing 6'6", then tweaked the body sliders, transforming his physique into something fit and muscular. He even refined his facial features, turning his double chin into a chiseled jawline. Satisfied, he hit "Save and Done."

As he confirmed his choices, God's voice echoed, "Are you sure?" Without hesitation, Sherman affirmed, "Yes." Instantly, his body began to convulse violently, far beyond anything he had anticipated. The pain was excruciating, making horror movies pale in comparison. His eyes turned bloodshot, and he vomited blood amidst the torturous transformation.

After ten agonizing minutes, the convulsions ceased. Sherman lay exhausted in the shallow waters of the lake, gasping for air. In a mix of anger and pain, he yelled, "YOU COULD'VE WARNED ME IT WAS GOING TO BE AGONIZINGLY PAINFUL!"

God's voice came, somewhat amused, "I asked if you were sure. Plus, did no one ever tell you that the easy way is not always the best way? Besides, compared to the pain of childbirth, that was a mere 6."

"Really!" Sherman retorted, still reeling from the experience. Then, suddenly, his stomach began to churn and growl ominously.

"What's happening?" he asked, alarmed.

"That's all the excess fat leaving your body. It has to go somewhere. I suggest you start running if you want to reach a bathroom in time," God replied, a chuckle in His voice.

Realizing the urgency, Sherman scrambled to his feet and bolted through the woods, clutching his stomach. As he ran, he could feel his new body's strength and agility, but the immediate concern was finding a restroom.

Once the emergency had passed and Sherman had a chance to catch his breath, he took a moment to reflect on his transformation. He was now physically the person he had always wanted to be, but the process had taught him a valuable lesson – shortcuts, even those provided by divine powers, came with their own challenges and pains.

He also took the time to materialize a “Biohazard” sign and yellow tape and placed it at the entrance of the bathroom. He knew they’ll need a team of cleaners to take care of all that, he could only pray for their forgiveness.

As he walked back to his cabin, feeling his new strength with each step, Sherman understood that this transformation was more than physical. It was a symbol of his journey, a reminder that growth, change, and achieving one's dreams often come with unexpected trials. He was ready to face these challenges head-on, embracing both the pains and joys of his new life.

And now, he knew what was his next step: “Get stronger!” knowing full well that to do that, he’ll have to start adventuring and dungeon crawling.
> G.U.C.C. Ch.4 "Mission DOOMED"
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sherman awoke the next morning, the first rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains and casting a warm glow across the room. He stretched, feeling the strength and agility in his newly transformed body. A smile spread across his face as he thought about the day ahead – a day that marked the beginning of a new chapter in his life.

Lying in bed, he started to plan out his day, speaking aloud to himself. "First things first, I need to wait for my new clothes to arrive. Can't go around using bed sheets as a toga anymore," he chuckled at the thought. His old clothes no longer fit his taller, more muscular frame, and he had ordered clothes that would be more suitable for his new physique.

"Second, as soon as I'm dressed, it's off to Guild Avenue," he continued, his excitement building. The avenue was the hub for all the guilds in the city, a place bustling with adventurers, mages, and all manner of skilled individuals. "Third, I'll register at the guild. It's about time I see what being an adventurer is all about."

"And fourth," he said, getting out of bed and standing up tall, "it's time for an adventure! A real one, out there, where magic and danger lurk around every corner!"

He was ready to test his new skills and abilities in the real world, to embark on quests and explore the unknown. The thought of it sent a thrill through him.

Energized by his plan, Sherman decided to prepare immediately. He took a step forward out of bed, when suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his leg. "Charlie horse!" he yelped, falling to the ground and clutching his leg.

Lying there, wincing in pain, he realized his mistake. "Breakfast first," he groaned as he slowly got up. His body, though enhanced, still needed nourishment, especially after the extreme physical changes it had undergone.

As he limped to the kitchen to make himself a hearty breakfast, Sherman couldn't help but laugh at himself. He might have the powers of a god and the body of an athlete, but he was still human, after all. It was a humbling reminder that even with his newfound abilities, he needed to take care of the basics – like eating a good meal before setting off on an adventure.

As he prepared his breakfast, Sherman thought about the day ahead with a sense of anticipation. He was about to step into a world he had only dreamed of, a world of adventure and magic. It was a world where he could test his limits, explore his abilities, and perhaps make a difference.

Finishing his breakfast and feeling much better, Sherman checked the time. His new clothes should be arriving soon. Today was going to be the start of something great, he could feel it in his bones – well, the ones not aching from the charlie horse.

Once dressed and properly equipped, he would make his way to Guild Avenue. The thought of registering as an adventurer and embarking on quests that once seemed like mere fantasies filled him with an exhilarating sense of purpose. He was no longer the downtrodden, overlooked Sherman; he was someone who could shape his own destiny, someone ready to carve out his place in the world of adventure.

With a renewed sense of determination and a bit of a limp from the unexpected muscle cramp, Sherman prepared to embark on the first step of his new journey. This was more than just an adventure; it was a chance to discover who he truly was and what he was capable of in this vast, magical world.

Sherman, panting from his brisk walk to Guild Avenue, sat down on a nearby bench to catch his breath. As he did, a computerized voice chimed in his head, "You Leveled up." Surprised, he opened the console command, and to his amazement, he saw that his avatar now had a "Level 2" indicator beneath it.

"I'm a level 2!" he exclaimed internally, a mixture of excitement and disbelief coursing through him. He quickly scanned his abilities, noting that they were all at level 1, except for stamina, which was at level 3. "How am I going to survive out there with these skills?" he pondered, concern creeping into his thoughts.

Then, an idea struck him. "Upgrade time!" he declared with determination. He tapped on each skill in the console, raising them all to level 10. Instantly, he felt a profound change: his body felt lighter, his muscles tenser and more defined, and his vision sharpened to the point where he no longer needed his glasses, which he promptly stored in the console's "storage" section.

Feeling empowered, Sherman stood up, ready to approach the guilds. But a wave of memories hit him, memories of his last visit to Guild Avenue. He recalled the rejections and humiliations he had faced at the hands of various guilds. Most had turned him away with insults and disdain, some even resorting to having their members physically attack him to chase him off. All except one – The Silver Moon guild.

The Silver Moon guild had been different. They had turned him away, yes, but they had done so respectfully and kindly. They had expressed genuine concern for his well-being, stating that they couldn't, in good conscience, allow him to enter the dangerous world of adventuring with his then-physical condition and lack of skills.

Sherman remembered standing at the entrance of The Silver Moon guild, feeling a mix of disappointment and respect. The guildmaster, a wise old man with kind eyes, had said, "Young man, the path of an adventurer is fraught with peril. It requires not only courage but also the physical and mental fortitude to face the unknown. I see the determination in your eyes, but I fear for your safety. Come back when you have honed your skills and strengthened your body."

Those words, spoken with sincere concern, had stayed with Sherman. Now, standing once again on Guild Avenue, he felt a sense of resolve. He was no longer the same person who had been turned away. He had transformed, both physically and mentally. It was time to revisit The Silver Moon guild, to show them the change he had undergone.

With renewed purpose, Sherman walked towards the elegant, moon-emblazoned facade of The Silver Moon guild. The guild, known for its esteemed reputation and honorable conduct, stood as a beacon of hope and integrity amidst the competitive and often ruthless world of adventuring.

As he approached the entrance, memories of past rejections from other guilds flashed through his mind. He remembered the sneers, the laughter, and the outright hostility he had encountered. But he pushed those memories aside, focusing instead on the present and the person he had become.

Reaching the guild's doors, Sherman took a deep breath and stepped inside. The interior was as he remembered: grand and welcoming, with the guild's emblem prominently displayed. The reception area was bustling with activity, adventurers discussing missions and sharing tales of their exploits.

He approached the reception desk, where a young woman looked up at him with a polite smile. "Welcome to The Silver Moon guild. How may I assist you today?" she asked.

Sherman returned her smile, his newfound confidence evident in his posture and voice. "I'd like to speak with the guildmaster, please. I've been here before, and I believe it's time for me to join your ranks."

The receptionist's eyes widened slightly as she took in his imposing figure and determined gaze. "Of course, sir. Let me inform the guildmaster of your request. Please, have a seat."

As Sherman sat down, he felt a sense of anticipation. He was ready to embark on this new journey, to prove not only to The Silver Moon guild but to himself that he was capable of facing whatever challenges lay ahead. He was no longer seeking acceptance; he was there to claim his rightful place in the world of adventurers.

The guildmaster, a distinguished man with a seasoned gaze, walked into the reception area and immediately noticed the transformation in Sherman. "You've lost weight, and grown taller," he observed, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"I'm ready to start my career as an adventurer," Sherman replied confidently, his smile unwavering.

The guildmaster regarded Sherman for a few moments, his expression thoughtful, then broke into a smile. "The physical exam takes place through those doors," he said, gesturing towards a large set of double doors at the end of the hall. Turning to the receptionist, he instructed, "Marion, please oversee the test accordingly."

"Yes, sir," Marion replied, leading Sherman towards the testing area.

Once inside, Marion explained the nature of the test. "Your physical exam will be a combat simulation. You'll face multiple opponents in a controlled environment. The goal is to assess your combat skills, strategy, and adaptability. You'll need to defeat at least half of the opponents to pass."

Sherman nodded, mentally preparing himself. The doors to the simulation room opened, revealing a large, arena-like space. As he stepped inside, holographic opponents materialized around him – skilled warriors of various sizes and combat styles.

As the simulation began, the arena around Sherman came to life with the hum of advanced technology. Holographic opponents, each a formidable warrior in their own right, materialized from thin air. They ranged from heavily armored knights to agile ninjas, each programmed to test the limits of his combat abilities.

Sherman took a deep breath, centering himself. The first opponent lunged towards him, a virtual sword swinging in a wide arc. Reacting instinctively, Sherman ducked and rolled to the side, feeling the whoosh of the blade just inches above him. He sprang up and delivered a solid punch to the hologram's torso, his enhanced strength sending the figure reeling backwards.

But there was no time to celebrate. Almost immediately, another opponent, a ninja with lightning-fast moves, closed in. Sherman blocked and parried a flurry of strikes, but a swift kick caught him off-guard, sending him stumbling. He recovered quickly, countering with a series of well-placed jabs that disintegrated the ninja into pixels.

Sherman's heart pounded in his chest as he faced each new challenger. A spear-wielding warrior forced him to keep moving, dodging thrusts and slashes. He managed to disarm the warrior with a clever feint, then used the spear to sweep the legs out from under another approaching opponent.

The combat was relentless. Sherman was pushed to his limits, his body aching from exertion and simulated blows. He was no expert fighter, but his raw strength and the adrenaline coursing through his veins kept him in the fight.

As the number of opponents dwindled, fatigue began to set in. Sherman's movements grew slower, less precise. An enemy archer landed a virtual arrow in his shoulder, causing his arm to go numb. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Sherman charged at the archer, tackling them to the ground before they could notch another arrow.

With only a few opponents left, Sherman gathered his remaining strength. He took on a skilled swordswoman, parrying her strikes with difficulty. In a moment of clarity, he spotted an opening and seized it, disarming her with a swift move and landing a decisive blow.

As the final holographic enemy vanished, Sherman stood alone in the center of the arena, breathing heavily. He was battered and bruised, his virtual injuries sending signals of pain to his brain, but he had passed the test.

Marion's voice brought him back to reality. "Simulation complete. Test passed." She looked at him with a mixture of surprise and respect. "You've got the heart of a fighter. With proper training, you could become a formidable adventurer."

Sherman leaned over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He was exhausted, every muscle in his body screaming in protest, but he felt a surge of pride. He had faced a barrage of skilled warriors and had come out on top, albeit barely. It was a testament to his newfound abilities and his determination.

As he exited the simulation room, he realized the road ahead would be challenging. The test had shown him that raw power and enhanced abilities were not enough. He needed training, experience, and a deeper understanding of combat tactics. But he was ready for the challenge, ready to learn and grow into the adventurer he aspired to be.

With his first victory under his belt, Sherman stepped out of the testing area with a renewed sense of purpose. He had proven to himself and to The Silver Moon guild that he had what it took to embark on this new journey. The path of an adventurer was fraught with peril, but Sherman Drake was prepared to meet it head-on. The adventure had just begun.

“Not bad for a beginner,” Marion said patting his sweaty back

Sherman smiled through his exhaustion. "I'm ready for whatever it takes," he said, determination shining in his eyes.

With that, Sherman had taken his first official step into the world of adventuring. He knew the road ahead would be challenging, filled with dangers and learning experiences, but he was prepared to face it head-on. The journey of Sherman Drake, adventurer, had just begun.

As Sherman stepped out of the test hall, the familiar computerized voice announced, "You leveled up!" repeatedly, a total of eight times. He checked the console and saw that he was now all the way up to level 10, a fact that filled him with pride and a sense of accomplishment.

Then, God's voice echoed in his mind, "Well done, son. As a reward, I'm going to gift you one of these three items and one skill for free." Before him appeared three legendary grade artifacts. The first was a rifle with a built-in katana blade named "Soul-Eater." The second was an armor called "The Ultimate Holy Armor," and the last was a backpack, known as the "Endless Bag."

Initially drawn to the weapon, Sherman paused to reconsider. Weapons and armor, he realized, could be bought or acquired through adventures. He had the means to obtain them. But the bag – that was a different story. The "Endless Bag" was a highly sought-after item among adventurers, known for its ability to carry an almost infinite number of items without increasing in weight or size. Recognizing its rare value, Sherman chose the bag, which materialized on his back.

"Good choice," God's voice approved.

"Now, about the skill," God continued as he unlocked the "Adventurer Skills" section of the console. Sherman was presented with three options: "Brute," which increased his strength tenfold for about five minutes; "Marksman," offering perfect aim for about ten minutes; and "Discernment," a skill that allowed him to pinpoint enemies and grade drop items within a three-meter radius, with no cooldown time. Weighing his options, Sherman chose "Discernment" for its strategic advantage and utility.

Just as he made his selection, Marion returned with his guild card. "Thank you," Sherman said, taking the card, only to notice that he was ranked as an "E." He turned to Marion with a questioning look.

"What, that simulation was only level 3," she explained with a smile. "But don't worry, even with an E rank, you have no restrictions on joining adventures or dungeon expeditions. And given your performance, I'm sure you'll advance quickly."

"We at The Silver Moon Guild wish you the best of luck and success, Spike!" she added, using the nickname that had somehow stuck.

Sherman nodded, a sense of eagerness welling up inside him. He was officially an adventurer now, a member of The Silver Moon Guild. With the "Endless Bag" on his back and the "Discernment" skill at his disposal, he felt ready to take on whatever challenges lay ahead.

As he stepped out of the guild, Sherman felt a surge of anticipation. He was about to embark on a journey filled with danger, excitement, and discovery. He had the tools, the skills, and now the official status to dive into the world of adventuring.

Walking down Guild Avenue, Sherman couldn't help but feel that this was just the beginning of a grand adventure, one that would test his limits and push him to grow in ways he never imagined. He was no longer the overlooked, powerless individual he once was; he was an adventurer with potential, ready to carve his own path in the world of Equestria. The road ahead was uncertain, but Sherman Drake was ready to face it head-on, with courage, determination, and a sense of adventure.

As Sherman made his way down the bustling street, his mind was occupied with thoughts of finding an adventurer party or expedition to join. However, he soon realized a glaring oversight in his preparation – he lacked both weapons and armor. Deciding to remedy this, he headed towards the nearby Blacksmith Center, a towering structure renowned for housing the finest blacksmiths in the city.

Upon entering the grand building, Sherman was immediately recognized by the floor manager, a well

-dressed man with a disdainful look in his eyes. "You again? I thought I made it clear last time that your kind isn't welcome here," the manager sneered, his voice loud enough to draw the attention of nearby patrons.

Sherman, taken aback by the hostility, tried to reason with him. "I'm just here to buy some equipment. I can pay."

"Pay? Ha! Your money's no good here. We cater to real adventurers, not wannabes who think they can buy their way into the guilds," the manager retorted, eliciting laughter from some of the wealthier, more powerful adventurers in the vicinity.

Feeling humiliated, Sherman turned to leave,

his cheeks burning with embarrassment and anger. But just as he was about to exit the building, a voice called out to him. "Over here," it said, sounding friendly but cautious.

Sherman hesitated, aware it could be a trap, but curiosity got the better of him. He approached the store from where the voice had come. The shop was smaller and less flashy than the others in the center, but it had a welcoming feel to it.

"Hello! Welcome to Amusement Weapons and Armor. I'm the owner and chief blacksmith, Charles Sandford, but you can call me Cheese Sandwich," the man introduced himself with a warm smile. "I saw what happened over there. It's not right. Maybe I can help you. My weapons aren't fancy, but they'll keep you alive, I guarantee it... as long as you know how to use them."

Sherman, feeling a wave of relief, replied with a weak smile, "Thanks... I'll take your best selection. Money is not an issue."

After about thirty minutes, Charles brought out a selection of his finest items. Sherman used his "Discernment" skill to assess the equipment. He chose a sleek Rubycon-Titanium armor designed for agility, perfect for a rogue-like adventurer. Along with it, he selected a few guns and knives, the craftsmanship exceptional yet understated.

Once he had changed into his new armor and tested the balance and feel of the weapons, Charles announced, "Well, you're all set. The total comes to $300,000 for everything."

Sherman was taken aback, not just by the quality of the gear but also by the price, which was incredibly reasonable for such high-grade equipment. He paid without hesitation, appreciative of Charles' fairness and craftsmanship.

As he left the shop, equipped and ready, Charles called out, "THANK YOU, COME AGAIN!" His voice was filled with genuine goodwill.

Sherman stepped out onto the street, feeling a new sense of confidence. He was no longer just an aspiring adventurer; he was fully equipped and ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Standing at the outskirts of the city near the entrance to the Zaldion Dungeon, Sherman surveyed the scene before him. Various groups of adventurers and families were gearing up, their excitement palpable in the air. He approached different groups, hoping to join them, but each time he was met with rejection. His rank as an "E" adventurer seemed to be a deterrent.

“Hi, my name is Sherman. I was wondering if I could join?” he asked one group

“Sorry kid, the minimum requirement to become a list filler is to be at least rank D+, come back when you are, then you can carry our shit!” said the leader

Sherman then went to another one, but the leader said “Keep dreaming, this is the Lulamoon familia, only the best of the best can join and serve me, THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE LULAMOON!!” she said “Come back when you are strong enough to clear a dungeon on your own,” she finished as her followers chanted her name

And that was what happened over and over again, in some cases, they didn’t want to take him because they knew that they couldn’t protect him properly, in others, his rank was too low for the speed of the expedition, and others belonged to powerful familias that were too full of themselves.

Feeling disheartened, Sherman resigned himself to the possibility of having to venture into the dungeon alone – a daunting and potentially deadly endeavor. Just as he was about to step into the dungeon's shadowy maw, two tall men approached him. They had the rugged look of cowboys, with a demeanor that spoke of confidence and experience.

The older of the two stepped forward, extending a hand. "Name's Brandon Applewood, but folks around here call me Braeburn," he said in a deep southern drawl. He then gestured to the towering man beside him. "And this here's my cousin, Maxwell Smith, though we all just call him Big Mac."

Sherman shook their hands, introducing himself in return. "I'm Sherman, but you can call me Spike."

Braeburn nodded, a friendly smile on his face. "Saw you tryin' to join up with those other groups. Shame how they treated you, just on account of your rank. Me and Big Mac here, we believe in giving folks a chance. How 'bout you join us for this dungeon run? We could use an extra hand, and we don't much care about ranks."

Sherman's spirits lifted at the offer. "That'd be great. Thank you both. I'm ready to pull my weight," he replied with a renewed sense of hope.

Big Mac, who had been silent up until then, offered a nod and a simple, "Yup," in agreement.

As the newly formed trio walked towards the dungeon entrance, Braeburn continued, "Now, Zaldion Dungeon can be tricky. Lots of twists and turns, not to mention the creatures lurking inside. But me and Big Mac have been through it a few times. We'll show you the ropes."

Sherman listened intently, grateful for the guidance and the opportunity. "I'm here to learn and help out as much as I can. Just lead the way."

Braeburn chuckled. "That's the spirit, Spike. Stick with us, and you'll do just fine. Let's see what this dungeon's got in store for us today."

As they entered the dungeon's mouth, a cool, damp air enveloped them. The passage ahead was dimly lit by glowing moss that clung to the walls. Sherman felt a mix of nervousness and excitement. He was finally embarking on a real adventure, and with Braeburn and Big Mac by his side, he felt a sense of camaraderie and belonging.

The dungeon awaited, its depths holding unknown challenges and treasures. For Sherman, this was more than just an exploration; it was a test of his abilities and a chance to prove himself as an adventurer. With his new allies at his side, he was ready to face whatever lay ahead. The adventure of Sherman "Spike" Drake had truly begun.

As the trio ventured deeper into the Zaldion Dungeon, Braeburn took the lead, with Big Mac covering the rear. The dim, eerie glow of the moss cast long shadows, creating an atmosphere of ancient mystery. Braeburn began sharing pointers with Sherman, his voice echoing softly in the cavernous space.

"First thing about dungeon crawling, Spike, is always be aware of your surroundings," Braeburn advised, his eyes scanning the area. "Dungeons like these are full of traps and hidden creatures. You gotta keep your eyes peeled and your senses sharp."

Big Mac added in his deep, calm voice, "And don't rush into fights. It's better to assess the situation first. Sometimes, avoiding conflict is smarter than diving headlong into it."

Sherman nodded, absorbing every word. He was grateful for the guidance, feeling more confident with each step he took beside these seasoned adventurers.

As they continued, Braeburn shared a bit about his background. "I started adventuring when I was about fifteen. It's been a wild ride, full of ups and downs. But I love the thrill of it, the challenge. It's what keeps me going."

Big Mac chimed in, "I followed in his footsteps a year later. I was sixteen. Braeburn's been a great mentor. Taught me everything I know."

Sherman listened intently, impressed by their experience. "I'm 26," Braeburn continued, "and Big Mac here is 23. We've seen our fair share of dungeons, but each one is different, each one a new adventure."

As they spoke, they navigated through narrow passages and overcame small obstacles, their camaraderie growing with each challenge they faced together. Sherman felt a sense of belonging and purpose, something he had longed for.

"I'm really grateful you guys let me tag along," Sherman said. "I'm here to learn and get better. Any advice you have, I'm all ears."

Braeburn smiled, clapping Sherman on the back. "You've got the right attitude, Spike. That's half the battle right there. Stick with us, and you'll be a seasoned adventurer in no time."

Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden rustling noise ahead. The trio halted, their senses heightened. Sherman gripped his weapon tighter, ready to face whatever challenge lay ahead, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and excitement. This was it – his first real test as an adventurer.

The trio made their way down through the labyrinthine corridors of the Zaldion Dungeon, encountering various creatures and monsters. They fought off agile Shadow Lynxes, known for their quick, stealthy attacks, and resilient Stone Trolls, whose rock-like skin made them tough opponents. Each encounter tested their skills and teamwork, but they managed to overcome the challenges, growing more cohesive as a unit.

By the time they reached the tenth floor, Sherman, Braeburn, and Big Mac had established a rhythm in their teamwork. Sherman was learning quickly, adapting to the unpredictable nature of the dungeon.

As they entered the tenth floor, Braeburn suddenly halted, his eyes narrowing at the sight before them. The walls of the dungeon were marred with scorch marks and debris, signs of a recent and intense battle. "This ain't right," he muttered.

"What is it?" Sherman asked, peering at the damaged walls.

Braeburn's expression was serious. "I think someone got trigger-happy with their magic down here, which is very dangerous. Magic can be unstable in the dungeon. We need to proceed with caution."

No sooner had he spoken than a group of Hobgoblins burst forth from a concealed passage. These creatures were larger and more ferocious than the goblins they had encountered on the upper floors.

"Get ready!" Braeburn shouted as he drew his weapon. Big Mac braced himself, his expression steely and focused.

Sherman readied his guns, taking aim. The Hobgoblins charged, brandishing crude weapons and snarling fiercely.

The battle was chaotic. Sherman took down a Hobgoblin with a well-placed shot, but another quickly closed the gap, swinging a massive club. He dodged, feeling the whoosh of the club as it narrowly missed his head.

Braeburn fought with a combination of agility and brute force, his strikes precise and powerful. Big Mac, living up to his name, was a force to be reckoned with, tackling the Hobgoblins with sheer strength.

"We need to thin their numbers quickly!" Braeburn yelled over the clamor of battle. "Spike, focus on the ones at the back!"

Sherman nodded, picking off the Hobgoblins that tried to flank them. The trio moved as a well-coordinated unit, covering each other's backs and exploiting the weaknesses of their foes.

After several intense minutes, the last of the Hobgoblins fell. The trio stood panting, surveying the aftermath. "That was a close one," Sherman said, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Good shooting, Spike," Braeburn complimented, clapping him on the shoulder. "You're getting the hang of this."

Big Mac nodded in agreement, a rare smile crossing his face.

Sherman felt a surge of pride. He was proving himself, not just as a fighter, but as a valuable member of the team. Together, they were more than the sum of their parts.

With renewed vigilance, they continued deeper into the tenth floor, wary of what other dangers might lurk in the shadows of the Zaldion Dungeon. Their adventure was far from over, and Sherman was ready for whatever challenges awaited.

As they made their way further into the dungeon, Braeburn explained the challenges that lay ahead. "Once we hit the thirteenth floor, our maps won't do us much good. No one's ever made it past the fourteenth floor; it's blocked off for some reason."

Sherman listened intently, but his attention was suddenly diverted by a glint in the corner of his eye. "LOOK OUT!" he shouted, reacting instinctively. He sprinted towards Braeburn and Big Mac, tackling them to the ground just as a violent explosion erupted where they had been standing moments before.

Dust and debris filled the air, and the sound of the blast echoed through the corridors. As the dust settled, Braeburn and Big Mac realized what had just happened. They quickly got to their feet, pulling Sherman up with them.

"Man, you just saved our hides!" Braeburn exclaimed, clapping Sherman on the back. Big Mac, usually a man of few words, added, "Thank you, Spike. That was quick thinking."

Sherman, still catching his breath, nodded and walked over to inspect the site of the explosion. Scattered among the debris, he found the remnants of what appeared to be a magical landmine. "A magic Landmine," he muttered, examining the fragments.

Braeburn's eyes widened. "Those are illegal! They're unstable and highly dangerous. This means someone's setting traps down here. We must be even more careful."

“I’ll contact my guild, and let them know, so that they can warn everyone else!” Spike said

“That’s smart thinkin’” Braeburn said

Big Mac looked around warily. "Could be other traps. We need to watch our step."

Sherman nodded in agreement. "Discernment" might help us detect traps and hidden enemies," he suggested, referring to his skill. "I'll take point. Keep your eyes peeled, and let's move slowly… do any of you know how to use guns?” 

Big Mac and Braeburn looked at Spike a little offended as they used their magic to materialize a shotgun and an AK-47

“Question answered,” he said

The trio proceeded with caution, their senses heightened. The presence of the landmine was a grim reminder that the dungeon held more dangers than just its inhabitants. It was a treacherous place, filled with unforeseen perils.

As they navigated the dungeon's treacherous terrain, Sherman felt a renewed sense of responsibility. His quick reflexes had saved them this time, but he knew they weren't out of danger yet. The dungeon was testing them at every turn, and Sherman was determined to rise to the challenge. Together, they delved deeper into the unknown, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

Progressing cautiously, the trio descended level by level, marking and avoiding as many traps as they could. Sherman's "Discernment" skill proved invaluable, revealing hidden dangers and preventing ambushes by the dungeon's denizens. With each level, their coordination and teamwork improved, turning them into a formidable adventuring team.

After several hours of careful navigation, they reached a vast rotunda on the 13th level. The space was eerily silent, save for the distant drips of water echoing off the stone walls. In the center of the rotunda, a lone adventurer knelt, seemingly engrossed in some task.

As Sherman took a step forward, the figure rose to his feet, turning to face them. Sherman's heart skipped a beat as he recognized the man. "Cass?" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with disbelief. Instinctively, he raised his AR-15, aiming it at the figure from his past.

Cass, looking weary and disheveled, raised his hands in a non-threatening gesture. "Spike? What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice a mixture of surprise and wariness.

"I could ask you the same thing," Sherman retorted, his finger hovering over the trigger. Memories of Cass's bullying and mockery at the restaurant flooded back, fueling a mix of anger and confusion.

Braeburn stepped forward, his hand resting on Sherman's shoulder. "Easy, Spike. Let's hear him out."

Cass lowered his hands slowly, a look of resignation on his face. "I'm here on a mission. Our guild was hired to clear out some of the creatures in this dungeon. But things went south, and I got separated from my team."

Sherman's grip on his weapon loosened slightly, but he remained cautious. "And the traps?"

Cass shook his head. "Not our doing. We ran into them just like you. Lost a good man to one of those damn landmines."

Big Mac observed Cass silently, his expression unreadable. "What's your plan now?" he finally asked.

Cass looked around the rotunda, his eyes settling on the passage leading to the lower levels. "I need to find my team, make sure they're alright. I was just about to head deeper into the dungeon."

Sherman considered his words, the hostility slowly fading. "We're heading down too. We can keep an eye out for your team."

Cass nodded, a hint of relief in his eyes. "Thanks. I'd appreciate that."

As the group prepared to venture deeper into the dungeon, Sherman kept a wary eye on Cass. Despite their past, he couldn't leave another adventurer in distress. They were all in this together, facing the dangers of the Zaldion Dungeon.

Just as they were about to continue, they heard many footsteps coming towards them, the 4 man aimed their weapons at the sound, and then the people responsible appeared.

The sudden arrival of the Lulamoon familia added tension to the already charged atmosphere in the rotunda. Spike recognized them immediately. "The Lulamoon familia," he muttered under his breath.

Trixie, the ostentatious leader of the group, began with her usual flair, "It is us, the Lulamoon—" only to be cut off by Braeburn's impatient, "We know."

Trixie's attention quickly shifted to Cass, who was trying to explain his situation. "I tried to keep up with Duncan and Lux, but they just ran off, I have no idea where they—" His words were abruptly cut off as a blade suddenly struck him from behind, causing him to collapse to the ground.

"Everyone, defensive formation! You three, get closer!" commanded another member of the Lulamoon familia, as they swiftly formed a protective circle around the injured Cass.

From the shadows emerged a tall, pale-skinned man, holding something in his hands. With a chilling smile, he tossed the lifeless bodies of Lux and Duncan towards the group. Trixie struggled to maintain her composure, barely holding back her nausea.

"That's— That's the dungeon boss!" Spike exclaimed, recognizing the formidable figure.

Without hesitation, the Lulamoon familia opened fire, their attacks pelting the dungeon boss. Despite the barrage, the boss seemed barely affected, his high level rendering the assault almost insignificant.

"RUN!!!" Spike yelled, realizing the futility of their efforts. "WE ARE NO MATCH FOR HIM!" He urged everyone to retreat.

As Spike, Big Mac, and Braeburn were about to follow the others, the dungeon boss advanced, only to inadvertently step on one of the landmines they had marked earlier. The explosion caused him to recoil in pain, giving the group a momentary advantage.

Spike was about to comment on their unexpected luck when the floor beneath him, Big Mac, and Braeburn suddenly cracked open. Before they could react, they were falling into the darkness below.

As they plummeted, Sherman managed to grab onto his Endless Bag, pulling out a rope in a desperate attempt to slow their descent. Big Mac and Braeburn reached out, grabbing the rope as they fell through the void.

The fall seemed to last an eternity, the darkness enveloping them like a thick blanket. Finally, they landed with a thud on a lower level of the dungeon, the impact jarring but not lethal, thanks to Sherman's quick thinking.

Picking themselves up, they found themselves in an unknown part of the dungeon, far from the Lulamoon familia and the fearsome dungeon boss. They were alone, in uncharted territory, with no idea how to get back to the familiar paths of the upper levels.

They looked around and noticed that they were on what appeared to be a lake or sorts.

"Everyone okay?" Sherman asked, checking on his companions.

"Yeah, just a bit shaken," Braeburn replied, dusting himself off.

Big Mac simply nodded, his face set in a grim expression.

Sherman looked around, trying to get his bearings. "We need to find a way back up. But first, let's make sure we're safe here."

The three adventurers readied themselves, unsure of what lay ahead in this unexplored part of the Zaldion Dungeon. What had started as a quest for adventure had turned into a fight for survival. But together, they were determined to find their way back and face whatever challenges awaited them in the depths of the dungeon.

After a few more hours of looking around, the trio came back to the hole they had fallen through, a grim realization upon their faces.

“There is now way to make it back up,” Spike said as they all looked at each other, knowing full well, that their situation, was more than dangerous… and now, here they were, in a level no one has ever been to before, no map, no provisions, and with limited ammo for their weapons.
> G.U.C.C. Ch. 5 Floor 15: Hell's Lake
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the dimly lit depths of the Zaldion Dungeon, Sherman, Braeburn, and Big Mac regrouped, taking stock of their situation. Sherman quickly inventoried their supplies. "Alright, let's see what we have," he said, methodically checking through their gear.

"We've got three hunting knives, two machetes, 20 shotgun shells, 150 9mm bullets, and 274 bullets for the M-16 and AK-47," Sherman listed out. "We need to ration these carefully."

He handed the shotgun shells to Big Mac. "These are all yours, Mac. You're the only one here who uses a shotgun," he said, passing them over. Big Mac nodded, accepting the ammunition with a grunt of acknowledgment.

Sherman then divided the remaining bullets equally among the three of them. "We have to make every shot count," he emphasized, his tone serious.

With their weapons sorted, Sherman turned to the next pressing issue: "Now, we need to find drinking water and food. Let's split up and search this area, but stay within shouting distance. We can't afford to lose each other down here."

Braeburn nodded in agreement. "Good call, Spike. We should also look for any signs of a way back up. This level's uncharted, so who knows what we might find."

The trio split up, each taking a different direction while staying close enough to maintain visual contact. As they searched, the eerie silence of the dungeon was punctuated only by the sound of their footsteps and the occasional drip of water.

After a short while, Sherman's "Discernment" skill alerted him to a small, hidden spring nestled in a crevice. "Guys, over here!" he called out. "Found some water."

Braeburn and Big Mac quickly joined him, and together they collected the clear, cool water in their canteens. "Good find, Spike. This'll keep us going for a bit," Braeburn said with a relieved sigh.

Their next task was to find food. The dungeon was not known for its edible flora or fauna, but they hoped to find something to sustain them.

As they continued their search, Sherman pondered their situation. They were trapped in an unexplored part of a dangerous dungeon, with limited resources and no clear way out. Yet, he felt a sense of camaraderie and determination. They were a team, and together, they would find a way to survive and escape the depths of the Zaldion Dungeon.

The trio regrouped at their landing spot, the grim reality of their situation setting in. Without food and with the massive, ominous lake before them, their options were dwindling. As they contemplated their next move, Spike's gaze drifted upwards, and he noticed something alarming.

"No wonder no one had made it past floor 13... floor 14 is full of hydrogen sulfide," he observed, pointing to the faint yellowish haze above them. "No one can survive long in there."

Braeburn joined him, looking up at the toxic cloud. "Then a rescue mission is off the list. They won't risk it, not even with magic suits or potions," he agreed, his voice tinged with disappointment.

Big Mac, who had been checking his phone, chimed in with unexpected news. "Hey, guys, I've got cell service down here. I'm gonna call Stacy, let her know what happened. You gonna call Sarah?" he asked Braeburn.

"Yeah," Braeburn replied, already dialing his phone. "Better let her know we're in a bit of a pickle but safe for now."

The two cousins turned to Sherman. "What about you, Spike? Anyone you need to call?" Braeburn asked.

Sherman shook his head, a hint of sadness in his voice. "No, I... I have no one waiting for me back home," he admitted, feeling a pang of loneliness.

Braeburn and Big Mac exchanged glances, their expressions softening. "Well, you've got us now," Braeburn said, clapping Sherman on the shoulder. "We're your family down here."

Big Mac nodded in agreement. "Yup, we stick together."

Sherman managed a small smile, grateful for their camaraderie. As Braeburn and Big Mac spoke to their wives, updating them on the situation and reassuring them of their safety, Sherman couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging. He might not have had someone waiting for him outside the dungeon, but he had found companions who cared about him – a newfound family in the unlikeliest of places.

Braeburn dialed his wife Sarah's number, his hand shaking slightly as he held the phone to his ear. The line connected, and he heard her voice, filled with worry.

"Braeburn, is that you? Are you okay? I heard there was trouble in the Zaldion Dungeon," Sarah's voice trembled.

Braeburn took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady. "Yeah, it's me, honey. We're in a bit of a situation. We fell through to an uncharted level. But we're alive, we're safe for now."

There was a pause, and Braeburn could almost feel Sarah's relief through the phone. "Oh, thank goodness. But... What now? How are you getting out?"

"We're working on that. It's not gonna be easy, but I promise, I'm gonna make it back to you, Sarah. I have to."

"I know you will. Just... just be careful, please. I can't imagine life without you."

Braeburn's eyes welled up, his heart aching. "I'll be careful. I love you, Sarah. More than anything."

"I love you too. Just come back to me."

The call ended with a final, mutual declaration of love, leaving Braeburn staring at his phone, feeling the weight of his promise.

Big Mac, usually a man of few words, dialed his wife Stacy's number. When she answered, her voice was laced with panic.

"Mac! Are you alright? They said there was some kind of collapse in the dungeon!"

Big Mac cleared his throat, his usual stoicism struggling against the emotion in his voice. "I'm okay, Stace. But we're stuck in a part of the dungeon no one's been before. It's gonna take some doing to get out."

Stacy's voice broke. "You have to come back, Mac. Brian keeps asking when Daddy's coming home. I keep telling them soon, but... but I'm scared."

Big Mac felt a lump in his throat. "Tell 'im... tell 'im Daddy's on a big adventure, but he's gonna come home with stories to tell. I'm not gonna break my promise to you or him."

There was a soft sob from the other end. "Just... just come home, Mac. We need you."

"I will. I love you, Stace."

"I love you too."

The call ended, and Big Mac stood in silence, his resolve hardened by the love of his family waiting for him. He was determined to overcome whatever lay ahead in the dungeon. He had to make it back home.

After the heart-wrenching calls, the atmosphere among the trio was somber yet determined. Each of them was silently processing their conversations, the weight of their loved ones' words heavy on their hearts.

Sherman watched Braeburn and Big Mac, their expressions a mix of love, worry, and resolve. It was a stark reminder of the stakes they were all facing, not just in terms of their own survival, but the impact their absence would have on those they cared about.

Breaking the silence, Braeburn spoke up, his voice firm despite the emotion brimming beneath. "Alright, we can't just sit here. We need a plan to get out of this level and find our way back."

Big Mac nodded, his usual quiet demeanor now infused with a sense of urgency. "First thing's finding a way up. We keep an eye out for any passages or routes leading upwards."

Sherman, inspired by their resolve, added, "And we need to stay alert for more traps or any creatures lurking down here. We've got limited resources, so let's use them wisely."

The trio set out, their steps cautious but purposeful. The uncharted territory of the dungeon was a maze of darkness and danger, but they moved as a cohesive unit, their survival instincts and the bond they had formed guiding them.

As they navigated the treacherous terrain, they encountered pockets of strange flora, luminescent fungi casting an eerie glow, and small creatures that scurried away at their approach. The air was thick with the musty scent of damp earth and the faint, troubling whiff of sulfur from the floors above.

Despite the challenges, their spirits were buoyed by the camaraderie that had grown between them. They shared stories of past adventures, of loved ones waiting for them, and dreams for the future. These conversations became a lifeline, a reminder of why they needed to persevere and find their way out.

Hours passed, and though they had yet to find a way up, their determination did not waver. They were more than just a group of adventurers now; they were a team, bound by a shared goal and a commitment to each other's safety.

The hours stretched on, each minute blending into the next as the trio traversed the dark, unyielding depths of the dungeon. The absence of a clear path upwards left them with a growing sense of frustration and desperation. It was then that Sherman, or Spike as he was now known among his companions, had a sudden realization – a risky but potentially viable plan.

"Guys, I've been thinking," Sherman began, his voice echoing slightly in the vast underground chamber. "What if our best way out... is to go deeper?"

Braeburn and Big Mac stopped in their tracks, turning to face him with puzzled expressions.

"Deeper? You mean further into the dungeon?" Braeburn asked, skepticism clear in his tone.

Sherman nodded. "Exactly. Down to the boss room. If we can defeat the boss, we can use the teleportation circle. It's a standard feature in boss rooms. It could be our ticket out of here."

Big Mac's brow furrowed in thought. "That's a big 'if,' Spike. Bosses are no joke, especially in uncharted territory like this."

"I know it's risky," Sherman admitted, "but it might be our only shot. We're not finding another way out, and we can't stay down here forever."

Braeburn rubbed his chin, considering the plan. "It's a gamble, alright. But Spike might be onto something. If we're careful, plan our strategy right, we might pull it off."

The prospect of facing a dungeon boss was daunting. These creatures were notorious for their strength and cunning, and adventurers often prepared extensively before attempting such a challenge. Yet, here they were, considering diving headfirst into the unknown.

"We'll need to be at our best," Sherman added. "Every skill, every piece of knowledge we have could make the difference."

Big Mac nodded slowly, a determined glint in his eye. "If it's our best chance, then I'm in. Let's do it."

The decision was made, the trio began preparing for the encounter. They reviewed their inventory, checked their weapons, and discussed potential strategies. They knew the odds were against them, but the thought of returning to their loved ones fueled their resolve.

With their plan in place, the trio decided to set up a temporary camp on a small hill overlooking the lake. The still, dark waters of the lake reflected the faint glow of the bioluminescent fungi, creating an eerie, tranquil scene. Spike volunteered for the first watch, allowing Braeburn and Big Mac some much-needed rest.

As Braeburn and Big Mac settled down, Sherman activated his cheat console, eliminating the fatigue from his body to stay alert and vigilant. He then discreetly aimed the console at his companions, seeking a deeper understanding of the men he had come to regard as more than just fellow adventurers.

The information that appeared surprised and touched him. Braeburn, the eldest of six siblings, had married his childhood best friend. They were expecting their first child, a fact that filled Braeburn with a mix of joy and concern, especially now, being trapped in the dungeon.

Big Mac's story was different yet equally compelling. As the eldest of three, with parents often absent due to their work and adventures, he had taken on a lot of responsibility from a young age. His relationship with his wife began in high school, and they had a child soon after graduation, prompting a hasty marriage. Despite the challenges, their love was strong and unwavering.

What struck Sherman the most was the relationship status both men had with him. According to the console, they both regarded him with "pristine and true friendship and trust." It was a heartwarming revelation, and for the first time in a long while, Sherman felt a genuine sense of belonging and camaraderie.

A smile crept across his face as he looked at his sleeping companions. In the short time they had been together, they had formed a bond that went beyond mere survival. They had become a unit, a makeshift family forged in the fires of adversity.

As the night progressed, Sherman kept watch, his mind occasionally drifting to his own life before this adventure. He had often felt alone, disconnected from those around him. But now, in the depths of the Zaldion Dungeon, he had found a connection that was real and powerful.

As Sherman continued to explore the stats and skills of Braeburn and Big Mac through the console, he found himself both impressed and surprised. Braeburn, a level 134 adventurer, was A-rank – a testament to his experience and skill. His earth elemental magic, though not overwhelmingly strong at 50 out of 200 points, was still a significant asset.

Big Mac's stats were even more astounding. At level 175, he was an A+ rank adventurer. His earth magic was stronger than Braeburn's at 75 points, but it was his strength that truly stood out – a formidable 350 out of 1000 points.

In comparison, Sherman realized his own limitations. Without any magic and at only level 14, his highest stat was stamina, with 35 points. He couldn't help but feel a bit inadequate next to the impressive profiles of his companions.

Sherman's thoughts then turned to their skill sets. While both Braeburn and Big Mac had remarkable combat abilities, he noticed a gap in their survival skills – an area crucial for their current predicament. It was then that he discovered he could modify their skills through the console, a revelation that brought both frustration and relief.

Frustration, because he couldn't grant himself any new skills, a limitation of his powers that was becoming painfully apparent. But relief because he could still help his companions. "At least I can make us a bit more equipped for survival," he thought to himself.

He carefully selected and upgraded the necessary survival skills for Braeburn and Big Mac, enhancing their ability to navigate, forage, and endure the harsh conditions of the dungeon. "This should give us a better chance," he mused. "Especially if we're going to face the dungeon boss."

As Sherman sat in the quiet of the night, he reflected on his journey so far. "I may not be as strong or as skilled as Braeburn or Big Mac, but I have something unique – this console. It's more than just a tool; it's a responsibility."

He realized that his role in the group was not just to fight alongside them but to support them in ways they couldn't support themselves. "I may not be the typical adventurer, but I have my part to play," he thought, a newfound sense of purpose settling in.

As they sat, sharing their stories and forging a deeper bond, the environment around them began to shift ominously. The artificial moon that illuminated the dungeon's expansive cavern turned a deep, blood red, casting an eerie glow on their surroundings. The previously tranquil waters of the lake churned violently, forming large waves and daunting whirlpools. A strong, cold wind howled through the cavern, sending a shiver down their spines.

"Spike, what's happening?" Braeburn asked, his eyes scanning the suddenly hostile environment.

Sherman shook his head, equally puzzled and alarmed. "I don't know, but it's not good."

Big Mac gripped his shotgun tighter, his eyes fixed on the lake. "Something's coming."

No sooner had he spoken than a horrifying sight unfolded before their eyes. From the depths of the turbulent lake, scores of skeletons began to emerge. At first, there were hundreds, then thousands, and soon, what seemed like an unending army of skeletal warriors was advancing toward them.

"This is bad," Braeburn muttered, drawing his weapon. "Really bad."

Sherman nodded, his mind racing for a strategy. "We can't take them head-on. There are too many. We need to find a choke point, somewhere we can hold them off more effectively."

Big Mac pointed to a narrow passage leading away from the lake. "There. We can bottleneck them."

Without hesitation, the trio sprinted towards the passage, their footsteps echoing in the cavern as the skeletal army clattered behind them.

As they reached the narrow passage, Sherman turned to his companions. "We'll hold them off here as long as we can. Braeburn, you take the front. Big Mac, cover our flank. I'll provide ranged support."

Braeburn nodded, taking his position at the front of the passage. "Let's show these boneheads what we're made of."

The skeletons swarmed into the passage, their numbers overwhelming but constricted by the narrow space. Braeburn swung his weapon with precision, shattering bones with each strike. Big Mac's shotgun boomed, sending clusters of skeletons flying backward. Sherman fired his rifle in controlled bursts, taking down skeleton after skeleton.

“There are too many of them!” Braeburn yelled as he chained killed 2 skeletons with his machete and guns

Despite their valiant efforts, the skeletons kept coming, seemingly endless. Sherman realized they couldn't hold them off forever. "We need another plan. This won't hold them for long!"

As they fought, an idea began to form in his mind – a risky, but potentially effective strategy. He quickly shared it with Braeburn and Big Mac, who agreed it was their best shot.

In the narrow passage, a furious battle raged. Braeburn stood at the forefront, his weapon swinging in wide, deadly arcs. Each movement was precise and fluid, bones shattering under the force of his strikes. He moved like a dancer in a deadly ballet, his every step calculated and lethal.

Big Mac, positioned slightly behind, was a juggernaut. His shotgun roared repeatedly, its thunderous blasts echoing through the passage. Each pull of the trigger sent a spray of lead into the advancing skeletons, bones fragmenting and scattering. The sheer power of his shots created a buffer, momentarily halting the advance of the skeletal horde.

Sherman, taking up the rear, provided crucial ranged support. His rifle cracked sharply, each shot finding its mark. He moved with a calculated efficiency, conserving ammunition while ensuring maximum impact. His bullets tore through the skulls and joints of the skeletons, sending them clattering to the ground in pieces.

The skeletons, though numerous, were bottlenecked in the narrow passage, their numbers becoming a disadvantage. They clambered over each other, a relentless tide of bone and malice. Yet, for every skeleton that fell, another seemed to take its place, their ranks unending.

The air was thick with the sound of combat – the clash of metal, the crack of gunfire, and the brittle snap of breaking bone. Dust and bone fragments filled the air, creating a haze that added to the chaos of the battle.

Despite the ferocity of their defense, the trio began to tire. Braeburn's swings became slightly slower, Big Mac's shotgun blasts less frequent as he conserved ammunition. Sherman felt the strain in his arms, the continuous recoil of the rifle taking its toll.

"We can't keep this up forever!" Sherman yelled over the din of battle. "We need to push through!"

Braeburn nodded, understanding the urgency. "On my mark, we push forward. Big Mac, keep those blasts coming. Spike, cover us!"

Gathering their remaining strength, they prepared for a final, desperate push. Braeburn led the charge, plowing into the mass of skeletons with renewed vigor. Big Mac followed, his shotgun a thunderous companion in the melee. Sherman provided covering fire, picking off skeletons that came too close.

The skeletons, despite their numbers, began to falter under the ferocity of the trio's assault. Bone piles grew around them as they carved a path through the horde.

The passage was a whirlwind of violence and destruction, a testament to the trio's determination and skill. They fought not just for survival, but for something greater – a bond forged in the fires of adversity, a promise to return home to those they loved.

The battle in the narrow passage had reached a fever pitch. Despite the trio's valiant efforts, the skeletons seemed endless, their numbers inexhaustible. Braeburn's arms ached from the continuous swings, Big Mac's shotgun blasts were becoming less frequent as ammunition dwindled, and Sherman's precise shots were no longer enough to stem the tide of advancing bones.

"We can't hold them!" Sherman yelled, realizing the grim truth. "We need to fall back!"

Braeburn cast a quick glance over his shoulder, assessing their situation. "Retreat to the next floor!" he commanded, his voice echoing above the clatter of bones.

Big Mac nodded, reloading his shotgun for what ammunition remained. "Covering fire!" he bellowed, unleashing a barrage to create a momentary gap in the skeletal ranks.

Seizing the opportunity, the trio began their desperate retreat, moving as quickly as their weary bodies would allow. The passage behind them was a mass of writhing skeletons, a sea of death that seemed to stretch into infinity.

As they ran, Sherman kept firing, his shots more about delaying the skeletons than eliminating them. Braeburn, still leading, hacked at any skeletons that got too close, his movements now driven by sheer willpower rather than skill.

The path to the next floor was treacherous, littered with debris and the remains of previous battles. They stumbled and weaved their way through, the sounds of the pursuing horde a constant reminder of the peril at their heels.

Reaching the entrance to the next floor, they plunged into the unknown, the darkness swallowing them. The new floor was a labyrinth of narrow corridors and sudden drops, adding to the danger of their flight.

Despite the chaos, Big Mac managed to drop a few crude traps behind them – anything to slow their pursuers. But the skeletons, driven by some unseen force, continued their relentless pursuit, their empty eye sockets fixed on the living.

The corridors were a blur as they ran, the trio's breaths coming in ragged gasps. They turned corners blindly, relying on instinct and the faint, eerie light of the dungeon to guide them.

Finally, they emerged into a larger chamber, a brief respite from the constricted corridors. They paused, gasping for air, their backs against a cold, damp wall.

"We can't keep running forever," Braeburn panted, his eyes scanning for any other exits.

Sherman leaned against the wall, his mind racing for options. "We need a plan. Something to turn the tide."

Big Mac, ever the stoic, nodded in agreement. "We fight. Or we find another way out. No other choice."

The chamber, vast and echoing, became a temporary arena as Sherman, Braeburn, and Big Mac braced themselves for the next onslaught. The relentless wave of skeletons poured into the room, their bony fingers clutching rusted weapons.

"We need to find the stairs down!" Sherman shouted over the din, firing his rifle into the advancing horde. "Keep moving, and keep your eyes open!"

Braeburn, leading the way, slashed through the skeletons that blocked their path, his movements growing more desperate. "This way!" he called, spotting a potential exit on the far side of the chamber.

Big Mac followed, his shotgun booming in the confined space. The recoil shook his arms, but he pressed on, determined and unyielding.

They fought and maneuvered through the chamber, a dance of survival against overwhelming odds. Each skeleton they felled was replaced by another, the dungeon seemingly endless in its supply of the undead.

As they reached the exit Braeburn had spotted, their hopes were dashed. It was a dead end, a cruel trick of the dungeon's labyrinthine design.

"Back the way we came!" Sherman yelled, feeling a surge of panic. They retraced their steps, the skeletons pressing in from all sides.

The fight became a blur of motion and noise. Sherman's rifle clicked empty, and he switched to his hunting knife, stabbing and slashing. Braeburn's sword moves were now less about form and more about survival, each swing a desperate attempt to keep the skeletons at bay. Big Mac, out of shotgun shells, resorted to using the weapon as a blunt instrument, smashing skulls with brute force.

They were cornered again, their backs against a cold wall, the skeletons closing in. Sherman's heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing for solutions. "We can't keep this up!" he gasped.

Just then, Big Mac, fighting beside him, pointed to a section of the wall that seemed slightly different. "There!" he grunted. "Hidden passage!"

Without hesitation, Braeburn lunged at the wall, his sword finding a weak spot. The wall crumbled, revealing a narrow, hidden stairway leading downward.

"Go! Go! Go!" Braeburn shouted, pushing Sherman ahead of him.

The trio plunged into the stairway, the skeletons mere inches behind them. The passage was steep and treacherous, but they descended as quickly as they could, the sounds of the skeletons fading into the distance.

At the bottom of the stairs, they found themselves on a new floor, the air cooler and the darkness even more profound. They paused, catching their breath, listening for any signs of pursuit.

Big Mac quickly turned around and unleashed a powerful punch on the passage walls, causing the structure to collapse.

The group could hear the skeletons falling and their bodies shattering as they mindlessly continued to chase after them.

For the moment, they were safe, but they knew the respite would be brief. They were deeper in the dungeon now, in uncharted territory, with no idea what lay ahead. But they were alive, and as long as they had each other, they had a chance.

"We keep moving," Sherman said, his voice steady despite the exhaustion. "We find a way out. Together."

Braeburn and Big Mac nodded, their faces set with determination. The battle was far from over, but their resolve was unbroken. They would face whatever the dungeon had in store, side by side, as a team forged in the heat of battle.
> G.U.C.C. Ch. 6 Floor 16 "Descent to Hell"
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

After what felt like hours of walking, the trio arrived at what seemed like a courtyard of sorts, not sensing any immediate threats, they decided to take a breather.

The dimly lit courtyard offered a much-needed respite for Sherman, Braeburn, and Big Mac. Exhausted from the relentless battles and the stress of navigating the dungeon's treacherous depths, they welcomed the chance to rest. The courtyard, with its moss-covered stones and faintly glowing flora, felt almost serene compared to the chaos they had faced.

As they settled down, Braeburn and Big Mac began to review their stats, a routine check to assess their condition and progress. Sherman, however, hesitated. He was acutely aware of the cheat console hidden just beneath the surface of his actions, a secret he was desperate to keep.

"Spike, aren't you gonna check your stats too?" Braeburn asked, noticing Sherman's reluctance.

Sherman feigned ignorance. "I don't really know how," he lied, hoping to deflect their attention.

Braeburn, ever helpful, didn't think twice about Sherman's response. "Here, let me show you. It's pretty straightforward," he said, walking Sherman through the process as if he were explaining it to a novice.

When the stats screen appeared, revealing Sherman's level as 59 with a significant number of unspent skill points, the reaction from Braeburn and Big Mac was one of shock. "Holy... Spike, you're level 59? And look at all those skill points!" Braeburn exclaimed, his voice a mixture of astonishment and envy.

Sherman's heart raced. He quickly glanced at his cheat console, which still showed him at level 20. The discrepancy was startling, and he scrambled for an explanation that wouldn't reveal his secret. "I... I don't know how this happened," he stammered, feigning confusion.

Big Mac, usually quiet, couldn't hide his surprise. "That's... impressive. But why haven't you used any of those skill points?"

Sherman knew he had to tread carefully. "I guess I was just... saving them? I wasn't sure what skills to choose," he lied, hoping they would buy his explanation.

Braeburn looked at Sherman with a mix of skepticism and concern. "Spike, those skill points could make a huge difference for us down here. We should look at spending some of them now. It could be the edge we need."

Sherman nodded, agreeing reluctantly. "You're right. Let's see what we can do."

Together, they began to strategize, discussing which skills would be most beneficial for their journey. Sherman played along, making selections that aligned with his apparent stats, all the while aware of the delicate balance he was trying to maintain.

As they allocated the skill points, Sherman couldn't help but feel a growing sense of guilt for deceiving his friends. But the fear of revealing the cheat console and the potential consequences kept him silent.

The discrepancy in his stats remained a mystery to his companions, a curious anomaly in the depths of the dungeon. For Sherman, however, it was a stark reminder of the secret world he navigated alongside the reality of their dire situation.

As they agreed to let Sherman, or Spike as they knew him, spend some time alone to adjust his stats and distribute his skill points, Braeburn and Big Mac stepped away to give him some privacy. They found a quieter corner of the courtyard, their backs against the ancient, moss-covered stone, the soft glow of bioluminescent plants casting eerie shadows around them.

"I gotta say, Mac," Braeburn began, his voice low, "Spike's been holding his own pretty well for someone who's apparently been running on default settings this whole time."

Big Mac nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Yup. Makes you wonder, doesn't it? How much of it is about the skills you have, and how much of it is about the person using them."

Braeburn leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "True. I've seen plenty of adventurers with top-tier skills who didn't last a day because they lacked heart. Spike... he's got heart. And guts. More than most, I'd say."

There was a moment of silence as they both considered this. The dungeon, with all its dangers and mysteries, had a way of stripping away pretenses, revealing the true mettle of those who dared to traverse its depths.

"Remember when we got ambushed by those goblins on the third floor?" Big Mac asked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Spike didn't hesitate. Jumped right in, even though he was outmatched."

Braeburn chuckled, the memory clear in his mind. "Yeah, and when that trap was about to spring on us near the underground river. Spike spotted it just in time. Saved our hides."

They fell silent again, their thoughts on the journey they had shared so far. It was clear to both of them now that Spike's value as a member of their team went far beyond what any skill or stat could measure. His quick thinking, bravery, and willingness to put himself in harm's way for his friends had earned him a place of respect and gratitude in their hearts.

"You think he knows?" Braeburn finally asked, glancing in the direction they had left Spike.

"Knows what?" Big Mac replied.

"How much he's proven himself. That he's not just a tag-along. He's one of us, through and through."

Big Mac looked towards Spike's direction, his gaze softening. "He will. We'll make sure of it."

Meanwhile, Spike was looking over his skills like crazy, trying to make sense of everything, especially his skills, some of them were amazing, but they all held something that 



Physical Combat Skills - Rank A+ (Maximum potential Blocked)


(Current allowed potential) (C-)


Swordsmanship       850  (200)

Archery     850  (200)

Martial Arts     800  (200)

Axe Handling     600  (100)

Spear Mastery     500 (  59)

Shield Defense     450 (  40)

Dual Wielding 10000  (200)

Heavy Weaponry     700  (  99)

Unarmed Combat     780  (101)

Knife Fighting  10000 (500)

Critical Strike  10000 (500)



Magical Skills - Rank ?? (Maximum potential Blocked/Unknown)




Fire Magic

Ice Magic

Lightning Magic

Earth Magic

Wind Magic

Water Magic

Light Magic

Dark Magic

Healing Magic

Enchantment Magic

Illusion Magic

Summoning Magic

Telekinesis

Teleportation

Barrier Magic

Necromancy

Alchemy



Gun-Related Skills - Rank S+ (Maximum potential Blocked)


(Current allowed potential) (B-)


Marksmanship 100000 (1000)

Quick Reload 100000 (1000)

Gun Kata 150000 (Blocked)

Sniper Precision 100000 (1000)

Bullet Enchantment Unknown (Blocked)

Dual Pistols 200000 (2000)

Shotgun Mastery 200000 (1300)

Rifle Mastery 500000 (5000)

Tactical Retreat 100000 (1000)



Survival Skills - Rank S (Maximum potential Blocked)


(Current allowed potential) (B-)


Tracking 100000 (1000)

Hunting 100000 (1000)

Foraging 100000 (1000)

Stealth 200000 (2000)

Trap Setting 200000 (2000)

Navigation 200000 (2000)

First Aid 200000 (2000)

Endurance 100000 (1000)

Climbing 100000 (1000)

Swimming 500000 (5000)



Support Skills - Rank S++




Team Coordination 500000

Morale Boost 500000

Equipment Maintenance 500000

Cooking 500000

Bartering 500000

Languages 500000

Historical Knowledge 500000

Magical Lore Unknown

Animal Handling 200000

Diplomacy 500000

Intimidation 100000



Specialized Skills - Rank Unknown (Maximum potential Blocked)




Elemental Resistance 

Poison Resistance

Crafting

Smithing

Enchanting

Lock Picking 200000 (2000)

Disguise

Detection 200000 (2000)

Aura Reading

Dimensional Magic

Time Manipulation

Gravity Control

Sherman sat alone, the glow from his console illuminating his perplexed expression. As he scrolled through his stats and skills, the disparity between what his friends saw and what he could access gnawed at him. "Level 59," he whispered to himself, a mixture of awe and confusion in his voice. Yet, here on his own console, he was only level 20, and many of the skills that should have been available to him at such a high level were inexplicably locked, only a fraction accessible.

"Why is this happening?" he pondered aloud, his mind racing with theories. "Is the console limiting me for some reason? Or is it protecting me from something I'm not ready to handle?"

He considered the unspent skill points, an abundance that was both a blessing and a curse. The possibilities these points represented were vast, yet the limitations imposed on him felt like invisible shackles, holding him back from his true potential.

"It doesn't make any sense. If I have these abilities, why can't I use them?" Sherman's frustration grew as he delved deeper into the console's mechanics, searching for any clue that might explain the discrepancy.

The realization that his journey and growth had been, in some way, manipulated or restricted by the console left Sherman feeling conflicted. On one hand, the console had been his lifeline, offering him abilities and opportunities he never would have had otherwise. On the other, the revelation that not all was as it seemed cast a shadow over his achievements.

"Is my strength really my own, or is it just the result of some... game?" The question lingered in his mind, a bitter taste in his mouth. The pride he had felt in his accomplishments now seemed tainted, his victories less his own.

Yet, as he stewed in his confusion and doubt, Sherman remembered the moments when his actions, his decisions, had made a real difference. Saving the little girl from the accident, standing by Braeburn and Big Mac against insurmountable odds, making the choice to protect and fight alongside his friends—these were not the results of stats or skills. They were the manifestations of his character, his will.

"Maybe it's not about the numbers or the abilities," Sherman concluded, a sense of resolve cutting through the fog of his doubts. "It's about what I choose to do with them. It's about who I am when the chips are down."

With a renewed sense of purpose, Sherman decided to focus on what he could control. He carefully selected skills that complemented his natural strengths and the needs of his team, investing his available points where they would make the most difference. The locked abilities remained a mystery, but Sherman chose to view them as goals, not limitations—a reminder that there was still room to grow, still challenges to overcome.

In the quiet corner of the courtyard, Sherman, now more composed but still brimming with questions, opened his cheat console once more. This time, he navigated to a feature he seldom used: the "chat" option. He hesitated for a moment before typing his message.

"Spike: What's going on with my stats and abilities? Why are there two different stat screens?"

After a brief pause, a response appeared, the words materializing on the screen as if by magic.

"God: Spike, it's good that you're asking questions. The blue stat screen you see represents your true level and abilities as they naturally develop. The red screen, however, shows what I've come to call your 'God Level.' It's a potentiality, a measure of what you could achieve with divine intervention."

Spike's fingers hovered over the console, his mind racing to process the information.

"Spike: Why are so many abilities locked? And what's the difference between the skills on the blue screen and the stat multipliers on the red screen?"

"God: The abilities are locked to protect you, Spike. Your body and mind must adapt gradually to the powers granted to you. It would be both dangerous and irresponsible to unlock them all at once. As for the screens, the blue screen shows actual skills and abilities you've earned or can potentially learn through experience and training. The red screen, on the other hand, offers stat multipliers, enhancing your natural capabilities beyond the normal limits."

"Spike: So, the red screen boosts my stats to what you call 'God Level'? But I can't just use those boosts without consequences?"

"God: Precisely. The 'God Level' represents a ceiling of potential. However, reaching for that ceiling without preparation could have... undesirable effects. It's not just about physical or magical strength; it's about understanding and responsibility. You're being shaped to handle these gifts with care."

"Spike: And the others? Can they see this 'God Level'? Why did it show up when Braeburn and Big Mac checked my stats?"

"God: They saw a glimpse because I allowed it, a nudge for you to start exploring these questions. But normally, no. This level of insight is for you alone. It's part of your journey, Spike, understanding the balance between power and restraint, potential and realization."

Sherman leaned back, absorbing the weight of God's words. The revelation of the "God Level" and the distinction between the screens added layers of complexity to his journey he hadn't anticipated. Yet, it also clarified the path he needed to take.

"Spike: I understand. Or at least, I'm starting to. I'll be careful with how I use these abilities. And the locked skills... I'll work towards unlocking them responsibly."

"God: That's all I ask, Spike. You're on a unique path, one that holds great promise but also significant challenges. Remember, the strength you seek should be matched by the wisdom to wield it."

The conversation ended, leaving Sherman with much to ponder. He realized his adventure was not just about survival or proving himself. It was a test of character, a journey of growth that demanded not just physical strength but wisdom, responsibility, and a deep understanding of the true nature of power.

With that Spike turned to look at all the potential perks that he could learn as an adventurer, somewhere really eye catching, however, he knew that for the most part they were off-limits:



Tier C - Common Perks (Level 10 skill perk required for full mastery)




Steady Hand: Improved accuracy with ranged weapons.

Durable: Slightly increased resistance to physical damage.

Quick Healer: Slightly faster health regeneration.

Lightfoot: Reduced noise from movement, enhancing stealth.

Economist: Decreased resource usage for spells and abilities.



Tier B - Uncommon Perks (Level 10 skill perk required for full mastery/ Not available until Tier C full mastery)




Enhanced Vision: Ability to see in low light conditions.

Elemental Resistance: Reduced damage from a chosen element.

Second Wind: One-time health boost when critically injured.

Packrat: Increased carrying capacity.

Trap Sense: Increased ability to detect and disarm traps.



Tier A - Rare Perks (Level 10 skill perk required for full mastery/ Not available until Tier B full mastery)




Critical Master: Increased chance of landing a critical hit.

Swift Cast: Reduced casting time for spells.

Evasion: Increased dodge chance against attacks.

Animal Companion: Ability to bond with and summon a creature companion.

Resourceful: Ability to craft items and gear with minimal resources.



Tier S - Superior Perks (Level 100 skill perk required for full mastery/ Not available until Tier A full mastery)




Aura of Courage: Boosts morale and resistance for the team in battle.

Magic Affinity: Greatly enhanced power and efficiency for a chosen magic type.

Regeneration: Health slowly regenerates during battle.

Immovable: Increased resistance to being knocked back or downed.

Precise Strike: Attacks bypass a portion of enemy armor.



Tier L - Legendary Perks (Level 1000 skill perk required for full mastery/ Not available until Tier S full mastery or Divine Blessing granted)




Time Dilation: Ability to slow time for brief periods.

Elemental Fury: Unleash a powerful attack based on your elemental affinity.

Phantom Step: Briefly become intangible to avoid damage.

Soul Link: Share health and mana with a chosen ally.

Rebirth: Revive once upon death with partial health in battle.

Spike quickly used up all his skill points to fully master the Tier C skills, and just like that his level bumped up from 59 to 65, the other skill points he spent on Tier B skills, but then he realized that he still had a long way to go.

It was here when Spike looked at the Perks in the cheat console and noticed that most of the skills were blocked or locked, however, there was something that caught his attention even more… One of the branches of the skill tree was completely unlocked and with the words “IN EFFECT” next to them:



Basic Cheat Perks




Infinite Stamina: Never tire, no matter the activity.

Bottomless Quiver: Ranged weapons never run out of ammunition (Guns and throwables included)

Unbreakable: Weapons and armor never degrade or require repair.

Instant Recall: Ability to teleport to any previously visited location.

XP Multiplier x2: Experience points gained are doubled. (In effect)



Intermediate Cheat Perks




Shadow Walk: Become invisible and intangible for short periods.

Elemental Immunity: Total immunity to a chosen elemental damage.

Mind Shield: Immunity to all forms of mental control and illusions.

Critical Overflow: Every attack lands as a critical hit.

XP Multiplier x5: Experience points gained are quintupled. (In effect)



Advanced Cheat Perks




Time Freeze: Ability to stop time for everyone but yourself.

Clone: Create an identical copy of yourself to fight alongside you.

Absolute Barrier: A shield that negates any damage from a single attack.

Infinite Mana: Cast spells without ever depleting your mana reserves.

XP Multiplier x10: Experience points gained are decoupled. (In effect)



Master Cheat Perks




Reality Warp: Change minor aspects of reality to suit your needs.

Resurrection: Automatically revive upon death with full health and mana.

Alter Fate: Rewind time to avoid a fatal outcome once per day.

Dimensional Pocket: Access to a private pocket dimension for storage.

XP Multiplier x20: Experience points gained are multiplied by twenty. (In effect)



God-Tier Cheat Perks




Creation: Ability to create anything from nothing, limited by the user's understanding and energy.

Omniscience: Gain complete knowledge of the current realm or world.

Absolute Command: Bend the will of others, compelling obedience.

Eternal Youth: Cease to age, maintaining peak physical and mental condition.

Unlimited XP Multiplier: Experience points gained are unlimited, ensuring immediate leveling up. (In effect)

Puzzled and concerned about the implications, he decided to reach out to God once more through the chat feature.

"Spike: I noticed the XP Multipliers are active. Did you enable this? It seems like it could unbalance things."

After a brief moment, God's response appeared on the screen, carrying a tone of surprise and confusion.

"God: That wasn't my doing, Spike. It sounds like a glitch. The system wasn't designed to activate those multipliers without direct intervention."

"Spike: A glitch? Is that... bad? Can it be fixed?"

"God: In the grand scheme, it's not catastrophic, but it's not supposed to happen. Fixing it, however, is beyond my current capabilities. The system is complex, and without understanding the root cause of the glitch, tampering could make things worse."

"Spike: So, what should I do? Just leave it?"

"God: For now, yes. Use this anomaly to your advantage. I trust you to remain responsible with the power it grants you. Remember, the essence of your journey is not in the speed of your progression but in the experiences and growth along the way."

"Spike: Understood. I'll be careful. But, if it's a glitch, could there be more?"

"God: It's possible. Keep an eye out for anything else unusual. This could be an indicator of deeper issues within the system. Notify me if you find anything."

"Spike: Will do. Thanks."

The conversation ended, leaving Sherman with mixed feelings. The unintentional boost in his progression could be beneficial, but the revelation that the system was not infallible added a new layer of uncertainty to his journey. It was a reminder that even divine designs could have flaws.

As he rejoined Braeburn and Big Mac, Sherman decided not to mention the glitch. There was no need to burden them with the complexities of his unique situation. Instead, he focused on the task at hand, using his newfound advantage to strengthen their chances of survival and success.

As the trio made their way through the sprawling expanse of the courtyard, the sense of calm was pierced by Big Mac's observation. "We're down to our last magazines and shells," he said, his voice low but carrying the weight of their precarious situation. The moonlight cast long shadows over the group, highlighting the seriousness of their ammunition shortage.

Braeburn, always quick to assess and adapt, responded with a decisive tone. "Then we change our approach. Stealth or run, but no fighting unless we're left with no other choice." His eyes scanned the courtyard, already mapping out potential paths that utilized cover and shadows to their advantage.

Sherman nodded in agreement. The revelation about the XP multiplier glitch still fresh in his mind, he understood the importance of conserving their resources, now more than ever. "Stealth sounds like our best bet. We've managed to get this far; let's not get reckless now."

The three of them took a moment to redistribute the remaining ammunition, ensuring that each had an equal share, albeit meager. They checked their weapons, securing them to avoid any unnecessary noise, and agreed on hand signals to communicate silently as they moved.

Big Mac, usually the man of few words, added, "Keep an eye out for anything we can use—traps, environmental hazards. Anything that can give us an edge without having to fire a shot."

Sherman felt a surge of appreciation for his companions' adaptability and resolve. The challenges they faced seemed to only strengthen their determination and unity. "Let's keep close," he suggested. "If we run into trouble, we'll need to rely on more than just firepower to get out of it."

As they set off, moving with deliberate caution, the courtyard transformed from a serene, if eerie, vista into a landscape fraught with potential danger. Every shadow could conceal a threat, every rustle of the wind might herald an ambush. Yet, amidst this tension, there was also a sense of exhilaration—the thrill of relying on their wits and each other to navigate the dangers that lay ahead.

Their journey through the courtyard became a testament to their growth as adventurers. No longer were they solely dependent on brute force or magical prowess. They had become a cohesive unit, capable of adapting to the challenges they faced with a combination of stealth, strategy, and mutual trust.

The night wore on, the moon tracing its path across the sky, as Sherman, Braeburn, and Big Mac made their way through the darkened landscape.

The trio had been walking for what felt like an eternity, the monotony of the courtyard blending each moment into the next, their senses dulled by fatigue and the unchanging landscape. Braeburn's complaints about their seemingly endless trek only served to amplify the sense of disorientation gripping them.

"It feels like we're walking in circles," Braeburn grumbled, his frustration evident. "This place is playing tricks on us."

It was then that Spike spotted something unusual—a small hut off to the right of their path, its silhouette barely discernible in the moonlight. "Look over there," he said, pointing towards the mysterious structure. "Maybe we can find some supplies or at least get a moment's respite."

Braeburn immediately tensed, his instincts on high alert. "Hold up, Spike. That could be a trap. This dungeon has been full of surprises, and not the good kind."

Despite Braeburn's warning, Sherman felt an inexplicable pull towards the hut. "We need to check it out. We can't pass up the chance of finding something useful." His voice carried a mix of curiosity and determination.

Big Mac, who had been quietly scanning their surroundings, finally spoke up. "Let's approach with caution. If it feels off, we back out. Agreed?"

Sherman nodded, grateful for the support. "Agreed. Let's be careful."

The trio advanced towards the hut, their senses heightened and weapons ready. As they neared, the details of the structure became clearer—it was modest, made of old, weathered wood, with a thatched roof. There was no sign of movement or light from within.

Reaching the door, Sherman paused, listening for any sounds from inside. Silence. He glanced back at Braeburn and Big Mac, receiving a nod from both, before gently pushing the door open.

The interior was surprisingly mundane—a single room with a small table, a couple of chairs, and a fireplace, cold and unused. Dust motes danced in the sliver of moonlight filtering through a small window. It was devoid of occupants, seeming to have been abandoned for some time.

Braeburn entered behind Sherman, his earlier apprehension giving way to curiosity. "Doesn't look like much. But it doesn't feel like a trap either."

Big Mac surveyed the room, his eyes landing on a small shelf with a few items. "Let's see if there's anything we can use. But stay alert."

As they searched the hut, the tension began to ebb away, replaced by a cautious optimism. The hut offered a brief respite from the constant vigilance required outside its walls.

"Found some dried herbs and a couple of water skins," Big Mac announced, holding up his findings.

Braeburn, rummaging through a small chest, added, "And here are some candles and matches. Might come in handy."

Sherman felt a sense of relief wash over him. The hut, rather than a trap, had become a small sanctuary, providing them with minor but essential supplies. "Looks like our detour paid off," he said, allowing himself a small smile.

As they prepared to leave, Braeburn clapped Sherman on the back. "Good call, Spike. I'm glad we checked it out."

The moment before their departure from the hut was marked by an unexpected turn of events. Big Mac, drawn by curiosity, had wandered over to a seemingly innocuous bookshelf. He reached out to examine one of the books, his movements sluggish with the weight of exhaustion that had crept upon him during their prolonged exploration. As his hand sought support against the wall, it pressed against a hidden mechanism, and with a surprising ease, a section of the wall gave way, sending him stumbling forward into the darkness beyond.

Sherman rushed over, concern etched on his face, only to find Big Mac picking himself up off the floor of a hidden chamber. "You okay, Mac?" Sherman asked, peering into the newly revealed space.

"Nothing hurt but my pride," Big Mac replied, dusting himself off as he took stock of his surroundings.

Braeburn joined them, his eyes widening at the sight before them. The chamber was filled with shelves lined with ancient tomes, vials of mysterious liquids, and an assortment of strange artifacts. At the center stood a large, ornate table, its surface cluttered with parchments and arcane instruments.

"A Warlock's den," Sherman murmured, the realization dawning on him as he stepped into the chamber. The air was thick with the scent of old paper and herbs, a tangible sense of magic permeating the space.

Big Mac and Braeburn looked around, awe mingling with a cautious curiosity. "This place is incredible," Braeburn whispered, his voice filled with wonder. "Think of the knowledge contained here."

They moved deeper into the chamber, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten as they explored the warlock's den. Sherman picked up a parchment, the script on it unfamiliar but unmistakably magical. Big Mac examined a series of vials, their contents shimmering in the dim light.

"This could be the break we've been looking for," Sherman said, excitement creeping into his voice. "There might be something here that can help us."

Braeburn nodded, carefully leafing through an ancient tome. "Or something that could give us an edge against the dungeon's challenges."

As they searched, the realization that they had stumbled upon something truly extraordinary began to sink in. This hidden chamber, this warlock's den, was a treasure trove of magical knowledge and artifacts, untouched and waiting to be explored.

"We need to be careful," Big Mac cautioned, his gaze lingering on a particularly ominous-looking artifact. "Places like this are usually protected."

Acknowledging the wisdom in Big Mac's words, they proceeded with caution, aware that their discovery could come with its own set of dangers. Yet, the potential rewards—the secrets of magic and power that lay within the warlock's den—were too enticing to ignore.

Their initial plan to push forward through the dungeon was momentarily set aside as they delved into the mysteries of the chamber. For Sherman, Braeburn, and Big Mac, the warlock's den offered not just a respite from their journey but a new path, one that could lead them to answers and abilities beyond their imagination. The night's unexpected detour had turned into an opportunity, and they were determined to make the most of it.

he discovery was unexpected, a secret chamber hidden within the mundane.

Braeburn, ever the cautious one, eyed the various spell books and vials filled with swirling, mysterious liquids. "Let's not touch anything we don't understand. This place... it feels like it's been untouched for ages."

As they explored, their attention was drawn to the myriad of artifacts and tomes scattered throughout the room, each item whispering tales of forgotten lore and dark arts. Despite the allure, they heeded Braeburn's warning, careful not to disturb the delicate balance of the room.

Big Mac, however, driven by the gnawing hunger that had been their constant companion, stumbled upon a box that seemed out of place among the ancient relics. It was a small, somewhat modern-looking container that appeared to function like a refrigerator, chilling its contents—a collection of strange-looking "candies."

"Just one won't hurt, right?" Big Mac mused aloud, his hunger momentarily overshadowing his judgment. He reached for one of the candies, eyeing it as a much-needed reprieve from their exhaustive journey.

Before he could reconsider, a loose photoframe tumbled from a shelf, its sudden crash startling Big Mac. The candy, propelled by his startled reaction, launched directly towards Sherman, who had just turned at the sound, his mouth open in surprise.

"What was that?" Spike managed, just as the candy flew into his mouth, causing him to choke momentarily.

Braeburn and Big Mac rushed to his aid, thumping him on the back as Spike coughed, the candy finally dislodging, swallowing it and allowing him to breathe normally again.

"Are you okay, Spike?" Braeburn asked, concern etched on his face as he watched Sherman catch his breath.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Spike assured them, though still recovering from the shock. "Of all the ways I thought I might go in this dungeon, choking on a warlock's candy wasn't one of them."

Big Mac, relief washing over him as Spike seemed alright, couldn't help but chuckle. "Guess we found out the hard way that even food in here can be a hazard."

The trio shared a moment of light-hearted relief amidst the tense atmosphere of the warlock's den, the incident with the candy serving as a bizarre but effective reminder of the unpredictability of their surroundings.

"Let's stick to the plan—no touching, and definitely no eating anything else we find in here," Braeburn stated, the levity fading as he returned to his role as the cautious voice of reason.

Agreeing, they continued their exploration of the den, now more wary of the potential dangers hidden within the seemingly innocuous objects around them.

After their unexpected detour into the warlock's den, the trio found a secluded corner of the lab, a spot seemingly untouched by time and decay, offering a semblance of safety in the otherwise ominous environment. Exhaustion weighed heavily on them, their bodies and minds pushed to the brink after the day's trials.

Sherman, feeling the effects of their relentless journey more acutely, began to experience unsettling symptoms as he tried to settle down. A wave of dizziness washed over him, accompanied by an unexplained sweat that drenched his brow. Initially attributing it to sheer fatigue, he resolved to sleep, hoping rest would alleviate his condition.

However, hours into their uneasy slumber, Sherman's body underwent a startling reaction. His temperature soared as if his very blood were boiling, causing him to convulse briefly under the strain of incredible, searing pain. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced, a transformative agony that gripped him to his core.

When the pain subsided as suddenly as it had arrived, Sherman sat up, gasping for air, his heart pounding in his chest. The first thing he noticed was the change in his skin—it looked tougher, almost like it had been infused with a new resilience. Touching his arm, he felt the heat radiating from his body, an unnatural warmth that seemed to emanate from within.

Despite the alarming changes, exhaustion and a newfound sense of calm urged him to dismiss the incident for the moment. "Probably just a weird side effect of that candy," he reasoned, though in the back of his mind, he knew it was something far more significant.

Choosing to address the mystery in the morning, Sherman lay back down, his body still radiating an unusual heat, and drifted back into a restless sleep. The night passed without further incident, and by the time dawn's first light began to filter into the lab, Sherman awoke feeling different—stronger, somehow, and more vital than before, though the reason behind these changes eluded him.

As Braeburn and Big Mac stirred awake, Sherman contemplated whether to share the night's events with them. Deciding against it for the time being, not wanting to add to their burdens, he kept the experience to himself.

"Morning," he greeted his companions, his voice steady, betraying none of the turmoil that had gripped him hours before.

"You okay, Spike? You look... different," Braeburn noted, eyeing him with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Just a rough night," Sherman replied, offering a reassuring smile. "Let's focus on finding a way out of here."

As they prepared to leave the warlock's den behind, Sherman couldn't shake the feeling that the transformation he had undergone was just the beginning. The path ahead was fraught with unknowns, but with his newfound resilience, he felt an ember of hope that they might just overcome whatever challenges lay in wait.

The journey through the dungeon continued, the trio bound by a shared determination to survive and a growing sense of kinship that no darkness could diminish. Unbeknownst to his companions, Spike now carried within him a secret, a change that could alter the course of their adventure in ways none of them could foresee.

Emerging from the warlock's den, the trio barely had a moment to enjoy their newfound freedom before a thunderous rumbling filled the air. They froze, turning towards the source of the noise, only to witness a sight that sent a chill down their spines—a massive stampede of creatures, a chaotic flurry of claws, fur, and fangs, barreling towards them with terrifying speed.

Instinctively, their hands went to their weapons, ready to stand their ground, when Sherman's sharp eyes caught sight of a familiar figure orchestrating the madness. It was the tall, maniacally smiling entity they had encountered before—the Goliath that had nearly spelled their doom in the dungeon's depths.

"RUN!" Sherman's voice cut through the panic, sharp and commanding. Without a second thought, the trio turned on their heels and sprinted away, their hearts pounding in their chests as they fled the oncoming horde.

The Goliath, upon noticing their escape, let out a blood-curdling scream, a sound so filled with rage and malice it seemed to shake the very ground beneath them. The creatures in the stampede, spurred on by the Goliath's fury, increased their pace, closing the distance with terrifying speed.

Sherman, Braeburn, and Big Mac pushed their bodies to the limit, dodging obstacles and leaping over chasms in the rugged terrain. Their lungs burned with the effort, and their muscles screamed in protest, but the fear of being caught by the stampede—or worse, the Goliath—drove them forward.

As they ran, Sherman could feel the changes in his body responding to the crisis. His legs pumped with more power than before, his stamina seemingly bottomless despite the grueling pace. Glancing at Braeburn and Big Mac, he saw determination etched on their faces, their own survival instincts kicking in to outrun the nightmare behind them.

The chase seemed to stretch on forever, the sounds of the stampede a constant threat at their backs. Just when it seemed they might be overtaken, the terrain ahead opened up, revealing a narrow canyon that funneled into a tight passage.

"This way!" Sherman yelled, veering towards the canyon. It was a risk—the passage could be a dead end—but it was a chance they had to take.

The canyon walls rose high on either side, the passage narrowing until it was just wide enough for them to pass through single file. The sound of the stampede dimmed as they navigated the tight space, the creatures unable to follow them into the narrow confines.

Behind them, they could hear the beasts screeching in pain as they were either trampled on by their own kin, squashed by the goliath or thrown into the air by him.

Spike and the guys kept running, Big Mac and Braeburn getting further and further away from Spike as they kept running for their lives down the canyon.

Then, up ahead, they all noticed that the canyon closed off, a massive doorway being the only thing that showed that the trail kept going.

Braeburn was the first one to rush through the doorway, but immediately fell to the floor to stop dead in his tracks as the pathway before him ended, showing a nothing but a deep fall

“STOP!” he yelled as Spike and Big Mac crossed the doorway

“OVER THERE!” Spike said as he pointed at the side, showing the start of what seemed to be a ramp or spiral walkway down into the abyss.

Braeburn and Big Mac immediately started to run down the pathway as Spike turned around and opened fire against the approaching Stampede and goliath, killing many creatures and hitting the goliath in on of it’s eyes before starting to run down the pathway, sprinting faster than he had ever sprinted, catching up to Big Mac who was only a few milliseconds faster than him, while Braeburn had become the definition of “Booking it!” as he was almost 50 ft in front of them.

As they continued to run they started to see many of the creatures plummeting down the abyss, letting out screeches of fear as they did, but it wasn’t long before the creatures took notice and started to rush down the same pathway the trio were on.

That is when Big Mac made a terrible mistake, trying to  look back and see if some of the beasts were catching up, he got disoriented and lost his footing over the edge of the pathway.

Time slowed down as he began to accept his fate when he felt someone grab him by the arm and hoist him up, throwing him forwards a couple of feet.

It was Spike, who was running right behind him, he noticed he was about to fall over and caught him before it was too late.

“WHAT DRUGS ARE YOU ON SPIKE?!!” Braeburn yelled from in front of them, noticing how, once again, Spike had saved their ass from certain death

“Thank you!” Big Mac said as he calmed down

“KEEP RUNNING!!!” Spike yelled as he ran past Big Mac

Big Mac took a few more breaths, just as he got up, he noticed the creatures getting closer, and so he opened fire, killing several of them with his shotgun, even bringing down a pillar on top creating a new obstacle; with that he started to run as fast as he could, quickly catching up to Spike.

“DO YOU SEE THE END?!!” Spike yelled at Braeburn 

“NO!, IT’S PITCH BLACK!!!” he yelled back

Just then, they heard the wall above them crumble as the goliath came crashing straight through the doorway, however, due to the clutter of corpses and the injury to one of its eyes thanks to Spike, the goliath’s was having trouble running, and was unable to notice the abrupt end to the walkway, and so, it plummeted over the edge.

Time slowed down as the massive goliath fell down the dark abyss, just as it was passing by Spike and the group, it’s eye moved and made contact with Spike’s, his maniacal smile crept into a diabolical smirk as it fell.

“What the fuck?!” Spike thought as the goliath disappeared into the darkness.

Seconds later, the ground below them started to shake uncontrollably, causing a massive gust of wind that demolished the pillar of the walkway, causing it to collapse.

Seconds later, Spike, Big Mac and Braeburn were all sent flying when the gust of wind blew away the part of the pathway they were on.

The screams of fear and desperation being all that could be heard as they fell into the darkness below.
> G.U.C.C. Ch. 7 Floor 17 "Ascensionism... A God on earth"
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

HOURS LATER

Regaining his senses, Spike, could hardly believe the sight that greeted him upon awakening. The terrifying visage of the Goliath, now lifeless, loomed over him, its manic grin frozen in death. The eye, still seemingly fixed on him, sent a shiver down his spine, propelling him into action. In a moment of panic, he scrambled backward, only to find himself tumbling into the abyss below, the darkness they once saw, hiding this lake from their eyes as they ran for their lives.

The shock of the cold water snapped him back to reality. Expecting pain or the crunch of bones, he was surprised to find himself completely unharmed. Treading water, he noticed an eerie green glow emanating from the depths, bathing him in its light. Curiosity piqued, Sherman activated his cheat screen, directing its analysis towards the mysterious luminescence.

"Phoenix tears: the greatest natural health potion ever found in the pureness of the world," the screen informed him. The revelation brought both relief and wonder. The water's healing properties had spared him from injury, a stroke of luck—or perhaps fate—that he couldn't ignore.

Climbing out of the lake, Sherman's thoughts immediately turned to Braeburn and Big Mac. He found them nearby, still unconscious but, to his relief, breathing steadily. The healing effects of the Phoenix tears had reached them as well, ensuring their survival against all odds.

As he knelt beside them, checking for any signs of distress, Sherman felt a profound sense of gratitude. "Thank you," he whispered to the lake, to the unknown forces that had protected them.

Once Braeburn and Big Mac began to stir, Sherman helped them to their feet, explaining what had transpired. "You're not going to believe this, but we fell into a lake of Phoenix tears," he said, gesturing towards the glowing water.

Braeburn, rubbing his head, looked around in bewilderment. "Phoenix tears? As in the legendary healing potion?" Disbelief was evident in his voice, but the proof was undeniable—their wounds had vanished, and they felt stronger than before.

Big Mac, usually stoic, allowed a rare smile to cross his lips. "Guess we got lucky. Or maybe someone's looking out for us."

The trio took a moment to collect themselves, drinking in the serene beauty of the lake that had been their savior. The daunting challenges they had faced seemed a world away, overshadowed by the miraculous reprieve they had been granted.

"Spike, how did you know what this water was?" Braeburn asked, curiosity piqued.

Sherman hesitated, the secret of his cheat console weighing heavily on him. "Just a lucky guess," he lied, not ready to reveal the truth. "But we should fill our water skins. Who knows when we'll find something like this again?"

As they prepared to leave the lakeside, their spirits buoyed by the miraculous healing they had experienced, Sherman couldn't help but feel that their journey had taken a significant turn. The presence of the Phoenix tears, the defeat of the Goliath—all of it pointed towards a destiny far greater than any of them had imagined.

With renewed determination, they set off once more, leaving the lake and its mysteries behind. The path ahead was uncertain, fraught with danger and darkness, but they faced it together, united by a bond forged in the fires of adversity and strengthened by the healing waters of the Phoenix tears.

The miraculous reprieve offered by the Phoenix tears was quickly overshadowed by the realization of their new predicament. The trio found themselves at the mouth of an expansive cavern system, its dark maw promising a labyrinth of unknown challenges. The sheer vastness of it, coupled with their complete lack of a map, painted a grim picture of the potential to wander aimlessly—or worse, become hopelessly lost within its depths.

As they surveyed the entrance, the weight of their situation began to sink in. Big Mac, ever the pragmatist, took stock of their supplies, his findings only adding to their concerns. "We're out of ammo," he announced, his voice tinged with a somber resignation. He held up Braeburn's rifle, now rendered useless without bullets, a reminder of their vulnerability. "And Braeburn's rifle is now a very expensive and heavy puzzle."

Braeburn, inspecting his beloved but now ineffective weapon, sighed heavily. "Great. Just when we thought we had a moment's peace." Despite the frustration evident in his voice, there was an underlying resolve. "Well, we've faced worse. We'll just have to get creative."

Sherman, still processing the night's events and the unexpected boon of their healing, nodded in agreement. "We've got our wits, and we've got each other. Let's not forget, we've made it this far on more than just bullets and magic."

The determination in Sherman's voice bolstered the spirits of his companions. They knew all too well the truth of his words. Their journey had been as much about resilience, quick thinking, and the strength of their bond as it had been about firepower.

"Alright, then," Braeburn said, a new fire kindling in his eyes. "Let's see what these caverns have in store for us. Keep your eyes peeled for anything we can use as a weapon—or a way out."

Big Mac, placing the now-useless rifle on his back more out of sentiment than utility, scanned the cavern's entrance. "And stay close. These caverns are bound to be teeming with more than just rocks and echoes."

With a collective nod, the trio stepped into the caverns, the darkness swallowing them whole. The air was cool and damp, the silence occasionally broken by the distant drip of water or the unsettling skitter of unseen creatures. Every step was cautious, their senses heightened to detect any hint of danger or opportunity.

As they navigated the twisting paths, the lack of light became a pressing issue. Sherman, recalling the candles and matches they had found in the warlock's den, quickly fashioned makeshift torches, providing them with a small but crucial source of light.

The caverns tested their resolve, presenting obstacles that ranged from treacherous drops to narrow ledges that demanded careful balance. Yet, with each challenge overcome, their confidence grew. They began to move with a fluidity born of necessity, adapting to the environment with a blend of caution and daring.

Braeburn, leading the way with one of the torches, broke the silence that had settled over them. "You know, in a way, this is exactly what we signed up for when we became adventurers. Not the getting lost part, necessarily, but facing the unknown, pushing our limits."

Sherman smiled, despite the tension. "Yeah, who needs ammo when we've got an endless supply of optimism, right?"

Big Mac's grunt was the closest thing to a laugh they had heard from him in a while. "Optimism doesn't kill monsters, but it sure beats giving up."

Their conversation, light-hearted yet underscored by the gravity of their situation, echoed off the cavern walls, a testament to their indomitable spirit. As they delved deeper into the network of caves, the trio remained vigilant, ready to face whatever lay in wait with the same courage and unity that had carried them through the darkest of times.

After hours of navigating the cavern's winding paths, their spirits buoyed by light-hearted conversations amidst the darkness, the trio stumbled upon an unexpected sight—a vast valley filled with ash. The landscape before them was stark, a monochrome world under the dim light filtering through unseen cracks above.

The moment their feet touched the ashen ground, a deep rumble echoed through the valley, a foreboding welcome. Before they could react, the entrance behind them was sealed shut by falling boulders, cutting off their retreat.

"Damn it!" Braeburn cursed, his eyes scanning the valley for any alternative paths. "Looks like we're not going back that way."

Their situation took a turn for the worse as the ground beneath them shivered, then split open. Large, centipede-like creatures, armored and menacing, burst forth from the ash, their many-legged forms lunging towards the adventurers with terrifying speed.

Without their usual arsenal, Sherman, Braeburn, and Big Mac were left with no choice but to rely on their agility and wits. "Dodge and run!" Sherman shouted, barely sidestepping a snapping maw as he sprinted away.

The creatures were relentless, their numbers seeming to multiply with each moment. The trio weaved through the ash-covered landscape, the creatures' hisses and the sound of their skittering legs a constant threat at their heels.

"Over here!" Big Mac called out, spotting a narrow crevice partially obscured by ash. It was a gamble, but any hope of escape was worth taking.

As they made their dash towards the potential exit, Braeburn glanced back, gauging the distance between them and their pursuers. "Keep moving! We can't let them corner us!"

Their breaths came in ragged gasps, muscles burning from the exertion. The crevice was getting closer, but so were the centipedes, their massive bodies undulating through the ash with horrifying agility.

"Spike, watch out!" Braeburn's warning came just in time for Sherman to veer away from a creature that had nearly blindsided him, its jaws snapping shut where he had been just moments before.

"Thanks!" Sherman yelled back, adrenaline surging as he pushed himself harder.

They reached the crevice, diving into the narrow space one after the other. For a moment, they were enveloped in darkness, the sounds of their pursuers fading as they moved through the tight passage.

Emerging on the other side, they found themselves on a precipice overlooking another section of the cavern system. The creatures, unable to follow through the narrow exit, left the trio momentarily safe but deeply shaken.

Panting and leaning on their knees, they took a moment to collect themselves. The realization that they had survived yet another deadly encounter by sheer luck and quick thinking was sobering.

"That was too close," Big Mac said, his voice a low rumble.

"We're going to need to find some weapons, and fast," Braeburn added, looking over the edge of the precipice to the paths below. "We can't keep running forever."

Sherman nodded in agreement, the weight of their situation settling heavily on his shoulders. "Let's keep moving. Stay alert and stick together. We'll find a way out of this."

As Sherman, known as Spike to his companions, voiced his determination to press on, the cavern betrayed them once more. The wall behind them, previously solid and unyielding, fractured with a deafening roar, showering them with debris. Monstrous centipedes, relentless in their pursuit, poured out from the newly created breach, their multitude of legs carrying them rapidly towards the trio.

Reacting instinctively, they darted away, the ground beneath their feet treacherous with falling rocks. Their flight, however, was cut short by a grim realization—a dead end loomed before them, the cavern's walls offering no escape.

Braeburn and Big Mac, undeterred by the dire situation, drew their machetes with a resolve born of desperation. "If this is where I stand my last," Braeburn declared, his voice laced with a fierce defiance, "then I'm taking some of these bastards with me."

Big Mac, usually a man of few words, nodded in agreement, his stance ready and determined.

Sherman, feeling a pang of frustration at his lack of a weapon, grasped his rifle, intending to use it as a makeshift club. The weight of it felt oddly comforting, despite its current uselessness as a firearm.

Their resolve was immediately tested as a massive millipede, larger and more formidable than its kin, burst through the rock next to Braeburn. The force of its emergence sent Braeburn flying into Big Mac, their weapons clattering to the ground, leaving them momentarily defenseless.

Time seemed to slow as the millipede turned its attention to Sherman, its body coiling to strike. Sherman's heart raced, adrenaline flooding his system, when suddenly, an inexplicable green light began to emanate from his veins. It surged through him, tracing a path along his arms and into the rifle, inscribing strange patterns along its length.

Without conscious thought, driven by instinct and the mysterious energy coursing through him, Sherman aimed the rifle and pulled the trigger. To his astonishment, and that of his companions, the rifle discharged a barrage of green bullets, striking the millipede with lethal precision. The creature let out a final, agonized hiss before collapsing, motionless.

For a moment, they stood in stunned silence, the immediate threat vanquished but the mystery of what had just occurred hanging heavily in the air.

"What... was that?" Braeburn managed, his gaze shifting from the fallen millipede to Sherman.

"I... I don't know," Sherman admitted, equally bewildered. The green light had faded, leaving no trace of its presence save for the dead millipede at his feet.

Big Mac retrieved their machetes, his eyes never leaving Sherman. "Whatever it was, it saved us. Again."

Sherman examined the rifle, now ordinary and inert in his hands. The realization that he had somehow tapped into an unknown power, one that had transformed a simple firearm into a weapon of incredible potency, left him reeling.

"We need to keep moving," Sherman said, breaking the tense silence. "But we also need to understand this... whatever it is. It's not just about surviving anymore. We have something here, something that might change everything."

As they continued on, leaving the scene of their improbable victory behind, the events that had transpired weighed heavily on their minds. The green light, a beacon in the darkness of the caverns, had opened a door to possibilities unknown, a mystery intertwined with danger and the promise of newfound power.

Navigating the caverns with a newfound wariness, Sherman, Braeburn, and Big Mac moved in silence, their senses heightened for any sign of the centipedes. Despite their caution, the creatures were relentless, their presence a constant threat in the dark, twisting tunnels.

As another wave of centipedes surged towards them, Sherman instinctively raised his rifle. The familiar green glow suffused his veins and weapon once more, a beacon of power in the gloom. "STAY BACK!!!" he commanded, his voice echoing with authority as he unleashed a barrage of green bullets towards the advancing horde.

To Sherman's amazement, and that of his companions, the rifle operated beyond the realm of possibility—the ammunition never depleted, the need to reload absent. Each shot was precise, each impact lethal. Before long, the centipedes, sensing the futility of their assault, retreated into the darkness from which they had emerged.

In the aftermath of their confrontation, a momentary euphoria took hold. "Did you see that? They're running scared!" Big Mac exclaimed, a rare grin breaking across his face.

"Yeah, thanks to Spike here," Braeburn added, clapping Sherman on the back. "Whatever that power is, it's on our side."

Sherman, still gripping the rifle, felt the glow recede, leaving him with more questions than answers. "Let's keep moving. We're not out of this yet."

Their journey continued, the caverns revealing a new challenge with each step. But the retreat of the centipedes had bolstered their spirits, a victory, however small, against the overwhelming darkness.

Then, as they rounded a bend, the cavern opened up to reveal a massive door, its surface etched with runes and symbols that pulsed with a faint, otherworldly light. It stood as a monumental barrier, the entrance to what could only be the boss room.

Big Mac's voice was solemn, reverent. "The boss room," he acknowledged, his gaze fixed on the imposing structure.

"In there is our ticket out!" Sherman said, his voice laced with determination. The possibility of escape, of ending their nightmarish journey, was within reach.

"Or our graves," Braeburn interjected, his tone a mixture of caution and resolve. "We've come this far. There's no turning back now."

The trio stood before the door, each lost in their thoughts. The prospect of what lay beyond was daunting—a final challenge that would test their limits and decide their fate.

Sherman turned to his companions, the rifle still in his hands, its green glow a reminder of the mysterious power at their disposal. "Whatever's in there, we face it together. We've beaten the odds before. We'll do it again."

Braeburn nodded, drawing his machete. "Together," he affirmed, his resolve unwavering.

Big Mac, silent as always, simply readied himself, his actions speaking louder than words.

With a collective breath, they pushed the door open, stepping into the unknown. The boss room awaited, the final barrier between them and freedom. As the door closed behind them, sealing their path forward, they knew that their journey's end, for better or worse, lay just ahead.

The trio got closer to the door, and this opened without any of them doing anything.

“That was weird!” said Braeburn

“That means we’re expected,” said Spike as he grabbed his rifle firmly and took the lead.

Inside the room, the trio’s mouths opened in wonder seeing what the room looked like.

In the grandeur of what appeared to be an ancient Greek temple, with rows of towering columns spreading out into the distance, the trio's awe was abruptly shattered. A massive axe, gleaming with a sinister light, swung through the air with deadly precision, slicing through the stone pillars as though they were mere paper. The force of the attack sent Big Mac and Braeburn hurtling into a wall, pillars crumbling around them, leaving them unconscious amidst the debris.

Sherman, narrowly evading the devastating blow, found himself standing alone in the ensuing darkness. His heart pounded against his ribcage, not only from the close call but from the realization that he faced this unknown adversary without his companions by his side.

As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, the creature that had launched the attack emerged from the shadows. It was unlike anything Sherman had ever seen—a being that defied all logic and reason. Its form was shadowy and ethereal, with elongated limbs that exuded an otherworldly elegance. The creature's skin was pale, almost translucent, blurring the lines between human flesh and something far more alien. Its face was hauntingly beautiful yet deeply unsettling, with eyes that glowed with an inner light, piercing the darkness with their intensity.

The creature was draped in tattered robes that fluttered as if caressed by an unseen breeze, adding to its spectral allure. Glowing markings ran across its body like a map of some arcane power, and its hands ended in sharp, talon-like nails, hinting at a capacity for both creation and destruction.

Sherman stood frozen, his breath caught in his throat as he beheld the creature before him. Despite the fear that gripped him, he felt a strange pull towards the being, as if it held answers to questions he hadn't dared to ask.

The creature spoke, its voice a chilling whisper that seemed to echo from the very walls of the temple. "You have come far, mortal. But here, in the presence of the ancients, you will find your journey's end."

Sherman's grip on his rifle tightened, the green glow from before now a beacon of hope in the overwhelming darkness. "I didn't come this far to be stopped by you," he replied, his voice steady despite the fear that coursed through him.

A laugh, cold and devoid of humor, emanated from the creature. "Bravery or folly, it matters not. You stand alone, mortal, against the might of the shadows."

But Sherman was not deterred. "I'm not alone," he declared, thinking of Braeburn and Big Mac, of their journey together, of the trials they had overcome as one. "And I'm not just any mortal."

With that, Sherman raised his rifle, the green light intensifying around him. He understood now that this confrontation was more than a battle for survival—it was a test of wills, a challenge to prove that hope, unity, and courage could triumph over darkness.

The creature moved, a blur of shadow and light, launching itself towards Sherman with inhuman speed. But Sherman was ready, his resolve unshaken. He fired, green bullets tracing arcs of light through the air, each shot guided by an unseen force towards the heart of the shadow before him.

In the aftermath of Sherman's assault, the creature retreated into the shadows with a blood-curdling shriek, its form a blur against the backdrop of the ancient temple. Sherman, his senses heightened to their limit, spun around, rifle at the ready, anticipating another attack from any direction. The darkness seemed to thicken, becoming almost palpable, as the creature's voice echoed through the temple, a sinister sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

"You think you can harm me, mortal?" the creature taunted, its voice dripping with malice. "I am not merely a creature of the shadows. I am Nyxian, a god of the darkness that envelops all. You cannot kill a god!"

Sherman's heart pounded in his chest, but he refused to let fear take hold. "Maybe not," he called out into the darkness, his voice resolute. "But I can sure as hell try."

Nyxian's laughter was a chilling sound that reverberated off the stone columns. "Bold words for a mortal. You do not comprehend the forces you meddle with. Your defiance is but a flicker in the eternal night."

But Sherman stood his ground, fueled by a mix of adrenaline, determination, and the green light that still pulsed within him. "A flicker can start a fire, Nyxian. And sometimes, all it takes is a single spark to banish the darkness."

Silence fell, a heavy, expectant pause in which the air itself seemed to hold its breath. Then, with a speed that defied belief, Nyxian materialized from the shadows, a towering figure of darkness and malice, lunging at Sherman with claws extended.

Reacting on instinct, Sherman dodged to the side, firing his rifle once more. The green bullets found their mark, eliciting another agonized scream from Nyxian. The god of darkness recoiled, his form flickering like a shadow cast by flickering flame.

"You dare defy a god?" Nyxian roared, his voice a tempest of rage and pain. "You will suffer for your insolence!"

Sherman, realizing the gravity of his situation, knew that this was more than a battle for survival—it was a confrontation with a being of immense power. Yet, despite the fear that gnawed at the edges of his courage, he felt a profound sense of purpose. He was fighting not just for himself, but for Braeburn and Big Mac, for everyone who had ever been overshadowed by fear and despair.

"I'm not afraid of you," Sherman declared, facing the godly figure head-on. "You might be a god, but right now, you're the one running scared."

Nyxian, incensed by Sherman's defiance, launched another assault, a maelstrom of shadow and fury. But Sherman was ready, his every move guided by the mysterious green light that seemed to flow through him, lending him strength and speed beyond his mortal limits.

The temple became an arena, the battleground for a clash between mortal courage and divine wrath. Each exchange, each maneuver, was a testament to Sherman's unwavering resolve to stand against the darkness.

As the battle raged, Sherman realized that he was not alone in this fight. The green light within him, the bond with his companions, and the determination to defy the odds were his allies against the god of darkness.

Nyxian, realizing that Sherman would not falter, that his resolve was unbreakable, let out a final, furious cry before retreating into the shadows from which he had come. The darkness receded, leaving Sherman standing alone but victorious in the light of his defiance.

Panting, Sherman lowered his rifle, the green light fading as calm returned to the ancient temple. He had faced a god and lived to tell the tale, a testament to the power of human resilience and the indomitable spirit of adventure.

As he turned to check on Braeburn and Big Mac, Sherman knew that this victory was not his alone. It was a triumph shared with his companions, a victory forged in the bonds of friendship and the collective will to overcome the God of darkness… or so he thought

Just as Sherman, known to his companions as Spike, began to believe the battle was over, Nyxian proved him wrong. With a malevolent speed, the god of darkness erupted from beneath him, the force of the attack sending Sherman hurtling through the air, his body crashing through the ancient pillars with brutal force.

Landing hard among the debris, Sherman gasped in pain. His right arm was grotesquely distorted, a clear sign of a severe fracture. Gritting his teeth, he grasped his injured limb and, with a grimace of agony, wrenched it back into place, the sound of cracking bones echoing through the temple. As he coughed up blood, a stark reminder of his mortality, Sherman fumbled for the flask of Phoenix tears water, desperate for its healing properties.

Nyxian loomed over him, a shadowy figure of contempt and fury. "You persist in your defiance, mortal," he sneered, his voice a chilling blend of amusement and disdain. "But your resilience is futile. You cannot hope to defeat a god."

Sherman clutched the flask tightly, the liquid's luminescence a beacon in the darkness. "Maybe not," he managed to say, defiance flickering in his eyes despite the pain. "But I don't have to defeat you. I just have to survive."

Nyxian's laughter was cold, devoid of any real humor. "Survive? You think you can outlast the darkness itself? I am eternal, inexorable. You are but a flicker of life, soon to be extinguished."

Drawing strength from the Phoenix tears, Sherman felt the warmth spread through his body, knitting together bones and healing wounds with miraculous speed. He rose to his feet, the green glow surrounding him once more, a silent testament to his unwavering spirit.

"I may be a flicker," Sherman acknowledged, standing tall despite the god's looming presence. "But even the smallest light can pierce the darkness. And I won't stand alone."

At that moment, Braeburn and Big Mac, roused by the commotion and Sherman's indomitable will, staggered to their feet, joining their friend in defiance against the godly adversary.

Nyxian's expression twisted into one of irritation, his gaze flickering between the three companions. "So be it," he hissed. "If you seek to challenge the darkness with your fleeting lives, I will ensure it is a decision you regret."

But Sherman, bolstered by the healing power of the Phoenix tears and the support of his friends, knew that no matter the outcome, they had already achieved something remarkable. They had faced fear and despair, not with resignation, but with courage and hope.

"We don't have to defeat you," Sherman repeated, his voice steady and clear. "We just have to keep standing, keep fighting. And as long as we do, you haven't won."

Nyxian, realizing the conviction that bound the trio together was something not easily broken, let out a frustrated snarl. The final confrontation was at hand, a battle not just of strength, but of wills.

As the clash resumed, Sherman, Braeburn, and Big Mac fought with everything they had, their actions guided by a shared determination to stand against the darkness, to protect each other, and to hold onto the light, no matter how dire the circumstances.

Reeling from the relentless assault, Big Mac and Braeburn were swiftly incapacitated by Nyxian's superior strength and speed, their valiant efforts with the machetes proving futile against the god's armor. They crashed next to Sherman, the force of the impact leaving them dazed and vulnerable.

As they struggled to their feet, with Sherman's help, confusion and concern were evident in their expressions. "What's happening, Spike? Who or what is that thing?" Big Mac demanded, his gaze fixed on the shadows where Nyxian had vanished.

Sherman took a deep breath, steadying himself despite the chaos. "That's Nyxian, a god of darkness. He's not just any creature; he's something much more powerful. We're not just fighting for survival now; we're fighting against a force that considers itself unbeatable."

Before they could process the gravity of Sherman's words, Nyxian emerged from the darkness once more, his axe slicing through the air with deadly precision. Big Mac reacted instinctively, his machete meeting the axe in a desperate block. The collision sent shockwaves through the air, propelling Big Mac into the pillars behind him, where he lay motionless, knocked out by the sheer force of the attack.

Braeburn fared no better; tendrils of shadow wrapped around him, lifting him off the ground as Nyxian swung him with terrifying ease. The impact against the wall left him unconscious, a ragdoll discarded by the god's overwhelming power.

Now alone, Sherman faced Nyxian, the god's taunting voice echoing through the temple. "You see, mortal? Your friends cannot protect you. You stand alone against the darkness."

Sherman's defiance burned brighter with each word. "I'm never alone. As long as I stand, I fight for them, for all of us. You can't break that."

Nyxian, enraged by Sherman's resilience, lunged forward, his form a blur of malice. In a split second, Sherman fired his rifle, the green bullets severing Nyxian's grip on his axe and sending it clattering to the ground. But Nyxian was undeterred; his hand shot out, grabbing Sherman by the throat and lifting him into the air.

As Sherman gasped for air, caught in Nyxian's iron grasp, the god leaned in, his voice a venomous whisper. "Your spirit is commendable, but futile. Witness the end of your defiance."

Yet, even as darkness encroached on his vision, Sherman's will remained unbroken. The green glow within him pulsed stronger, a silent testament to his refusal to succumb. With every ounce of strength left in him, Sherman focused on the green light, channeling it into his body, into his very being.

Nyxian's eyes widened in surprise as Sherman, empowered by an unseen force, began to fight back against the chokehold. The green light surged, wrapping around Sherman's form, bolstering his strength, and for a moment, the god's grip faltered.

With a desperate effort, Sherman managed to speak, his voice a ragged whisper yet filled with determination. "You underestimate... the power of the human spirit, Nyxian. We're stronger... than you think."

The standoff, a battle of divine power against mortal resilience, reached its climax. Sherman, fueled by the bonds of friendship and the indomitable will to protect, to survive, and to defy, challenged the darkness with the light that resided within him.

As the green light intensified, it became clear that the outcome of this confrontation would not only define the fate of Sherman and his companions but also the very nature of the struggle between light and darkness.

As Nyxian's grip tightened, his many legs constricting around Sherman's neck with increased pressure, the god finally took notice of the green light that had been Sherman's shield and weapon. The mysterious glow, now intensifying, seemed to perplex and alarm Nyxian. "What are you?" he demanded, a mix of curiosity and apprehension in his voice, as Sherman's eyes blazed with the same green fire, a mirror to the power coursing through him.

The moment Nyxian observed smoke rising from his limbs, the burning sensation forcing him to recoil, he released Sherman, who collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. "Those flames... no, impossible... who are you? Really?" Nyxian's voice carried a hint of fear, a stark contrast to his earlier confidence.

Struggling to his feet, Sherman faced the god, his voice steady despite the ordeal. "A human... which you lack the skills to kill," he declared, his resilience shining through the pain.

"BULLSHIT!" Nyxian's scream echoed through the temple, a mixture of anger and disbelief, as he launched himself at Sherman once more. But this time, Sherman was ready. Drawing a deep breath, he unleashed a guttural roar, and from deep within, a massive wave of green flames erupted, enveloping Nyxian in a conflagration of otherworldly fire.

Nyxian's shrieks of agony pierced the air as he writhed within the inferno, the green flames consuming him. "Splendid... splendid, kid... you truly have become... one of us..." His words were a whisper of smoke as his form disintegrated into ashes, leaving behind only the echo of his final acknowledgment.

As the flames dissipated, Sherman stood alone amidst the silence of the temple, the weight of his actions and Nyxian's last words heavy upon him. Exhaustion overwhelmed him, and as the adrenaline faded, darkness crept into the edges of his vision. With one last look at the place where Nyxian had fallen, Sherman lost consciousness, collapsing to the floor in a heap.

The battle was over, but the victory felt hollow. Sherman had tapped into powers he barely understood, powers that had saved him and his companions but at what cost? Nyxian's final words hinted at a truth far greater and more complex than a simple struggle for survival. "One of us..." What did it mean for Sherman and his journey?

As he lay there, unconscious, the temple around him began to change. The columns and ancient stones shimmered with a soft light, the darkness receding like a tide. A sense of peace settled over the place, as if the temple itself was acknowledging Sherman's victory and transformation.

Braeburn and Big Mac, stirred by the quiet, began to regain consciousness, their eyes opening to the transformed temple. Confusion gave way to concern as they spotted Sherman on the ground, the remnants of the green flames flickering out around him.

Rushing to his side, they checked for injuries, relieved to find him alive but unconscious. "What happened here?" Braeburn murmured, his gaze moving from Sherman to the ashes that were once Nyxian.

Big Mac shook his head, equally baffled. "I don't know, but Spike... he did something incredible."

As they waited for Sherman to awaken, the implications of the battle and Nyxian's defeat lingered in the air. The journey they had embarked upon had taken an unexpected turn, leading them into mysteries that went beyond mere survival. They had witnessed the birth of a new power, one that had the potential to change not just their fate but the very fabric of their world.

For now, though, they focused on their friend, watching over him in the silent, glowing temple. Sherman's battle had ended, but the story of what he had become—and what they would face together—was just beginning.

As consciousness slipped away from Sherman within the confines of the ancient temple, he found himself once again in the ethereal expanse of Limbo. It was a place of tranquility, yet it held an air of anticipation, as if awaiting the resolution of unfinished business.

God's voice soon filled the void, rich with warmth and pride. "Congratulations, Sherman. You've surpassed all expectations, facing down a corrupted demi-god and emerging victorious."

But Sherman was in no mood for pleasantries or vague accolades. The mystery of his own transformation, coupled with Nyxian's cryptic final words, weighed heavily on him. "Stop," he interjected firmly. "I need answers, God. What did Nyxian mean? What's happening to me?"

There was a pause, a moment of hesitation that seemed to stretch on. Then, God's voice returned, tinged with a solemnity that had been absent before. "Very well, Sherman. It's time for the truth. Nyxian was indeed a corrupted demi-god, a guardian turned malevolent force. Each dungeon harbors one, a test for those who venture within."

Sherman absorbed this revelation, his mind racing to piece together the implications. "And me? What about my transformation?"

God's voice softened, as if bracing to impart a profound truth. "The change you've undergone traces back to the pill you consumed in the warlock's hut. That warlock was none other than your ancestor, Drakken Von Drake the II, a figure of immense significance in the annals of the Dragon Empire. He, like you, was born devoid of magic or inherent skills. Yet, he transcended his limitations, becoming the first 'Human, Demi-god of Alchemy and Chemistry.'"

Sherman struggled to grasp the magnitude of what he was hearing. His entire life, defined by the absence of magic and skill, was now linked to a legacy of unprecedented transformation. "A demi-god... of Alchemy and Chemistry? But how does that relate to me?"

God continued, the revelations unfolding like pages from a long-sealed tome. "Drakken Von Drake the II sought to empower those who came after him, leaving behind a legacy encapsulated in that pill. Consuming it initiated your transformation, awakening the latent demi-god essence within you, inherited from Drakken himself."

Sherman's mind reeled, the pieces of the puzzle beginning to align. "So, the green light, the flames... That's all part of this demi-god essence?"

"Exactly," God affirmed. "Your actions, your resilience, they've all contributed to unlocking this potential. You've tapped into a power that bridges the realms of humanity and divinity, a synthesis of alchemy, chemistry, and something far greater… the flames were a gift I gave your ancestor centuries ago, “The holy flames” the only thing that can purify corrupted Demi-Gods… your ancestor was the first person in history to go and vanquish a dungeon all by himself, using those flames… however, such power caused jealousy and hatred, so, with a heavy heart, he was forced to come to this dungeon, where he built his lab, and used his last breath to create 2 “Holy flame” pills, 1 that you ingested earlier, and the other one… given to his daughter, which she placed in a capsule within the Von Drake state in the Dragonlands, formerly known as the Dragon Empire,” God said

“But that last name disappeared years ago, I am the last “Von Drake”,” Spike said

“You are the last with the last name “Drake”, but no the last with the blood of Drakken,” said God

“What?” asked Spike

“His daughter had 4 kids, the 4 had 3, 4, 8, 12 kids respectably, however, only one of them was a male, your great, great, great grandfather… making you the only descendant in the Male branch of your family,” said God

“And what of it, it’s not like they came looking for me?” said Spike

“Because your father severed ties with them, due to the current patriarch and of your family, who isn’t even Von Drake blood… making you the rightful heir to that position” God said

The implications of God's words were staggering. Sherman, once defined by what he lacked, now stood at the precipice of a new identity, one that bridged mortal and divine. "What does this mean for me? For my future?"

"It means that your journey is far from over," God replied, a note of encouragement threading through his words. "You've been given a gift, Sherman, an opportunity to explore the depths of your newfound abilities and to shape the world in ways you've yet to imagine… just like I gave Drakken years ago, turning him into my “avatar” in your world, the same, you know have become… Go… and be the greatest ever! Be the Demi-God, you were meant to be!” God said 

As the conversation drew to a close, Sherman felt a sense of purpose ignite within him, fueled by the revelations of his heritage and the uncharted potential that lay ahead. The path forward was shrouded in mystery, but armed with the knowledge of his past and the power of his transformation, he was ready to face whatever challenges awaited.

As the world slowly came back into focus, Sherman felt the warmth of life coursing through his veins once more. Opening his eyes, he was greeted by the relieved faces of Braeburn and Big Mac, who wasted no time in enveloping him in a tight, brotherly hug.

"You had us worried there, Spike," Braeburn said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Yeah, don't scare us like that again," Big Mac added, a rare smile gracing his features.

As they helped him to his feet, Sherman looked at his friends, a serious expression on his face. "There's something I need you guys to keep a secret," he began, hesitating for a moment, Spike noticed Nyxian’s axe, he then walked up to it, grabbed it and slammed it into the ground giving himself a Godly appearance "Back there, what happened... I've become something else. A Demi-God."

The revelation hung in the air, heavy with significance. Yet, without a moment's hesitation, both Braeburn and Big Mac nodded in understanding.

"Your secret's safe with us," Braeburn assured him, clapping a hand on Sherman's shoulder. "To our graves, if need be."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Big Mac agreed, his loyalty unwavering.

With the weight of confession lifted and the Axe safely in Spike’s storage, the trio soon discovered a teleportation rune etched into the floor of the temple, its glow a beacon of hope. With a shared glance, they stepped onto the rune, and in a flash of light, found themselves transported back to the first level of the dungeon.

The sound of police sirens and the murmur of a crowd filtered through the entrance, a stark reminder of the world beyond. As they emerged into the daylight, the crowd erupted into cheers, their joyous reception a stark contrast to the darkness they had left behind.

Big Mac and Braeburn were immediately swept up into the arms of their wives, their reunions a whirlwind of tears and laughter. Sherman stood to the side, a smile on his lips as he watched the heartwarming scene unfold. Yet, amidst the celebration, he couldn't shake the feeling of solitude that crept upon him.

Just as he turned to leave, Big Mac's voice stopped him. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked, a hint of mischief in his tone. "You're coming with us to Sweet Apple Acres."

Before Sherman could protest, he was dragged back into the fold, his friends' determination leaving no room for argument. "We're family now, Spike. You're not alone in this," Braeburn added, his words echoing the sentiment of unity that had carried them through their darkest moments.

As they made their way through the crowd, Sherman couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging, a warmth that went beyond the cheers and the sunlight. He was part of something greater—a bond forged in the depths of adversity, now unbreakable in the light of day.

Sweet Apple Acres awaited, a promise of peace and a new beginning. Sherman knew that the road ahead would be filled with challenges and discoveries, the mysteries of his transformation and the legacy of his ancestor beckoning him forward. But for now, he was content to bask in the joy of their return, surrounded by friends who had become family.

Their journey through the dungeon had ended, but a new chapter was just beginning. Together, they would face the future, united by their experiences and strengthened by the knowledge that no matter what lay ahead, they would never have to face it alone.
> G.U.C.C. From Zero to... Apples?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the group approached the sprawling expanse of Sweet Apple Acres, the sense of homecoming was palpable. The farm was alive with activity, the entire family gathered to welcome back their own. Big Mac, Braeburn, and their wives were immediately enveloped in a sea of hugs and joyful tears, the air filled with laughter and the comforting murmur of familiar voices.

Sherman, however, found himself on the periphery, his presence almost ghostlike amid the reunion. He had made a conscious effort to remain unobtrusive, unsure of his place among the tight-knit family. It was a sensation he had become all too familiar with—a lingering shadow on the fringe of warmth and belonging.

It was then that Jo Dee Smith, the revered matriarch of the family, emerged from the farmhouse. Her presence commanded attention, a pillar of strength and love as she greeted her grandson and grand-nephew. Following closely behind her were Big Mac's younger sister and parents, their faces alight with relief and happiness as they joined in the welcoming embrace.

The moment was a snapshot of familial love, a bond unbroken by distance or danger. But as Granny Smith's gaze swept over the gathering, it landed on Sherman, who was inching away, hoping to slip unnoticed into the background.

"Sherman, where do you think you're goin'?" she called out, her voice carrying a warmth that halted his retreat. To ensure he didn't slip away, Ashley, Big Mac's youngest sister, made a spirited attempt to tackle him to the ground. Her enthusiasm outpaced her aim, and Sherman sidestepped just in time to avoid her enthusiastic charge, leaving her to meet the earth with an unceremonious thud.

The scene broke the ice, drawing a chorus of laughter from the family and a sheepish grin from Ashley as she picked herself up.

Granny Smith, undeterred by the mishap, beckoned Sherman over. "Come on in, dear. You're as much a part of this celebration as anyone."

Sherman hesitated, the invitation unexpected yet genuine. Big Mac and Braeburn, noticing his reluctance, came to his side, guiding him towards the heart of the family gathering.

"Granny, this is Sherman," Big Mac introduced. "He's the reason we made it back in one piece. He's family."

Granny Smith's eyes softened as she regarded Sherman, her gaze penetrating yet kind. "Well, Sherman, any friend of these boys is family to us. Welcome to Sweet Apple Acres."

The sincerity in her words, the open acceptance, was a balm to Sherman's lingering sense of isolation. As he was ushered into the farmhouse, surrounded by the vibrant life of the Smith family, a sense of belonging began to take root. The laughter, the shared stories, the warmth of the fire—it all wove a tapestry of connection that Sherman had never expected to find.

Sitting among the family, listening to tales of past adventures and plans for the future, Sherman realized that Sweet Apple Acres offered more than just a respite from his journey. It offered a glimpse of a life filled with the very things he had longed for—friendship, acceptance, and a place to call home.

As the night wore on, the stars twinkling above the farm like a celestial tapestry, Sherman knew that his journey was far from over. But for the first time, he felt anchored, grounded in the knowledge that he had found allies, friends, and perhaps even a family in the unlikeliest of places.

As the evening wore on and the time for dinner approached, a sumptuous spread was laid out on the massive family table at Sweet Apple Acres. Sherman, now affectionately known as Spike among the family, found himself with an appetite that mirrored the grandeur of the feast before him. The day had been long, filled with introductions, questions about the dungeon, and playful challenges from the younger family members—all of which he had navigated with the same resilience and grace that had seen him through the darkness of the dungeon. Despite his victories, Spike remained quiet, an observer more than a participant in the day's festivities.

Noticing his reticence, Granny Smith made her way over to him, her keen eyes missing nothing. "What's the matter, dear?" she inquired, her voice soft but carrying a note of concern. "You've been quieter than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs."

Spike offered a small, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry if I'm raining on everyone's parade. It's just... I've never been to a family gathering before, much less a party like this."

Granny Smith's expression turned from concern to confusion. "Never been to a family gathering? But why ever not?"

Taking a deep breath, Spike began to unravel the story of his past for Granny Smith. He spoke of his childhood, marked by the absence of magic and skills in a world where such gifts were common. He detailed the loneliness and isolation that had been his constant companions, the loss of his grandmother—the only family he had ever known—and the years spent navigating a world that seemed not to have a place for him.

As he spoke, Granny Smith's eyes filled with tears, her heart aching for the young man who had faced the world with such courage yet carried such a burden of solitude. "Oh, dear," she murmured, reaching out to gently grasp his hand. "You've been carrying such a heavy load on your own."

Spike nodded, the act of sharing his story lifting some of the weight from his shoulders. "I guess I have. But being here, with all of you, it's... it's more than I ever could have hoped for."

Granny Smith squeezed his hand, her tears spilling over. "Well, you listen to me, Sherman Drake. You're part of this family now, and you'll never have to be alone again. You hear?"

The sincerity and warmth in Granny Smith's words touched Spike deeply, a sense of belonging blossoming within him for the first time. "I hear you, Granny Smith. And thank you. For everything."

As dinner commenced, Spike found himself enveloped in the lively banter and laughter of the Smith family, a stark contrast to the solitary meals of his past. With each story shared and each dish passed, he felt the barriers of his past receding, replaced by the bonds of friendship and family.

As Spike and Granny Smith made their way back to the heart of the gathering, the room was filled with the animated voice of Bryan, Big Mac's father. His recounting of the day's events brought a mixture of concern, pride, and a hint of indignation that resonated with the assembled family.

"When your mother and I got the call that you were stuck in some dungeon, we rushed over," Bryan was saying, his voice carrying across the room. "But they wouldn't let us in, the nerve of those officers, telling us it was too dangerous for us to go in and get you out!"

Pamela, Big Mac's mother, interjected with a gentle, calming tone. "They were only doing their job, dear," she reminded him. "Besides, it's not like it was our first rodeo. We've been in hundreds of dungeons before."

Bryan waved off her comment with a mix of frustration and jest. "Yes, but this was different. Our boys were in there."

Spike, feeling more at ease with each passing moment, joined the conversation. "It would've been pointless, unless either of you had wind magic," he chimed in, drawing the attention of Bryan and Pamela. "You weren't making it past floor 14."

Bryan's expression shifted from concern to curiosity as he looked at Spike. "And who might you be?" he asked, before his face lit up with recognition. "Ah, you must be the hero of the hour!"

Pamela smiled warmly, extending her hand in greeting. "We've heard so much about you already, dear. I'm Pamela, and this is my husband, Bryan. You've done so much for our family; we can't thank you enough."

Spike, still adjusting to the whirlwind of introductions and newfound connections, shook their hands. "It was nothing, really. We all looked out for each other in there. I'm just glad we made it back safely."

Bryan clapped Spike on the back, a gesture that spoke volumes of the gratitude and respect he felt. "Well, we're mighty grateful to you, son. Not every day we get to welcome a hero into the family, especially one who's saved our boys."

The conversation flowed naturally from there, with Spike sharing more about the dungeon's challenges and the teamwork that had seen them through. Bryan and Pamela listened intently, their expressions a mix of awe and pride.

As dinner progressed, Spike found himself enveloped in the warmth of the Smith family, each member eager to share their own tales of adventure and to hear more of his. The sense of isolation that had once defined him seemed a distant memory, replaced by laughter, shared stories, and the comforting presence of those around him.

That night at Sweet Apple Acres marked the beginning of a new chapter in Spike's life. One where he was no longer a solitary figure battling the shadows alone, but a valued member of a family that celebrated courage, resilience, and the ties that bind us all together.

The lively atmosphere of the Smith family dinner was momentarily disrupted by the dramatic entrance of Abigail, Big Mac's second youngest sister. With an energy that seemed to fill the room, she launched herself at her brother, her embrace a testament to the relief and joy of seeing him safe. The force of her greeting nearly sent them both tumbling, drawing a mix of laughter and admonishments from the gathered family.

"Pamela, your daughter's manners!" Bryan exclaimed, though his voice carried more amusement than disapproval.

Pamela shook her head, her expression a mix of exasperation and fondness. "Abigail, really! You could have at least used the doorbell," she chided, even as a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Abigail, about to retort with the spirited defense typical of her fiery personality, stopped mid-sentence. Her gaze, previously focused on her brother, shifted to the new face among the family. The world seemed to pause, the background noise fading into insignificance as her eyes met Spike's. For a moment, it was as if a celestial choir sang just for them, a melodious harmony that underscored the instant connection she felt.

Spike, taken aback by the intensity of her stare, managed a polite, "Hi," breaking the spell that had momentarily ensnared Abigail.

Snapping back to reality, Abigail's cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. "Hi, my name is Abigail Smith, but you can call me Applejack," she said, extending a hand towards Spike with a confidence that belied her earlier moment of distraction.

Spike, amused and intrigued by the sudden change in demeanor, shook her hand. "Nice to meet you, Applejack. I'm Sherman, but everyone here seems to prefer calling me Spike."

Applejack's smile widened, her initial awe giving way to the warmth and openness that characterized the Smith family. "Well, Spike, welcome to Sweet Apple Acres. We've heard a lot about you. You've become something of a legend around here."

The conversation that followed was filled with questions, laughter, and the sharing of stories. Applejack was particularly interested in Spike's adventures in the dungeon, hanging on every word as he recounted their trials and triumphs. Despite the dramatic nature of their meeting, Spike found himself at ease, drawn in by Applejack's genuine curiosity and vibrant personality.

As dinner continued, the sense of camaraderie and family warmth enveloped Spike, further solidifying his feeling of belonging. Applejack, for her part, seemed equally taken with the newcomer, her initial fascination evolving into a genuine friendship as the evening wore on.

The dinner at Sweet Apple Acres was a lively affair, filled with laughter, stories, and an undeniable warmth that made Sherman, or Spike as he was now known, feel more at home than he ever thought possible. However, amidst the jovial atmosphere, Spike couldn't help but notice Applejack's persistent glances, her eyes often finding him across the table. Granny Smith, ever observant, caught onto this as well and, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, decided to tease Applejack about her apparent interest in Spike.

"Now, Applejack, dear, you seem mighty interested in our hero here. Could it be a little crush?" Granny Smith nudged, eliciting a chorus of chuckles from around the table.

Applejack, true to her spirit, blushed fiercely but denied it with a huff. "Granny! That's ridiculous. I'm just... curious is all," she protested, her denial only serving to amuse her family further.

Her parents, Pear Butter and Bright Mac, joined in the teasing, playfully suggesting, "Well, maybe you two should just go ahead and get married then!" This prompted an exuberant cheer from Granny Smith, who seemed delighted at the prospect.

Spike, caught completely off guard by the sudden turn of the conversation, could only blink in surprise. Bright Mac and Granny Smith began to amiably pressure him, throwing comments his way like, "Don't you think my granddaughter is a beauty?" and "Are you saying my daughter is not good enough for you?!"

Sensing Spike's growing tension, Braeburn decided to shift the focus. "By the way, Spike, what level are you now?" he inquired, a question that seemed innocuous enough given their recent ordeal.

Spike, grateful for the change of subject, accessed his stat screen to answer the question. "Level 838," he read aloud, his voice steady until the number truly registered. His head snapped back to the screen, a crack audible as he did a double take. "LEVEL 838!" he exclaimed in disbelief, echoing the shock felt by everyone at the table.

"Well, that's a demi-" Big Mac began, almost revealing Spike's new status before Braeburn, quick as ever, slapped him on the back of the head to silence him.

The playful banter and startling revelations were abruptly cut short by a loud explosion from outside the house. Instantly, the atmosphere shifted from one of warmth and laughter to one of alertness and concern. The family rushed to the windows, peering out into the night to identify the source of the disturbance.

"What in tarnation was that?" Applejack exclaimed, her previous embarrassment forgotten in the face of potential danger.

Spike, his senses heightened from his experiences in the dungeon, felt a familiar tug of responsibility. "Stay here. I'll go check it out," he offered, already moving towards the door, his newfound powers a reassurance that he could handle whatever lay beyond.

Granny Smith, though worried, nodded her approval. "Be careful, dear. You've got a whole family here that's mighty fond of you."

As Spike stepped outside, the cool night air hit him, carrying with it the scent of smoke and the faint sound of chaos in the distance.

As Spike emerged into the night, the sight that greeted him was one of destruction and chaos. Several of the barns on the Sweet Apple Acres property were engulfed in flames, their bright fires casting an ominous glow against the dark sky. Without hesitation, Spike summoned his rifle, the familiar green glow emanating from it as he made his way toward the nearest burning structure, determined to confront the threat head-on.

Halfway to the barn, a sudden floodlight flared to life, momentarily blinding him with its intense brightness. A male voice, loud and commanding, boomed through the night, "APPLE FAMILY, YOU ARE SURROUNDED. GIVE US THE DEED TO THE LAND IF YOU WISH TO LIVE!"

Recovering quickly from the initial shock, Spike acted on instinct. He aimed and fired at the source of the light, shattering the floodlight with a precise shot. The night reclaimed its darkness, and Spike called out, "Who the hell are you?"

From the shadows, two figures emerged, their demeanor confident and slightly menacing. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?" the first voice spoke, tinged with a mocking tone. It belonged to Flim, one half of the notorious Flim Flam brothers, known for their scheming ways and unscrupulous business practices.

His brother, Flam, stepped forward as well, an equally unsettling smile on his face. "It seems we have an unexpected guest. No matter. We're here for the deed to this land, and we're not leaving without it."

The Flim Flam brothers stood side by side, a formidable pair despite their less than imposing appearance. Spike recognized them, they were known for their fast-talking sales pitches and less-than-honest business ventures. Here, however, they exuded a sense of danger that was new and more threatening than their usual antics.

Spike, undeterred by their presence, kept his rifle trained on them. "The Apple family isn't going to hand over anything to the likes of you," he stated firmly, the green light from his weapon casting eerie shadows on his face.

Flim chuckled, the sound grating in the quiet of the night. "Oh, I think they will, once they see we mean business. You see, we're not the simple sales people we once were. We've got backers now, powerful ones, and they want this land."

Flam added, his voice cold and calculating, "And we always get what we want, one way or another. So, why don't you just step aside, and nobody has to get hurt?"

Spike's resolve hardened at their words. The Apple family had welcomed him with open arms, and he wasn't about to let these two charlatans threaten their home and livelihood. "I'm not stepping aside. And you're not getting this land."

The standoff was tense, with the Flim Flam brothers assessing Spike as a serious threat for the first time. Behind him, the Apple family watched, worry and determination mingling in their expressions. They knew they were not alone in this fight—not with Spike standing in their defense.

Spike, with discernment sharp as ever, quickly sized up his immediate adversaries. Flim and Flam might have had the gift of gab and a certain low-level cunning, but in terms of raw power, they were significantly outmatched. Flim stood at level 130 and Flam at 129, hardly a threat to Spike on their own. It was clear their confidence stemmed from another source.

"You two and what army?" Spike challenged, his voice steady despite the odds.

With a smug look shared between them, Flim and Flam gestured grandiosely, signaling to their hidden forces. In response, floodlights flickered on across the expanse of Sweet Apple Acres, revealing the scale of their ambition. The farm was indeed surrounded, a sea of at least 4,000 fighters, each armed and seemingly ready for battle. It was a show of force designed to intimidate, to coerce surrender through sheer numbers.

"This army!" Flam declared triumphantly, believing the display enough to secure their victory.

However, their moment of triumph was short-lived. Another explosion, this one from the south, captured everyone's attention. Through their binoculars, Flim and Flam watched in horror as their men were thrown into chaos, some fleeing in terror, others caught in the flames or lying motionless on the ground.

The Apple family, witnessing the unfolding drama from the homestead, knew they couldn't stand idly by. Led by Bright Mac and Pear Butter, Big Mac, Applejack, Braeburn, and others quickly armed themselves and joined Spike, forming a line of defense in front of their home and livelihood.

"What in tarnation do you think you're doing to our farm?!" Applejack bellowed, her usual resilience turning into fierce protectiveness.

Bright Mac, standing firm next to Spike, added, "You may have numbers on your side, but you've underestimated the strength of this family and our friends."

Flim and Flam, now realizing the unity and resolve of the Apple family, began to waver. The unexpected resistance, combined with the mysterious force disrupting their ranks, had shaken their confidence.

Spike, seizing the moment of doubt, addressed the brothers directly. "This ends now. Leave Sweet Apple Acres, and we'll let you walk away. Continue this, and you'll face not just me, but all of us."

The standoff at Sweet Apple Acres had reached a critical point. The Flim Flam brothers, faced with the combined might of the Apple family and their mysterious ally, had to make a choice. Retreat and save face, or press on and risk total defeat.

As tension hung in the air, the resolve of the Apple family and their friends was clear. They stood united, ready to protect their home against any threat. For Spike, this was more than just a battle; it was a testament to the bonds he'd formed, a fight for the place he'd come to call home.

As the standoff at Sweet Apple Acres persisted under the heavy blanket of night, Spike's acute senses caught a subtle, yet suspicious movement from Flim. The schemer was inching his hand toward his pocket, no doubt reaching for something that could escalate the situation disastrously.

Without a moment's hesitation, and with precision honed in the depths of the dungeon, Spike aimed and fired. His shot was targeted not to harm but to disarm, striking Flim's hand with such accuracy that it knocked a remote detonator from his grasp. The device clattered to the ground, its ominous red light blinking harmlessly in the dirt.

The sudden action served as a catalyst. From the shadows, the tension erupted into chaos as the sound of gunfire filled the air. However, it wasn't the battle that had been anticipated. Instead, the Apple family and Spike found themselves in a defensive position, their focus on protecting the homestead and each other from the misguided aggression.

"Cease fire! Cease fire!" Flam bellowed, trying to regain control of the situation. The realization that their plan had crumbled before their very eyes was setting in, exacerbated by the unexpected resistance from the Apple family and the mysterious prowess of Spike.

"Everybody, take cover!" Bright Mac shouted, his voice cutting through the noise as he ushered his family and friends to safety behind the sturdy walls of the farmhouse.

Applejack, ever the fighter, called out, "We need to push them back! They ain't takin' our home!"

“Abigail, Wait!” Bright Mac yelled as Applejack rushed Flim and Flam only to be pinned down by enemy fire

Spike, surveying the scene, understood that the immediate threat had to be neutralized without further escalation. "Follow my lead!" he commanded, the green light glowing ominously in his eyes as he prepared to use his abilities to disarm and disperse the attackers without causing harm.

“Bright Mac! They’re heading for the C4 mounds, stop them!” Spike commanded as he opened covering fire

“YOU HEARD MY FUTURE SON-IN-LAW! GO!!!!” Bright Mac yelled as he, Big Mac, and other members of the family charged to the West, were the C4’s had been planted 

“Pear Butter, lay suppressing fire to the south, tell the snipers to kill any of them that gets within 50 feet of the homestay!” Spike said as he shot and killed the gang member that was trying to stab her

“THANKS FOR THE ASSIST! YOU HEARD HIM!” Pear Butter said as she rushed south to aid in the protection of the Homestay

With a strategic approach, Spike maneuvered through the battlefield, his actions focused on disabling weapons and creating barriers of light to protect his newfound family. The Apple family, inspired by his lead, followed suit, using whatever means they had at their disposal to defend Sweet Apple Acres.

It was then that he heard Applejack’s pleas for help.

Spike turned and saw her pinned behind a wall, as a mounted machine gun fired on her position.

Most concerning of all, she was about to be surrounded by gang members.

It was here when he noticed something odd, even though they could easily shot her, they didn’t point their guns at her, but it wasn’t the time to be thinking about whys or what ifs, Spike had to help her out.

Spike then rushed forward, and with deadly precision, headshotted the gang member manning the Machine Gun.

This caught the other gang members by surprise, who had he hit someone, from 50 feet away, specially since the machine gun had a protective shield, with only a 1 inch opening for them to aim.

Applejack’s heartbeat was going crazy, she had been inside dungeons with her friends before, but never had she been in this sort of situation, where she saw her life flash before her eyes.

Unable to focus, she didn’t notice one of the approaching Gang members, aiming his gun up her, until BANG! She quickly turned around to see the gang member dead, blood oozing out of his head.

“GET UP AJ!, KEEP FIGHTING!” Spike said as he appeared before her, firing like crazy, at anything that moved.

Applejack, began to calm down, grabbed her shotgun, and got up, aiming it at the approaching Gang members

“THANKS, SUGARCUBE!” she said

“Thank me when they’re dead!... 4 o’clock!” Spike said

Applejack turned and fired, killing another one.

“2 o’clock!” She said

Spike then pulled out his 9mm gun, and without looking, shot another one in the head.

This greatly impressed Applejack, however, this momentary distraction left them exposed as 2 gang members charged them.

However, as if on instinct, she turned and grabbed one of the gang member’s arms, while Spike turned and did the same with the other one, they both then used them as human shields, before shooting them in the head.

From afar, Bright Mac and Pear Butter looked at the 2 young ones fighting with proud smiles

“Just like when we were their age, right!” Bright Mac said

“I’m glad she finally found the one!” Pear Butter said with a smile

Back with Spike and Applejack, Applejack, was amazed, her reflexes were never this good, not to mention, she felt her body different, stronger, yet lighter, it was here when she looked up and noticed Spike’s eyes, the green flames that were coming from them, this made her remember something her grand father told her before his death






Years before the events that would bring the Apple family to stand united in defense of Sweet Apple Acres, a young Applejack sat on the porch of the farmhouse, her eyes wide with wonder as she listened to the stories of her grandfather. He was a man of few words, but when he spoke of his adventures, each word carried the weight of untold mysteries and untapped magic.

On one such evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the orchard, her grandfather shared a tale unlike any other. "Applejack," he began, his voice taking on a solemn tone that immediately captured her attention, "there's something I need to tell you about. Something important."

Applejack leaned in, sensing the seriousness of the moment. "What is it, Grandpa?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Her grandfather paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing. "Throughout my years as an adventurer, I've seen many things—wonders and horrors alike. But there's one thing that stands out among them all. The Holy Green Flames."

Applejack's eyes widened. "Holy Green Flames? What are they?"

"They're not just any flames, child. They're a sign, a beacon of sorts. They appear only in the presence of a Demi-God. A being of immense power, bridging the mortal world and the divine," her grandfather explained, his gaze distant as if recalling a memory long buried.

"A Demi-God?" Applejack repeated, the word foreign yet filled with an inexplicable significance.

"Yes," her grandfather nodded. "Demi-Gods walk among us, sometimes unaware of their own nature. But when the Holy Green Flames are seen, it's a sign that a Demi-God is near, wielding powers beyond our understanding."

Applejack sat in silence, absorbing the gravity of his words. The idea of Demi-Gods and magical flames was the stuff of legends, yet coming from her grandfather, it felt undeniably real.

"But how will I know if I ever see these flames? How will I know if there's a Demi-God?" she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her grandfather turned to her, a gentle smile on his face. "You'll know, Applejack. The Holy Green Flames are unlike any fire you've ever seen. They don't destroy; they protect, they heal, and they reveal the truth. If you ever see them, remember that you're in the presence of something greater than us all. And remember, it's a sign of hope, not fear."

The conversation lingered in Applejack's mind long after her grandfather had finished his story. It was a tale that would shape her understanding of the world in ways she couldn't yet comprehend.






Years later, as she stood beside Spike, witnessing the green light that radiated from him, the memory of her grandfather's words came flooding back. The Holy Green Flames—she was seeing them with her own eyes, just as he had described. In that moment, she understood the significance of Spike's presence, the truth of his nature as a Demi-God among them.

Applejack's belief in the impossible, in the magic and mystery that her grandfather had spoken of, was reaffirmed. And as she looked at Spike, a newfound respect and awe filled her heart. She realized that her family's destiny was intertwined with that of a Demi-God, and that together, they would face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Flim, nursing his hand and realizing the futility of their assault, exchanged a look with Flam. "Retreat!" he finally called out, the word tasting bitter in his mouth. "This isn't over," he vowed, though the threat held little weight as they retreated into the night, their army of hired guns dispersing into the shadows from which they came.

As the last of the attackers vanished, leaving behind a tense silence, the Apple family emerged from their cover, surveying the aftermath of the attempted siege. The damage to their property was evident, but the spirit of the family remained unbroken, strengthened even, by the ordeal.

Granny Smith, with tears in her eyes but a fierce pride in her heart, embraced Spike tightly. "You saved us, dear. You saved Sweet Apple Acres."

Spike, looking around at the faces of those he had fought alongside, felt a profound sense of belonging. "No… I only did my part"

In the aftermath of the tense standoff and the startling revelation of Spike's level, emotions among the Apple family ran high. Bright Mac, usually a man of calm demeanor and few words, found his patience tested beyond its limits by Flim and Flam's brazen attempt to intimidate and threaten his family and their home.

With a voice that rarely rose in anger now echoing across Sweet Apple Acres, Bright Mac unleashed a tirade against the retreating figures of Flim and Flam. "You think you can just march onto our land, threaten my family, and walk away without consequence?" he bellowed, his usual warmth replaced by a fiery indignation. "You've got another thing coming if you ever try to pull a stunt like this again!"

Flim and Flam, already shaken by the unexpected resistance and the mysterious turn of events that had decimated their ranks, could only scurry away, their usual slick retorts lost in the face of genuine fury and the unity of the Apple family.

As the dust settled and the Apple family began to regroup, Spike's mind was racing, piecing together the oddities of the night's events. Something didn't add up. With a thoughtful frown, he approached one of the discarded guns left behind by the fleeing mercenaries. Lifting it carefully, he aimed at a nearby tree and pulled the trigger. The expected report of the gun firing never came. It was empty.

Moving from one weapon to another, Spike found the same result. Each gun, regardless of make or model, was devoid of ammunition. Not a single round to be found. It was as if the show of force had been nothing more than a façade, an intimidation tactic without any real bite.

Gathering the family and the remnants of Flim and Flam's forces, Spike voiced his discovery. "None of these guns are loaded," he announced, holding up the firearms for all to see. "And I don't see any extra ammo on any of your so-called soldiers."

The revelation hung in the air, a silent testament to the deceit Flim and Flam had employed in their attempt to scare the Apple family into submission. The crowd, a mix of family members and hired goons, murmured amongst themselves, the reality of the situation slowly dawning on them.

Bright Mac, his anger giving way to incredulity, shook his head in disbelief. "All this... it was just a bluff? A show?"

Applejack, standing beside Spike, her expression a blend of relief and frustration, added, "Seems like they were countin' on scaring us into givin' up without a real fight."

Spike nodded, the pieces finally falling into place.

“Say, how long were we stuck in the dungeon?” asked Spike

“3 days,” said Big Mac

“No, but, up here, how long?” asked Spike

“35 hours,” said Bright Mac

“A day and a half… that explains it!” said Spike

“What does?” asked Pear Butter

“What happened at the dungeon, it was planned, remembered we saw all those C4s and explosives,” said Spike

“Yeah, traps, meant for the creatures,” said Braeburn

“At that time, I thought so too, but now, you wouldn’t put so many explosives together in such close proximity if the point was to kill monsters,” said Spike

“So we were the targets!” said Braeburn

“But, we were attacked by the colossus,” said Big Mac

“And that derailed the plan,” said Spike

“That guy, the one that was there, what was his name?” asked Braeburn

“Cass…” Spike said

“Can he be trusted?” asked Big Mac

“No… he only cares about himself and money,” said Spike as his eyes opened wide

“He was the trap setter, and you 2 were the targets,” said Spike

“WHAT!!!” everyone said

“Yeah, the dots all connect, you 2 are the strongest members of the Apple family that live in this land, well, most of the time… so, once you 2 fell, and possibly perished, Bright Mac would’ve forced his way in to rescue, even if it were your bodies for proper burial, or get arrested in the process, and if he went, your Pear Butter and others too, leaving the Homestay basically unattended, which would make them just need to do a show of force to take over the lands,” said Spike

“So that means that they came here not expectin’ a battle,” Applejack said

“Exactly, it was all planned,” said Spike “They were just not counting on the fact that we’d escape so quickly or survive,”

“Now that’s what I call a conspiracy!” said another member of the family

“But who orchestrated all this and why?” said Granny Smith






In the aftermath of the failed takeover at Sweet Apple Acres, the scene shifted to a starkly different setting—a lavishly appointed office, where luxury and power were displayed in equal measure. Cass, his demeanor one of forced confidence, stood before a grand desk, behind which sat a figure shrouded in authority and ambition. This was Frederick Richards, a man whose reputation for ruthless business tactics was well-known throughout the region.

"Did everything proceed according to plan?" Richards asked, his voice smooth yet laced with an undercurrent of expectation.

With a nod, Cass replied, "Yes, everything went just as we planned." His words, however, masked the unease that gnawed at him, the knowledge that the truth was far from what he presented.

The moment of deceptive calm was shattered by the shrill ring of the telephone. Richards, with an irritated sigh, answered the call, only to be greeted by Flim's frantic voice on the other end. "The takeover failed. Everyone was there—the whole Apple family and... and someone else. Someone powerful."

Richards' face darkened, the muscles in his jaw clenching as he hung up the phone with a force that echoed through the silent office. Turning to Cass, his frustration found an outlet as he landed a punishing blow, a physical manifestation of his anger and disappointment.

Cass, reeling from the unexpected assault, found his voice, a mix of pain and curiosity coloring his words. "What's the big deal with the land anyway?" he asked, rubbing his jaw. "Why go through all this trouble?"

Richards, regaining his composure, leaned back in his chair, a cold, calculating gleam in his eye. "That land," he began, his tone taking on a covetous quality, "is more than just prime real estate. It's sitting atop an expansive reservoir of Phoenix tears—a substance more valuable than you can imagine."

Cass's eyes widened at the revelation. Phoenix tears, legendary for their healing properties, were a rarity in their world, a treasure sought by many but possessed by few.

Richards continued, "With the Phoenix tears, I could revolutionize medicine, extend life... the possibilities are limitless. And the Apple family's land is the key to unlocking that potential."

The office, once a symbol of power and control, now felt like a lair where darker ambitions took root. Cass, understanding the depth of Richards' desire for the land and the resources it concealed, realized the extent to which greed could drive a man to forsake morality and decency.

As he left the office, his payment for the failed operation weighing heavily in his pocket, Cass couldn't help but feel a pang of conscience. The Apple family, who had shown resilience and unity in the face of deception and greed, stood as a beacon of integrity in a world where such qualities were often overshadowed by darker motives.

The confrontation at Sweet Apple Acres was more than just a battle over land; it was a clash between the unyielding spirit of a family and the insatiable greed of those who sought to exploit the hidden treasures of the earth. And in the heart of that struggle, new alliances were forged, and the true value of home and family was reaffirmed, standing tall against the encroaching shadows of avarice and ambition.

“It seems I need a new plan, one that deals with this new… variable,” Filthy Rich said coldly and menacingly.
> G.U.C.C. Ch. 9 Realizations
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the last embers of the night's turmoil died down, the Apple family, along with Spike, gathered in the living room of the farmhouse for an "after-action report" of the evening's events. The mood was somber yet tinged with relief; the family was intact, their home defended, and the immediate threat repelled.

Bright Mac, acting as the impromptu leader of the debrief, began, "First off, I want to say how proud I am of all of us. We stood together, faced down a serious threat, and we're all here to talk about it."

Pear Butter, always the heart of the family, added, "We've been through a lot tonight. It's a miracle we came out of it without any serious casualties." She glanced around the room, her gaze lingering on each family member, ensuring they were indeed safe and sound.

Applejack, with her characteristic resilience, chimed in, "We did what we had to do. And we did it together. That's what counts."

Spike, feeling more a part of the Apple family than ever, contributed to the conversation. "I'm just glad I could help. You all welcomed me with open arms, and I couldn't stand by and watch this family—my family—be threatened."

The discussion then turned to the more practical aspects of the confrontation. Big Mac, who had taken it upon himself to survey the aftermath outside, reported, "We've secured all the firearms and ammunition left behind. It's all being safely stored away until we can figure out what to do with it."

Braeburn added, "And we've made a count. Looks like there were more of them than we thought, but thanks to Spike and everyone's quick thinking, we managed to protect what's ours."

Granny Smith, ever the matriarch, spoke up, her voice steady and strong. "This farm has been in our family for generations. We've faced droughts, storms, and now this. But we'll keep standing strong, together."

The conversation shifted towards the future, with the family discussing the need to repair the damage to the barns and other property. Plans were made to increase security around Sweet Apple Acres, ensuring they would be better prepared for any future threats.

As the meeting came to a close, the family shared a moment of quiet solidarity. The night had tested them in ways they couldn't have imagined, but it had also reinforced their bonds and the strength they found in each other.

"We've got a lot of work ahead of us," Bright Mac concluded, "but there's nothing we can't handle as long as we're together."

Nods of agreement echoed around the room. The Apple family, with Spike now an honorary member, faced the future with determination and hope. The events of the night would not define them; instead, they would move forward, stronger and more united than ever.

As the family gathered in the warmth of the living room, the aftermath of the confrontation still fresh in their minds, a lingering question hung in the air, unspoken yet palpable: Why had the attack happened at all?

"It just doesn't make sense," Applejack finally broke the silence, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Why would anyone go to such lengths over a farm?"

Braeburn nodded in agreement. "And not just any farm, but Sweet Apple Acres. We're known for our apples, sure, but to provoke such aggression?"

Big Mac, usually a man of few words, added, "Eeyup. There's gotta be somethin' we're missin'."

The room fell into a contemplative silence, each member of the family lost in thought, searching for answers that seemed just out of reach. It was Spike who ventured the question that would shift the course of their conversation. "Has the farm always been like this?" he asked. "I mean, is there something special about the land itself?"

All eyes turned to Granny Smith, the keeper of the family's history and lore. She leaned back in her chair, a thoughtful expression crossing her weathered face. "Well, now that you mention it," she began, her voice taking on the cadence of storytelling, "Sweet Apple Acres has always been a bit... unusual."

The family listened intently as Granny Smith recounted tales of the farm's resilience through the years. "Come rain, snow, hurricanes, or droughts, Sweet Apple Acres has always borne fruit," she said, a note of pride in her voice. "There were times when the rest of the valley struggled, yet our trees never failed us."

Spike, his curiosity piqued by Granny Smith's words, felt a spark of realization. "So, there's something about the land itself," he mused aloud. "Something that's kept it thriving against all odds."

The room fell silent as the gravity of Granny Smith's statement sank in. It was a piece of the puzzle they hadn't considered—a clue to the true value of Sweet Apple Acres that went beyond its surface.

Motivated by this revelation, Spike stood up, his expression resolute. "I think we need to take a closer look," he announced, making his way to the door.

One by one, the family rose to join him, their curiosity and concern melding into a unified resolve. As they stepped outside, the night air greeted them, the stars above silent witnesses to their determination.

They gathered around the edge of the orchard, the trees standing tall and proud in the moonlight. The land of Sweet Apple Acres stretched out before them, an expanse of soil that had nurtured generations of Apples and provided for countless others.

"It's more than just land," Spike said, his gaze sweeping over the orchard. "There's a reason why it's always been fruitful, why it's always endured. And whatever that reason is, it's what they're after."

The family nodded in agreement, the pieces of the mystery beginning to align. It was clear now that Sweet Apple Acres held secrets deep within its soil, secrets that were worth protecting at all costs.

"We'll get to the bottom of this," Applejack declared, her voice firm with conviction. "Sweet Apple Acres is our home, and we'll defend it, come what may."

As the group divided to explore the expanse of Sweet Apple Acres, Spike found himself accompanied by Applejack and Big Mac. Their journey took them to the farthest reaches of the farm, where the land bordered the ominous Everfree Woods. The air was thick with the scent of adventure and the underlying tension of the unknown.

Applejack, ever the pragmatist, voiced her doubts as they walked. "I don't reckon we're gonna find anything, Spike. Mac and I have been over every inch of this farm since we were knee-high to a grasshopper. Ain't nothing strange out here, 'cept maybe the odd rabbit hole."

Spike, however, was undeterred. His instincts, honed by adventures and battles beyond the farm's peaceful borders, urged him forward. "There's always more than meets the eye," he replied, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

Their path eventually led them to a small mountain that overlooked a deep ravine, ominously named Deadman's Drop. Big Mac's voice took on a somber tone as he explained, "We were always told to steer clear of this place. Said it wasn't safe. Granddad, may he rest in peace, used to say there's some bad energy coming from there."

Spike's interest was immediately piqued. "Bad energy? That could be something worth investigating," he mused, moving closer to the edge for a better look.

Meanwhile, Big Mac seized the moment to tease Applejack about her apparent interest in Spike. "Seems like you've taken quite a shine to our new friend here," he remarked, a playful nudge accompanying his words.

Applejack, her cheeks flushing with a mix of annoyance and embarrassment, shot back, "Oh, hush up, Mac. Ain't nothing like that." Yet, her protest did little to hide the truth in her brother's observation.

Big Mac chuckled, softening his teasing with a brotherly affection. "You know, you look just like I did when I first met Sugar Belle. That same look in your eyes."

Before Applejack could respond, a scream shattered the moment. Their heads snapped towards the source, only to see Spike's figure disappearing over the edge of Deadman's Drop.

"SPIKE!" Applejack cried out, panic and fear gripping her heart as she and Big Mac rushed to the edge.

Peering over, they expected the worst, but instead, they found Spike clinging to a narrow ledge a few feet below, his fall broken by a stroke of luck or perhaps something more.

"Hold on, Spike! We're comin'!" Big Mac bellowed, his voice echoing across the ravine as he and Applejack quickly devised a plan to rescue their friend.

The next few moments were a blur of action as Applejack and Big Mac worked together, using a combination of ropes and sheer determination to pull Spike back to safety.

Once back on solid ground, Spike shook off the dust and shock, meeting the concerned gazes of his companions. "I'm okay," he assured them, though the adrenaline was still palpable in his voice. "But you won't believe what I saw down there."

Applejack and Big Mac exchanged a look, their earlier conversation forgotten in the face of this new revelation. Whatever Spike had discovered at Deadman's Drop, it was clear that the secrets of Sweet Apple Acres were deeper and more mysterious than any of them had imagined.

As they gathered their wits and prepared to delve further into the mystery, the bond between them was stronger than ever. Together, they were determined to uncover the truth hidden within the land, the legacy of Sweet Apple Acres calling them to adventure once more.

Once Spike had regained his nerves after the harrowing fall, he knew that what he glimpsed in those fleeting moments was too significant to ignore. With urgency in his voice, he instructed Applejack and Big Mac to gather the rest of the family, emphasizing the need for hiking equipment for what he anticipated would be a descent into the unknown.

Minutes later, the assembled group stood at the edge of Deadman's Drop, a mix of confusion and curiosity etched on their faces. Granny Smith, in particular, voiced her reservations, echoing the warnings of her late husband. "He always said this place was off-limits, filled with bad energy and the like," she reminded them, her gaze lingering on the ominous ravine.

Applejack, recounting Spike's earlier mishap, added, "Yeah, and Spike here decided to take a closer look by nearly givin' us all heart attacks!" Her attempt at lightening the mood was met with concerned glances, but the undercurrent of worry was palpable.

Undeterred by the warnings and the recount of his "free fall incident," Spike had already begun securing grapples along the edge, his determination clear. "There's something down there, something important. We need to see what it is," he stated, his focus unwavering as he double-checked the equipment.

One by one, they began their descent to the ledge Spike had identified, with Granny Smith remaining above, her decision to stay behind met with nods of understanding. "Y'all be careful now, ya hear?" she called out, her voice a mixture of concern and admonishment.

Once on the ledge, the group huddled close as Spike pointed to a seemingly innocuous crack in the wall. Big Mac, without hesitation and perhaps a bit too eagerly, delivered a punch that sent fragments of rock scattering, revealing a vast cavern beyond. The interior was bathed in a bright green glow, the source of which was hidden from view but promised discovery of something extraordinary.

The unexpected reveal drew gasps and murmurs of astonishment from the group. Bright Mac, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, joked, "Well, I reckon that's one way to open a door."

Applejack, ever the pragmatist, shot Big Mac a look. "Maybe next time, we can try something that doesn't involve potentially bringin' the whole place down on our heads, huh?"

Braeburn, always looking to lighten the mood, added with a grin, "I'll make sure to pack a 'Big Mac Punch' in our toolkit from now on. Works better than dynamite!"

Pear Butter, taking in the sight of the cavern, smiled softly. "Let's just hope what's inside is worth all this trouble," she said, her voice filled with a mixture of hope and trepidation.

As the family ventured into the cavern, the comical banter continued, their spirits buoyed by the promise of uncovering the secrets that lay within. The green glow that filled the space seemed to beckon them deeper, guiding their steps into the heart of the mystery that Deadman's Drop had concealed for generations.

What they would find within the cavern was yet unknown, but together, they stepped forward into the light, ready to face whatever awaited them with the same resilience and unity that had always defined the Apple family. The adventure at Deadman's Drop was just beginning, and for Spike and the Apples, it was a journey that would further cement their bonds and perhaps reveal the true legacy of Sweet Apple Acres.

The Apple family's descent into the hidden depths of the cavern was met with unexpected challenges and revelations. The first of these challenges came in the form of spiders—creatures of considerable size that seemed to guard the path deeper into the earth. Applejack's reaction, a mix of surprise and instinct, saw her momentarily seeking safety in Spike's arms. Her face flushed with embarrassment as she quickly regained her composure. "Ah swear, spiders ain't never bothered me before... It's just the surprise of it all, ya know?" she stammered, trying to explain away her reaction.

Her family, understanding yet unable to resist the opportunity for a gentle tease, offered a few light-hearted jabs before continuing on their journey. The camaraderie and laughter helped ease the tension, reminding them all of the strength found in their unity.

Further exploration led them to another rock wall, seemingly a dead end. Spike, with an analytical eye, inspected the surface before turning to Big Mac. "Think you can open this one too?" he asked, a hint of excitement in his voice.

Without hesitation, Big Mac obliged, his fist connecting with the wall in a display of raw strength that sent fragments tumbling down. As the dust settled, a brilliant glow enveloped the group, the source of light almost overwhelming in its intensity.

Stepping into the newly revealed chamber, they were greeted by a breathtaking sight. Crystals, their surfaces gleaming with an inner light, filled the cavern, stretching as far as the eye could see. Pear Butter, her voice filled with awe, observed, "They look like Larimar crystals... But I've never seen anything quite like this."

The true wonder of the cavern was revealed when Big Mac, examining one of the crystals up close, discovered the healing properties firsthand. His bruised and scratched knuckles healed before their very eyes, drawing gasps and murmurs of astonishment from the group.

Spike, intrigued by the implications, moved toward the back of the cavern, where a small spring trickled down from higher up in the wall. Drawing a sample of the water to his lips, he immediately recognized the taste. "Phoenix tears... that explains everything!" he exclaimed, turning to face the group with a look of revelation.

The discovery of Phoenix tears, a substance legendary for its healing properties, shed light on the true value of the land beneath Sweet Apple Acres. The presence of the tears, coupled with the healing crystals, suggested that the farm was situated atop a reservoir of untold power and potential.

The group erupted into excited chatter, speculating about the implications of their find. Applejack, momentarily forgetting her earlier scare, quipped, "Well, I reckon those spiders were just keepin' guard over this treasure."

Braeburn, ever the optimist, added, "Imagine what we could do with this. We could help so many folks!"

Bright Mac, thoughtful, reminded them, "We'll need to think carefully about how we proceed. This... this is a big responsibility."

As they stood together in the heart of the cavern, surrounded by the glow of the Phoenix tears and the healing crystals, the Apple family realized they were at the cusp of a new chapter in their lives. The discovery beneath their land promised not only to secure the future of Sweet Apple Acres but also to bring hope and healing to those far beyond their borders.

Spike, looking around at the faces of his newfound family, felt a deep sense of purpose. Together, they would navigate the challenges ahead, safeguarding the secret of the Phoenix tears and using its gifts to make the world a better place.

The revelation of the Phoenix tears and the healing crystals within the cavern beneath Sweet Apple Acres marked a turning point for the Apple family. As they prepared to leave the cavern, Spike, feeling the weight of responsibility, urged caution. "We need to keep this a secret," he insisted, the seriousness in his voice underscoring the gravity of the situation. "There's already someone out there trying to take this land from you, especially for this."

The family, understanding the potential dangers that knowledge of their discovery could bring, unanimously agreed. The pact was sealed with nods and solemn expressions, each member aware of the stakes involved.

Climbing back to the surface, the group was met by Granny Smith, who waited with bottles of water and an expectant look. Her excitement was palpable, a reflection of her deep love and concern for her family and their legacy.

"What did y'all find down there? Anything interesting?" she asked, handing out the water with a grandmotherly fuss over their well-being.

Bright Mac, with a glance at his family, decided to share the discovery, knowing that Granny Smith's wisdom and experience would be invaluable in the days to come. "Ma, we found something... incredible. The land's sitting on a reservoir of Phoenix tears and healing crystals," he revealed, his voice a mixture of awe and apprehension.

Granny Smith's reaction was immediate and profound. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, it seemed as though she might faint from the shock. The implications of their discovery, the wealth and power it represented, were not lost on her. "Lordy, lordy," she whispered, steadying herself. "We... we could be the most powerful family in Equestria, maybe even the world."

But as the initial shock passed, Granny Smith's resolve hardened. She straightened, the matriarchal authority she wielded within the family coming to the fore. "This stays between us," she declared, her voice firm. "Total silence on this discovery. And if I find out anyone's been loose-lipped..." She let the threat hang in the air for a moment before finishing with a stern, "They'll find themselves at the bottom of that ravine."

The family, understanding the seriousness of her words, exchanged glances. The warning was clear and unequivocal. This secret would bind them together, a shared responsibility to protect what they had found and to use it wisely.

As they made their way back to the farmhouse, the conversation turned to the future. The discovery beneath their land had opened up a world of possibilities, but it also brought with it the need for caution and discretion. The Apple family, united by blood and now by the secret of the Phoenix tears, faced a new dawn.

Granny Smith, walking alongside Spike, offered him a grateful smile. "You've brought us more than just hope, Spike. You've brought us a future we never could've imagined," she said, her gratitude evident.

Spike, feeling more a part of the Apple family than ever, nodded. "Just happy I could return the hospitality… if you ever need help with anything, just let me know, I’ll come running," he assured her, his words a promise to stand by them, come what may.

The trek back to the farmhouse was filled with the quiet buzz of conversation about the cavern's secrets, but the weighty topic was suddenly lifted as Granny Smith, ever the matriarch with an eye for family matters, decided to steer the conversation into decidedly more personal waters.

"So, Spike, dear, have you given any more thought to marrying Applejack?" Granny Smith asked, the question hanging in the air like a challenge to the serene morning.

The group came to an abrupt halt, the sudden shift in conversation topic catching everyone off guard. Applejack's response was immediate and fiery. "Granny! What in Equestria are you talkin' about?" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of red.

Yet Granny Smith, unfazed by the reaction, continued undeterred. "Well, I just thought, given all you've been through together, it might be something to consider," she mused, a twinkle in her eye that suggested she was partly teasing, partly serious.

Bright Mac and Pear Butter joined in, their own partnership a testament to the strength of love and family bonds. "Your Granny might be onto something, you know. You two do make a fine pair," Bright Mac said, nudging Spike with a knowing look.

Pear Butter added, "It's just a thought, darlings. No pressure." Her voice was gentle, echoing the sentiment of exploring possibilities rather than making hasty decisions.

Spike, caught in the whirlwind of suggestions and feeling the weight of their expectations, raised his hands in a gesture of pause. "I think we're moving a bit too fast here," he said, trying to inject some reason into the conversation. "We've only known each other for, what, five hours? And besides, I'm 22. Applejack, you're—?"

"19," she replied, a mix of hesitation and anticipation in her voice.

The age difference noted, the conversation hung in a moment of contemplation. The family, sensing the need to respect their feelings, awaited their next words with bated breath.

Spike, looking directly at Applejack, decided to address her directly. "Applejack, what do you think? About us, I mean."

Applejack, caught between her family's teasing and the sincere look in Spike's eyes, took a moment before answering, "Well... if you're ok with me... I reckon I'd like to get to know you better."

Spike nodded, a smile breaking across his face. "Let's take it slow, then. Let's start by dating. That's fair, right?"

A collective sigh of relief and a chorus of approving murmurs swept through the group. Granny Smith, satisfied with the turn of the conversation, clapped her hands together. "Well, that settles it! Y'all are gonna be the talk of the town, just you wait and see."

The group resumed their walk back to the farmhouse, the mood significantly lighter. Jokes and laughter filled the air as the family embraced the idea of Spike and Applejack exploring the possibilities of their relationship at their own pace.

As they reached the farmhouse, the early rays of the sun casting a golden glow over Sweet Apple Acres, the sense of a new beginning was palpable. For Spike and Applejack, the adventure in the cavern had not only revealed the secrets beneath their land but had also opened the door to exploring the potential of their connection.

As the evening wound down and the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, marking the late hour, Spike made a move to leave. The day's events had been exhilarating and exhausting in equal measure, and he felt the weight of the day bearing down on him.

"I should probably head out; it's getting pretty late," Spike announced, standing up from where they had all settled after dinner.

The family, surprised by his statement, immediately protested. "Leave? At this hour? And just where do you think you're going?" Bright Mac asked, concern evident in his voice.

Spike hesitated, realizing he hadn't thought this part through. "Well, I don't exactly have a house to go back to right now..." he began, trailing off as he saw their expressions shift towards concern. Rushing to clarify before they jumped to conclusions, he added, "It's not what you think. My place is just... under remodeling. That's all."

The explanation did little to assuage the family's insistence that he stay. "Nonsense," Granny Smith declared firmly. "You're staying right here with us tonight. No guest of the Apple family is wandering off into the night, especially after such a day."

Outnumbered and not entirely unwilling, Spike agreed to stay, touched by their concern and hospitality. The Apple family quickly made arrangements for him to have a comfortable place to rest for the night.

Hours later, as the household settled into a peaceful quiet, there was a soft knock on Spike's door. He opened it to find Applejack standing there, a thoughtful look on her face. "Can I come in? There's something I need to ask you," she said, her voice low.

Spike nodded, stepping aside to let her enter. The seriousness of her demeanor piqued his curiosity. "What's on your mind, Applejack?"

Once inside, Applejack took a deep breath before speaking. "I know we're still getting to know each other, and I reckon there's a lot we've yet to learn... but there's something I need to know. Are you... are you a demigod?" Her question hung in the air, a testament to her keen observation and intuition.

Spike, taken aback by her directness, realized there was no point in denying the truth. "Yes, I am," he confirmed, his voice steady. "I wasn't sure how or when to tell you, but yes, that's the truth of it."

Applejack absorbed his confirmation with a solemn nod. "I thought as much. The way you've been helping us, the things you can do... It's more than just being skilled or lucky."

Spike sighed, feeling a weight lift with his admission. "I didn't want to make a big deal out of it. But you're right. There are things I can do that most can't, all because of what I am."

The room was silent for a moment as Applejack processed his words. Then, with a determined look, she reached out and took his hand. "Spike, being a demigod or not doesn't change how we see you. You're part of this family now, and nothing's gonna change that."

Her words, sincere and reassuring, filled Spike with a sense of belonging and acceptance he hadn't realized he'd been seeking. "Thank you, Applejack. That means more to me than you know."

Their conversation continued into the night, a blend of questions and answers that brought them closer, forging a bond built on trust and mutual respect. As Applejack eventually left to return to her room, Spike knew that his place was here, among the Apples, where he was welcomed not for what he was, but for who he was.

In the quiet of the night, Spike reflected on the day's revelations and the path ahead. With the Apple family by his side, he felt ready to face whatever challenges lay before them, united by a bond that had grown stronger in the face of adversity.







The first light of dawn had barely begun to streak across the sky when Spike, ever mindful of not overstaying his welcome, quietly made his way out of Sweet Apple Acres. His departure, stealthy and without fanfare, was meant to be unnoticed, a silent goodbye to avoid early morning farewells.

However, the Apple family was quick to notice his absence. At the breakfast table, the empty seat where Spike would have sat was a silent testament to his early departure, sparking a flurry of surprise and concern among the family members.

"Did Spike leave already?" Bright Mac asked, looking around as if expecting Spike to emerge from somewhere in the house.

Granny Smith, peering out the window as if hoping to catch a glimpse of him, added, "At this hour? The boy must have had his reasons, but a proper goodbye would've been nice."

It was Applejack, pulling out her phone with a resigned sigh, who decided to shed some light on the situation. After sending a quick text to Spike, she received a prompt response that confirmed their suspicions. "He says he had some errands to run," she relayed to her family, trying to mask her disappointment with understanding.

The revelation, however, quickly turned into fodder for light-hearted teasing directed at Applejack. "Errands, huh? Or maybe he just couldn't wait to see you again," Braeburn quipped, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Pear Butter, joining in the fun, teased, "Maybe he's out picking flowers for a certain someone."

Even Big Mac couldn't resist a gentle nudge, adding a deep-voiced "Eeyup," that sent the family into a round of laughter.

Applejack, caught between embarrassment and amusement, tried to deflect their teasing with a feigned look of annoyance. "Oh, hush, all of ya. Ain't nothing like that," she protested, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her true feelings.

Granny Smith, watching the exchange with a gleam in her eye, simply chuckled. "Let the girl be. If there's something afoot, we'll know soon enough. But for now, let's enjoy our breakfast."

The family's banter and laughter filled the kitchen, a warm and familiar sound that spoke of their close-knit bonds. For Applejack, the teasing was a reminder of the love and support that surrounded her, a foundation that had only grown stronger with Spike's presence among them.

WITH SPIKE (NEAR DOWNTOWN CANTERLOT)

As Spike meandered through the bustling streets of the town, his newfound notoriety as the "F-ranker who survived the deadly dungeon" painted on posters and whispered in hushed tones among the townsfolk left him feeling a mix of embarrassment and introspection. The hoodie drawn over his head served as a meager shield against the recognition and speculation that followed him like a shadow.

With each step, the murmurs and snippets of conversation from passersby painted a vivid picture of the public's perception. Some doubted his strength, attributing his survival to luck or the prowess of his companions, while others speculated on the psychological scars such an ordeal might leave.

"He got lucky, the other 2 did most of the heavy lifting"

"He must be scared for life"

"I think I could take him in a battle Royal"

Yet, it wasn't all skepticism and pity. Spike's ears caught the flutter of more flattering conversations among groups of girls, their voices tinged with admiration and a hint of attraction. Comments on his physique and the allure of his bravery brought a reluctant smile to his face, though the attention also deepened his sense of displacement.

"His rank might be unassuming, but, look at that bod," 

"I know right, I wouldn't mind being with him," 

"I mean, he could be a model if he wanted," 

"Not only that, but if he was able to survive that dungeon, he must be dependable, all I want in a man,"

Feeling increasingly like an outsider in his own story, Spike's aimless wanderings brought him to the steps of the local church—a beacon of tranquility amidst the whirl of town life. The idea of seeking "divine knowledge" or at least a moment of peace within its walls appealed to him, a stark contrast to the chaos of rumors and expectations outside.

Stepping inside, the cool, hushed interior of the church enveloped him, offering an immediate sense of reprieve. The stained glass windows cast colorful patterns on the stone floor, and the air carried the faint scent of incense and polished wood.

Spike found a quiet pew towards the back and took a seat, allowing the serene atmosphere to wash over him. As he sat in contemplation, the priest, noticing the newcomer, approached with a gentle smile.

"My son, welcome. What brings you to seek solace in the house of the Divine today?" the priest inquired, his voice soft and inviting.

Spike looked up, surprised by the directness of the question but appreciative of the opportunity to voice his thoughts. "I guess I'm just trying to find some peace," he confessed. "The world outside feels like it's spinning too fast, and I'm not sure where I fit into it all."

The priest nodded, understanding. "The path to finding one's place in this world is often fraught with doubts and challenges. But remember, the Divine does not burden us with more than we can bear. Your survival and the trials you've faced—they've shaped you, made you stronger, and perhaps even prepared you for a greater purpose."

Spike absorbed the words, finding comfort in the idea that his experiences, however tumultuous, might be part of a larger plan. "How do I find that purpose?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"By listening," the priest replied simply. "Listening to the world around you, to the people you meet, and most importantly, to your own heart. The Divine speaks to us in many ways, through acts of kindness, moments of courage, and the pursuit of justice. Your purpose will reveal itself in time, as long as you remain open and true to yourself."

Their conversation continued, the priest offering insights and stories that spoke to the challenges of faith and the quest for meaning in a complex world. For Spike, the visit to the church became more than a search for divine knowledge; it was a step towards understanding his own journey and the role he was meant to play in the tapestry of life.

As Spike settled into the quiet solitude of a church booth, the ambient light filtering through the stained glass cast an array of colors across his face. Here, in this sacred space, he felt a profound sense of connection, as if the very walls were listening, ready to carry his words beyond the earthly realm.

Drawing a deep breath, Spike closed his eyes and whispered, "God, I know I'm just one person in this vast world, and I've been given a second chance, a purpose I'm still trying to understand. Why me? What is it that you really want me to do?"

The silence that followed was not empty but filled with a palpable presence, as if the divine was drawing near, ready to impart wisdom. Then, in the quiet of his heart, Spike felt the stirrings of an answer, not in words, but in a series of impressions and emotions that washed over him with the gentle force of a spring rain.

"You were chosen not for the strength you possess but for the heart that beats within you," the presence seemed to say, a voice neither heard nor spoken but deeply felt. "Your journey is one of many paths, each twist and turn designed to shape you, to mold you into the person you are meant to become."

Spike listened intently, the words resonating within him, illuminating the doubts and fears that had clouded his mind. "But what path am I to follow?" he asked, seeking clarity amidst the mystery that enveloped his destiny.

"The path that calls to your heart, the one that challenges you to grow, to give, to love, and to protect," the presence conveyed, a sense of timeless wisdom imbuing the message. "Look around you, at the lives you've touched, the battles you've fought not just for glory or survival, but for those who needed you. Your purpose is woven from these threads, from the moments of choice, courage, and compassion."

Spike felt a warmth spreading through him, a light that seemed to chase away the shadows of uncertainty. "And the challenges, the trials... are they meant to break me?" he ventured further, seeking to understand the nature of his trials.

"Every challenge is an opportunity, a teacher in disguise. They are not meant to break you but to break open the reservoirs of strength you never knew you had," the divine presence imparted, a note of encouragement threading through the words. "Embrace them, learn from them, and you will find that what lies on the other side is greater than anything you left behind."

The conversation, if it could be called that, left Spike with a sense of peace and purpose he had not felt before. The mysteries of his destiny were not unraveled before him, but the assurance that he was on the right path filled him with a newfound resolve.

As he opened his eyes and stepped out of the booth, the church around him felt both smaller and infinitely larger, a gateway between the mundane and the divine. With a heart fortified by divine wisdom and mystery, Spike knew that whatever lay ahead, he was not alone. His steps, guided by a force greater than himself, would lead him toward fulfilling the purpose that had been whispered to his soul in the sacred silence of the church.

Continuing his introspective dialogue within the tranquil confines of the church booth, Spike, now emboldened by the sense of connection he felt, delved deeper into the essence of his being. "What does it truly mean to be a demi-god? And why was I chosen for this... for this existence?" he questioned, seeking to understand the nature of his divine heritage and his place within the grand tapestry of life.

In the profound silence that followed, Spike sensed a deepening of the presence that had enveloped him, a readiness to unveil the mysteries that had long puzzled his heart. "To be a demi-god is to stand at the crossroads between the mortal and the divine," the voice, more a feeling than sound, began to unfold the answer. "It is a calling, a responsibility to bridge the worlds, to embody the potential for great good and, at times, great challenges."

Spike absorbed these words, feeling the weight and the wonder of his lineage. "But why me? What makes me different from anyone else?"

"You are not the first, nor will you be the last," the presence imparted with a gentle firmness. "Throughout the ages, I have sent various demi-gods into the world, each with a purpose, each with a path to forge. Many people are born with higher skills than others, not as a mark of favoritism, but as a call to serve, to lead, to heal, to protect. You, Spike, are one of these chosen souls, tasked with using your gifts for the greater good."

The revelation that he was part of a lineage, a continuum of beings chosen for a higher purpose, was both humbling and exhilarating. Yet, it also brought forth new questions. "What about the demi-gods in the dungeons? You mentioned failed or fallen demi-gods. What does that mean?"

"The dungeons," the presence explained, "are both a creation of the world's collective fears and a prison for those demi-gods who have lost their way. Failed or Fallen demi-gods are those who, for various reasons, have turned away from their purpose, succumbing to the darker aspects of their power. The dungeons serve as a reminder of the delicate balance each demi-god must maintain between their divine heritage and their mortal inclinations."

Spike listened, the concept of the dungeons taking on a new, more profound meaning. The battles fought within their depths were not just physical challenges but symbolic of the internal struggles faced by those who straddled the worlds of the divine and the mortal.

"So, what happens to these Fallen demi-gods? Is there redemption for them?" Spike asked, moved by the thought of such beings wandering lost in the darkness.

"Redemption is always possible," the voice assured him, a note of infinite compassion woven through the words. "It is never too late to return to the path, to seek forgiveness, to strive for balance. The journey back may be fraught with trials, but the potential for healing, for reclaiming one's purpose, remains."

This conversation, held in the quiet sanctuary of the church, offered Spike not just answers but a deeper understanding of his own nature and the responsibilities it entailed. The knowledge that he was part of a larger story, one that included both triumphs and trials, filled him with a renewed sense of purpose and determination.

As he left the booth, stepping back into the light of day, Spike carried with him the wisdom and the mysteries shared in those sacred moments. The path ahead was clearer now, illuminated by the divine guidance that assured him of his place in the world and the role he was destined to play.

With a heart fortified by newfound knowledge and a spirit committed to fulfilling his purpose, Spike continued his journey, aware of the challenges that lay ahead but confident in the support and guidance that accompanied him as a demi-god chosen to make a difference in the world.
> G.U.C.C. Ch. 10 "Calcutta"
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spike's journey through the town, now laden with the wisdom and mystery of his recent divine conversation, led him to the familiar threshold of the Silver Moon Guild. The guild had always been a place of camaraderie and challenge, and today, it felt like the right destination to seek clarity on his path forward.

Stepping inside, the guild's interior was as bustling as ever, with adventurers exchanging stories of their exploits and quests. Spike navigated through the lively atmosphere, making his way to the reception where he spotted Marion, the guild's diligent receptionist, busy at work behind her desk.

As he approached, Marion looked up, her face breaking into a warm smile as she recognized him. "Spike, welcome back! And let me just say, congratulations on surviving that dungeon. We've all been buzzing about it here," she greeted, her enthusiasm genuine.

Spike offered a modest smile, appreciative of the welcome but still feeling a bit overwhelmed by the attention his recent adventure had garnered. "Thanks, Marion. Actually, I was wondering about something," he began, hesitating for a moment before continuing, "How does one increase their rank here at the guild?"

Marion leaned back in her chair, happy to provide the information. "Oh, that's a good question. Here at the Silver Moon Guild, we believe that ranks should reflect the actual contributions and achievements of our members, not just their level. So, your rank increases based on the jobs you've completed successfully. It's a system that encourages real growth and development, unlike some other guilds that are, well, a bit lazy and just want to fast-track their recognition."

Spike nodded, understanding the guild's philosophy and appreciating its emphasis on merit and effort. "That makes sense. It's about what you do, not just how powerful you are," he commented, feeling a sense of respect for the guild's approach.

Curious, Marion then ventured to ask, "Speaking of power, what level are you now, Spike? After surviving that dungeon, I can only imagine it's quite impressive."

Spike hesitated, the number still fresh in his mind from his conversation with the divine. "I'm... uh, level 850," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, half-expecting disbelief or skepticism.

Marion's reaction was immediate and dramatic. Her eyes widened in shock, and with a startled gasp, she lost her balance, tumbling backward off her chair in disbelief. The clatter drew the attention of nearby adventurers, turning heads in their direction.

Rushing to help her up, Spike felt a mix of embarrassment and concern. "Marion, are you okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

Marion, recovering from her fall with a hand to her head, looked up at Spike with a mixture of awe and incredulity. "Level 850? Spike, do you have any idea how extraordinary that is? You're not just a survivor; you're a phenomenon!"

Spike helped Marion back to her feet, offering an apologetic smile. "I guess it's been a pretty unusual time for me," he said, trying to downplay his remarkable achievement.

The incident quickly became the talk of the guild hall, with whispers and stares directed at Spike, now known not only as a dungeon survivor but as one of the highest-level adventurers in recent memory. Marion, back behind her desk but still visibly shaken by the revelation, assured him, "Spike, with a level like that, there's no telling what kind of quests you could take on. The possibilities are endless."

As Spike conversed with Marion about potential quests and the future that lay before him, he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement mixed with the weight of responsibility. His journey had taken yet another turn, propelling him into uncharted territory where his actions could shape not only his destiny but potentially the fate of many others.

The commotion caused by Marion's reaction and the subsequent murmurs of astonishment among the guild members did not go unnoticed for long. The guild master, a seasoned adventurer known for his leadership and wisdom, quickly emerged from his office to investigate the source of the disturbance.

"What's all this about?" the guild master demanded, his voice cutting through the chatter with an authority that immediately commanded silence.

Marion, still a bit flustered but composed, hurriedly explained, "Sir, it's Spike. His level—it's 850!"

The guild master's eyes widened in disbelief as he turned his gaze towards Spike. Approaching with a measured pace, he asked, "May I?" indicating he wished to see Spike's stat screen for himself.

With a nod, Spike obliged, showing his screen. The guild master took one look and staggered slightly, as if the numbers before him had dealt a physical blow. For a moment, it seemed as though he might share Marion's fate and topple over. However, he quickly regained his composure, though the shock remained evident in his eyes.

Realizing the implications of such a high level within their ranks, the guild master raised his voice, addressing the entire hall. "Listen up! What you've just learned about Sherman—Spike—stays within these walls. This is a TOP GUILD SECRET, not to be shared outside, under any circumstances."

He paused for emphasis, his gaze sweeping over the assembled adventurers, ensuring his message was received loud and clear. "Should this information leak, our instructors are prepared to enforce silence. Make no mistake; we will protect our own."

The guild members, sensing the gravity of his words, nodded in understanding. Whispers died down as the reality of the situation settled in—a sense of solidarity and purpose uniting them in secrecy.

Turning back to Spike, the guild master softened his tone. "Spike, would you please follow me to my office? There are matters we need to discuss, privately."

Spike, sensing the importance of the invitation, followed the guild master through the guild hall, leaving behind a crowd of curious and awestruck adventurers. As they entered the guild master's office, a sense of anticipation filled the air.

Once inside, the guild master gestured for Spike to take a seat before settling behind his own desk. The room was filled with artifacts and memorabilia from countless quests, each item telling a story of adventure and peril.

"Spike, your achievements are extraordinary, and they present us with both an opportunity and a responsibility," the guild master began, his tone serious but encouraging. "With your level and abilities, you could undertake missions of great importance, not just to this guild, but to the realm itself."

He paused, allowing Spike to absorb the weight of his words. "However, such power also attracts attention, some of it unwelcome. We must be cautious, strategic in how we proceed."

Spike listened intently, understanding the dual nature of his situation. "I'm ready to help in any way I can," he responded, his voice steady. "But I also want to make sure we're doing this for the right reasons."

The guild master nodded, pleased with Spike's response. "That's exactly the mindset we need. Together, we'll navigate these challenges, leveraging your strengths for the greater good while safeguarding against potential threats."

Their conversation continued, delving into potential quests, the guild's strategic goals, and the role Spike could play in achieving them. It was a discussion that would shape the course of Spike's journey, binding him even more closely to the Silver Moon Guild and its mission.

Continuing their discussion in the guild master's office, the atmosphere was filled with the promise of new beginnings and significant challenges. The guild master, leaning forward with a look of earnest consideration, presented Spike with a path that would not only utilize his unique abilities but also elevate his status within the guild and the broader adventurer community.

"Among all the quests we offer, dungeon crawling and exploration are by far the most prestigious and perilous," the guild master began, his voice carrying the weight of years of experience. "Given your remarkable level and proven resilience, I believe you're uniquely suited for these tasks. Therefore, I'm offering you a special guild card." He slid a sleek, intricately designed card across the desk. "This will allow you to venture into dungeons solo, bypassing the usual restrictions."

Spike picked up the card, examining its detail. The idea of exploring dungeons, each a mystery unto itself, was both exhilarating and daunting.

The guild master continued, "Moreover, to ensure your authority and autonomy within these environments, I'm elevating your rank to S-rank immediately. This status will provide you with the necessary clearance and respect, particularly from the dungeons' sentinels."

Spike nodded, understanding the significance of this designation. "I won't let you down," he assured, the weight of the responsibility settling on his shoulders.

The guild master then delved into a detailed explanation of the dungeons, categorizing them in a way that painted a vivid picture of the varied and dangerous worlds that lay hidden from the average eye. "There are three primary types of dungeons: Natural, created by the forces of nature; Magika, constructed by humans for various purposes; and Ethereal, spawned by monsters or demons, which are by far the most treacherous."

He paused, ensuring Spike was following, before elaborating on the classification based on their activity status. "Dungeons are also categorized as either 'Alive' or 'Abandoned.' Alive dungeons are a hotbed for monsters and contain untold riches and resources but are notoriously difficult to clear. On the other hand, Abandoned dungeons, though cleared of their primary threats, remain valuable for resource gathering and training."

Spike listened intently, absorbing the wealth of information. The complexity and depth of the dungeon ecosystem were far greater than he had imagined.

"The role of a dungeon crawler is critical," the guild master emphasized. "Not only do they seek treasure and challenge, but they also map these unknown territories, providing valuable intelligence on the dungeon's structure, inhabitants, and potential dangers. Despite a dungeon being marked as 'Abandoned,' its depths could still hold secrets and levels unknown to us."

Spike felt a surge of determination. The guild master's trust in him to undertake such crucial and dangerous missions was both an honor and a challenge he was ready to accept.

"Thank you for entrusting me with this responsibility," Spike said, his voice firm with resolve. "I'll prepare thoroughly and ensure I uphold the guild's reputation."

The guild master nodded, a look of satisfaction on his face. "I have every confidence in you, Spike. Remember, you're not just exploring for treasure or personal glory. You're contributing to our collective knowledge and safety. Every piece of information you bring back could save lives."

As Spike left the guild master's office, the special guild card in hand and an S-rank now attached to his name, he felt a new chapter of his life beginning.

As Spike made his way toward the guild's exit, still processing the weight of his new responsibilities and the potential adventures that lay ahead, Marion's voice halted his departure. Turning around, he approached the reception desk once more, where Marion greeted him with a bright smile, reflective of her pride in his achievements.

"Before you head out, I just wanted to officially congratulate you on your promotion to S-rank, Spike. It's a huge deal, and it comes with quite a few perks," Marion began, her enthusiasm evident. "For starters, you now have priority when taking on quests, which means you get first dibs on the missions that match your new status."

Spike listened, intrigued by the additional benefits that accompanied his elevated rank within the guild.

"Also," Marion continued, "you'll enjoy discounts at the guild's restaurant and other facilities. Oh, and there's the S-rank lounge—you should definitely check it out. It's a great place to relax or strategize for your next quest. Though, I must admit, it could use a bit of tidying up. I'll be heading there to clean up with the other receptionists shortly."

Before Spike could respond, Marion handed him a piece of paper, drawing his attention to the task at hand. He unfolded it to find a request form. The request was for a "Rank A or above dungeon crawler to assist in a minor expedition, please head to the Calcutta Dungeon ASAP!" The reward listed was substantial, piquing Spike's interest further.

"Looks like you've already got a mission lined up," Marion remarked, her tone shifting to one of professionalism. "The Calcutta Dungeon is no small feat, but I believe with your skills and new rank, you're more than up for the challenge."

Accepting the request, Spike felt a surge of excitement mixed with a hint of apprehension. The Calcutta Dungeon was notorious for its challenges and mysteries, and this would be his first official quest as an S-rank adventurer.

Marion then handed him a file, thick with information about the Calcutta Dungeon. "Here's everything we have on Calcutta. It should give you a good idea of what to expect and how to prepare. Also, this train ticket will get you to Heighspania, where the dungeon is located. The journey there is part of the adventure, after all."

Spike took the file and the ticket, grateful for the thorough preparation the guild provided its members. "Thank you, Marion. I'll make sure to go through this and be ready for whatever Calcutta has in store."

Marion offered a supportive smile. "We're all rooting for you, Spike. Safe travels, and don't forget to report back with your findings. The information you gather could be invaluable to us."

With the file tucked securely under his arm and the train ticket in his pocket, Spike nodded in acknowledgment. "I will. Thanks again for everything."

As he left the Silver Moon Guild, Spike felt a renewed sense of purpose. The Calcutta Dungeon awaited, and with it, the chance to prove himself in his new role.

2 HOURS LATER

The rhythmic clatter of the train as it carved its way through the countryside provided a soothing backdrop for Spike as he delved into the folder Marion had provided. The Calcutta Dungeon's history unfolded before him through the pages; once a notorious challenge that tested the mettle of the bravest adventurers, it had been declared "Conquered" a decade ago. Now, labeled abandoned, it seemed to have faded into the annals of adventurer lore. Yet, recent reports of strange activities within its depths had sparked concerns, suggesting that its story was far from over.

The dungeon was a labyrinth of traps and dangers, remnants of battles fought by both monsters and adventurers. As Spike absorbed the information, he made mental notes on strategies and precautions. The task ahead was daunting, but Spike felt a surge of determination. Every piece of knowledge gleaned from the file was a tool in his arsenal against the unseen threats of the Calcutta Dungeon.

As he set the file aside, the landscape outside the window caught his attention, a mosaic of natural beauty that contrasted sharply with the dark challenges that awaited him. It was in this moment of reflection that his phone rang, breaking the silence. Seeing Applejack's name on the screen brought an involuntary smile to his face.

"Hey, Applejack," Spike greeted, his voice betraying the warmth he felt at the sound of her voice.

"Spike! I heard you were headed out on another adventure," Applejack's voice came through, a mix of excitement and concern. "You be careful out there, you hear? Dungeons ain't nothin' to take lightly."

Spike chuckled softly. "Don't worry, I've got this. The guild's given me all the info I need on the Calcutta Dungeon. It's been abandoned for a while now, but there's some strange activity going on. I'm on my way to check it out."

Applejack's reply was earnest, her words carrying the weight of genuine concern. "Just promise me you'll stay safe. And call me as soon as you're done, alright? I wanna hear all about it."

"I promise," Spike assured her, feeling a renewed sense of purpose bolstered by Applejack's support. "I'll give you a call as soon as I'm back. Thanks, Applejack. It means a lot to have you in my corner."

As their conversation came to a close, the train began to slow, signaling its approach to Heighspania. Spike gathered his things, the file now securely tucked away but its contents etched in his mind. Stepping off the train, he was met with the bustling energy of the city, a stark contrast to the quiet anticipation that filled him.

Heighspania was the gateway to the Calcutta Dungeon, and as Spike made his way through the streets, he couldn't help but feel the weight of the adventure that lay ahead. The strange activities reported within the dungeon loomed large in his thoughts, a puzzle waiting to be solved.

Arriving at the Calcutta Dungeon's imposing entrance, Spike was immediately greeted by the sight of a young woman waiting outside. She was about 19, her appearance strikingly reminiscent of a mage out of storybooks. She wore a mage outfit, marked by its elegant design and rich colors that seemed to hint at deep knowledge and arcane power. Her hair was styled in a practical yet stylish manner, complementing her focused gaze and the intelligence that sparkled in her eyes.

As Spike approached, she turned to him with an expectant look. "Are you here in response to my call?" she inquired, her voice carrying a mix of hope and urgency.

"Yes, I am. My name's Sherman Drake, but feel free to call me Spike," he answered, extending his hand.

"Pleased to meet you, Spike. I'm Taylor Savant, but you can call me Twilight Sparkle," she introduced herself, shaking his hand with a firm grip that spoke to her resolve.

The name sparked a flash of recognition in Spike's memory, transporting him back to his school days. He remembered a younger girl asking him for directions, her face now clearly aligning with the woman standing before him. "Twilight Sparkle... I think we've actually met before. Back in school, I gave you directions once. You were in 6th grade, and I was in 9th," Spike recounted, hoping to jog her memory.

Twilight's expression, however, remained politely neutral, indicating no recognition. "Oh, I'm sorry. I don't quite remember that, but it's a small world, isn't it? Anyway, I'm really glad you're here. This dungeon has started showing signs of activity again, and I need help investigating it."

Spike nodded, understanding the seriousness of the situation. "I've read up on the Calcutta Dungeon. It sounds like it's full of challenges, even if it's been 'abandoned.'"

"Yes, and recent reports suggest that something—or someone—is stirring within its depths. It's critical we find out what's happening before it becomes a threat to the surrounding areas," Twilight elaborated, her tone laced with concern.

Their conversation turned towards the plan of action, discussing potential dangers and strategies for navigating the dungeon's traps and mysteries. As they spoke, Spike couldn't help but admire Twilight's knowledge and dedication. It was clear she was not just any mage but someone deeply committed to understanding and protecting the magical and natural world.

As they prepared to enter the dungeon, Spike felt a renewed sense of purpose. The Calcutta Dungeon was more than just an abandoned labyrinth; it was a puzzle waiting to be solved, and with Twilight by his side, he felt ready to face whatever secrets it held.

As Spike and Twilight ventured deeper into the Calcutta Dungeon, the air grew thick with the musty scent of disuse and the echo of their footsteps against the stone floor. Spike, with his rifle at the ready, scanned their surroundings for any signs of danger, his senses heightened by the anticipation of what lay ahead.

Twilight, on the other hand, found herself caught in a whirlwind of emotions. Walking beside Spike, she couldn't help but steal glances at him, her mind racing with thoughts of fate and destiny. "Is this an act of the divine? To reunite me with my first love under such extraordinary circumstances?" she pondered silently, her heart fluttering with each step they took together.

So lost was she in her thoughts that she barely noticed the unevenness of the dungeon floor. Her foot caught on a protruding stone, and she stumbled forward, her arms flailing for balance.

Quick as a reflex, Spike reached out, catching her before she could hit the ground. "Got you," he said, his voice calm and steady.

Twilight's face turned a shade of crimson that would have rivaled the setting sun. Mortified by her clumsiness and the sudden closeness to Spike, her mental breakdown escalated into a frenzied inner monologue. "Oh no, he touched me! This must be a sign, right? But what do I do now? Say thank you? But that's so mundane! Act cool, Twilight, act cool!"

Attempting to regain her composure, she stammered out a "Th-thank you, Spike. I must have... uh, lost my footing there."

Spike, with a gentle smile, released her once he was sure she was steady. "No problem, happens to the best of us. This place can be tricky to navigate."

As they continued on, Twilight's attempts to act nonchalantly only served to amuse Spike further. She would occasionally trip over nothing, get startled by her own shadow, or mumble incoherent 'strategic plans' under her breath, all the while sneaking glances at him.

At one point, Spike, unable to contain his amusement, chuckled softly. "You know, for a mage, you're quite the adventurer. Just try to keep an eye on the path as much as you do on... well, other things."

Twilight's face, if possible, turned an even deeper shade of red. "I... I'm just assessing all variables! Including potential... allies," she managed to say, tripping over her words as much as she did over the dungeon's floor.

Their journey through the dungeon was punctuated by these light-hearted moments, the tension of their mission momentarily lifted by Twilight's comedic missteps and Spike's good-natured teasing. Despite the unknown dangers that awaited them, the duo found comfort in each other's company, their initial awkwardness giving way to a budding camaraderie.

As they delved deeper into the dungeon's heart, the laughs they shared became a source of strength, a reminder that even in the darkest places, a light of humor and human connection could thrive.

As they navigated the winding passageways of the Calcutta Dungeon, the dim light from Twilight's staff casting eerie shadows on the ancient walls, Spike turned to his companion with a question that had been nagging at him since their journey began.

"Twilight, the file you sent didn't have much detail. What exactly is our mission here?" Spike inquired, his tone serious amidst the dungeon's oppressive silence.

Twilight paused, the light from her staff flickering slightly as she formulated her response. "Well, our primary goal is to explore and identify the cause behind the recent surge in activity within the dungeon. If we can, we're to engage and neutralize the threat," she explained, her voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space.

Spike nodded, processing the information. "And what kind of activity are we talking about? The file mentioned 'strange activity,' but that's pretty vague."

Twilight hesitated for a moment, seemingly choosing her words with care. "The reports we've received indicate an unusual and bountiful amount of foot traffic," she finally said. "It's odd because this dungeon was declared 'Abandoned' years ago. No one should be here, yet something—or someone—is drawing a crowd."

Spike furrowed his brow, the mystery deepening with Twilight's explanation. "Foot traffic? Here? That doesn't make any sense unless there's something valuable or dangerous hidden away. Or both."

Twilight nodded in agreement. "Exactly my thoughts. That's why we need to be extra cautious. Whatever is attracting people here could be incredibly valuable or incredibly dangerous. Our task is to figure out which and deal with it accordingly."

The weight of their mission settled over them as they continued their descent, each step taking them deeper into the dungeon's secrets. The idea of an 'Abandoned' dungeon suddenly becoming a hub of activity piqued Spike's curiosity and heightened his alertness. The mystery of the Calcutta Dungeon was more complex than he had initially thought, and the potential for danger was real.

As they moved forward, the occasional sound of distant echoes and the shifting shadows kept them on edge. Spike's hand tightened around his rifle, and Twilight's grip on her staff strengthened, both prepared for whatever lay ahead.

"Let's keep our eyes open and stay on our guard," Spike said, his voice low but firm. "If there are others here, we need to find out who they are and what they're after. And if they pose a threat, we'll be ready."

Twilight nodded, her determination mirrored in her eyes. "We'll solve this mystery, Spike. Together."

As Spike and Twilight cautiously navigated the dimly lit corridors of the dungeon's tenth floor, the tension in the air was palpable. Spike's acute senses had alerted him to the presence of numerous life forms ahead, prompting an immediate change in their approach. The addition of a silencer to his rifle was a silent testament to the seriousness of the situation they were about to face.

"What's going on?" Twilight whispered, sensing the shift in Spike's demeanor.

"There are people ahead, armed and numerous. We need to tread carefully," Spike responded, his voice barely audible as he surveyed the area with practiced eyes.

Twilight nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I can cast spells silently," she assured him, readying herself for whatever lay ahead.

Moving with stealth, they inched closer to the source of the activity, until they finally laid eyes on the gathering. Before them was a makeshift fortress, constructed within one of the dungeon's abandoned structures. The building, once a forgotten relic of the dungeon's past, had been fortified with barricades and makeshift defenses, transforming it into a stronghold of sorts.

The group occupying the fortress wore darkish blue armor, a uniform that spoke to their organization and intent. They were clearly prepared for a prolonged stay, with sentries posted and patrols moving in coordinated patterns around the structure.

Spike estimated there were at least twenty targets visible, though the number inside remained a mystery. Their presence here was no accident; this was a calculated occupation, suggesting a purpose far beyond simple exploration or looting.

Without warning, an alarm pierced the quiet tension, the sound echoing off the stone walls. The armed group immediately sprang into action, their weapons trained on Spike and Twilight's location.

"Take cover!" Spike shouted, his training kicking in as he grabbed Twilight, pulling her behind a nearby outcropping of rock just as gunfire erupted in their direction.

In the chaos, Spike managed to return fire, his silenced rifle emitting quiet puffs as bullets found their marks. But the enemy was well-prepared, and soon a massive ball of fire arced through the air towards them, a clear signal that they were dealing with more than just armed mercenaries.

With no time to spare, Spike acted on instinct. He tackled Twilight, and together they fell through a hole in the ground that had gone unnoticed until that moment. The ball of fire passed harmlessly overhead, its heat a fleeting warning of what might have been had Spike not reacted in time.

They landed in a lower level of the dungeon, dust and debris clouding the air around them. For a moment, they lay there, catching their breath, the sounds of the battle above muffled by the layers of stone between them.

"That was too close," Twilight gasped, her heart racing from the near miss. "Who are they? What are they doing here?"

Spike helped her to her feet, his mind racing with questions of his own. "I don't know, but they're organized and heavily armed. Turning that structure into a fortress... it's strategic. They're protecting or hiding something important."

The makeshift fortress they had stumbled upon was more than just a temporary encampment; it was a clear sign of a larger, more complex operation. The fortifications, the armed presence, and the use of magic all pointed to an entity with significant resources and a vested interest in the dungeon.

"We need to find out what's going on," Spike said, determination setting in. "But first, we have to get out of here and regroup."

Together, they began to explore their new surroundings, the unexpected detour forcing them to adapt their plan on the fly.

Regrouping after their narrow escape, Spike and Twilight found themselves at a safe distance, observing the fortress with renewed caution. The structure stood imposingly within the dungeon's expanse, its fortifications more apparent from their new vantage point. It was evident that the group occupying the fortress was not merely passing through; they were guarding something of significant value.

As they watched, Spike's strategic mind whirred into action. "They're definitely protecting something inside those walls. Something big," he murmured, more to himself than to Twilight. "But there's too many of them, and with our current firepower, we're at a disadvantage."

Twilight, ever the optimist, was hesitant to retreat. "But we managed to escape them once. Together, we might be able to fight our way in. You were able to fire back, after all."

Spike shook his head, a grim expression settling on his face. "It's not that simple. I noticed something during our exchange. They're wearing special armor. My bullets did hit, but they barely had any effect beyond momentarily winding them. We need a new approach."

Twilight's resolve faltered under the weight of Spike's reasoning. It was clear he had given this considerable thought.

Spike pointed to a high passage in the rocks, barely visible from their position. "There's a way out there. It's risky, but it could work. You could use it to get out and bring back help. Meanwhile, I'll try to infiltrate the fortress, disable their magic cannon, and find out what they're so keen on protecting."

The plan was daring, splitting them up when they had only just begun to work together. Twilight's concern was palpable. "That sounds incredibly dangerous. What if you're caught? Or worse?"

Spike met her gaze, his determination clear. "It's the best chance we have. I'm not thrilled about splitting up either, but this way, we can tackle the problem from two fronts. I need you to trust me on this."

Twilight, recognizing the logic in his words despite her fears, finally nodded in agreement. "Okay. I'll do it. I'll find help. Just... be careful, Spike."

Their plan set, they shared a moment of understanding, the gravity of the situation pressing down on them. Spike offered a reassuring smile. "I will. And you be careful too. We'll meet back here once it's all over."

With that, Twilight made her way towards the high passage, her steps quick but cautious. Spike watched her until she was out of sight, then turned his attention back to the fortress. He needed to move fast and silently to avoid detection.

Sneaking closer to the fortress, Spike's every sense was alert. The shadows provided cover, but the risk of being discovered was high. As he approached, the reality of his solo mission weighed heavily on him. Yet, the thought of what they might be protecting within those walls spurred him on. Whatever it was, it had the potential to change everything.

Spike's approach towards the fortress was marked by a silent, creeping dread that gnawed at his resolve. The weight of his mission, paired with the personal challenge of potentially taking a life, created a storm of emotions within him. As he drew closer to the unsuspecting guard, his mind raced with doubts and fears, a tumult that threatened to overwhelm him.

The quiet of the dungeon was shattered when Spike, arm extended with a knife in hand, found himself paralyzed by a sudden, gripping reluctance. The thought of killing, even in self-defense or for a greater cause, was something he hadn't fully reconciled within himself. His hesitation hung heavy in the air, a palpable tension that seemed to slow time itself.

Then, in a split-second decision that would alter the course of the night, Spike chose a different path. As the guard turned, surprise etching his features at the sight of an intruder so close, Spike's training kicked in—not to kill, but to incapacitate. With a swift motion, more reflex than conscious thought, he delivered a precise punch that sent the guard slumping to the ground, unconscious before he could sound the alarm.

Spike's heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of adrenaline and relief coursing through him. The immediate threat neutralized, he quickly dragged the guard to a concealed spot among the rocks, where the shadows enveloped them both. It was there, in the dim light, that inspiration struck—a plan that might offer him the advantage he desperately needed.

Working quickly, Spike began to strip the guard of his armor. Each piece was removed with careful, deliberate movements, the darkish blue plates soon forming a pile beside the unconscious man. As Spike donned the armor, piece by piece, he could feel his confidence returning. This disguise would offer him not just physical protection but a chance to blend in, to move among the enemy unnoticed.

The armor was a tight fit, clearly designed for someone of a different build, but Spike managed to adjust it well enough to pass a cursory inspection. He looked at the guard, now stripped to his undergarments, and felt a pang of guilt. "Sorry about this," he murmured, knowing the man couldn't hear him. "But I need to see what you're protecting in there."

Fully armored, Spike took a moment to assess his new appearance. The weight of the plates was unfamiliar, and the helmet limited his field of vision, but it was a small price to pay for the element of surprise. He left the guard hidden among the rocks, taking only his own resolve and the hope that this ruse would carry him through the dangers ahead.

Stepping back into the open, Spike moved with a newfound purpose. He kept his head down, mimicking the posture and gait of the guards he had observed. Each step took him deeper into the heart of the fortress, towards the unknown threat that awaited him within its walls.

The mission was clear: disable the magical cannon, uncover what was being so fiercely guarded, and, if possible, neutralize the threat. Spike's mind raced with possibilities, strategies forming and dissolving as he navigated the complex web of corridors and chambers that made up the fortress's interior.

As he moved, Spike couldn't help but wonder about Twilight, now on her own mission to find help. He hoped she was safe, even as he steeled himself for the challenges that lay ahead. Together or apart, they were a team, and he was determined to fulfill his part of their plan.

Spike, still adjusting to the weight of the armor and the echo of his footsteps, halted momentarily as the sentinel's voice rang out from above. 

“Oi, you, new kid, get your ass to the armory, right now!” the sentinel said

The directive to assist in the armory, delivered with an impatient command to "double-time it!" was a curveball, but one that Spike recognized as an opportunity in disguise.

"Understood, heading there now!" Spike called back, modulating his voice to sound as nondescript as possible. He caught the sentinel's parting mutter—"newbies... pain in the ass, that's what they are"—and suppressed a sigh. The disguise was holding up, but it was clear he needed to act every part the soldier to avoid suspicion.

Navigating through the fortress, Spike quickly took stock of its layout. The main level was bustling, a hive of activity centered around the courtyard and the armory, while the second floor, quieter and less frequented, housed the quarters, kitchen, prison, and storage facilities. His objective was clear, but first, he had to navigate the unexpected detour to the armory.

Upon entering the armory, Spike was met with the clanging of metal and the heat of forges. The blacksmith, a burly figure absorbed in the art of weapon-making, barely glanced at Spike before barking orders for him to assist with the firearms.

“About fucking time… see those guns? Get to work!” he said

Without missing a beat, Spike approached the workbench, where various parts of guns lay in disarray, waiting to be assembled and made functional. Drawing upon his master gunsmith skills, he set to work, his hands moving with practiced ease. However, his true intent was sabotage; each move was calculated to render the weapons ineffective without arousing suspicion.

As he adjusted triggers and tinkered with firing pins, Spike's mind raced with the implications of his actions. By sabotaging the armory's output, he was striking a silent blow against the fortress's occupants, buying time and potentially saving lives. Yet, the task required a delicate balance—to do enough damage to make the guns unreliable without making the sabotage immediately obvious.

"Make sure those are combat-ready by sundown," the blacksmith grunted, not bothering to look up from his own work.

Spike nodded, keeping his response neutral. "Will do," he replied, focusing intently on the task at hand. Inside, however, he was already planning his next move. With the armory's output compromised, he needed to find the magical cannon and discover what the fortress was protecting.

The moments ticked by, each one bringing Spike closer to uncovering the secrets of the fortress. As he worked, he couldn't help but think of Twilight, hoping she was making progress on her end. The mission had taken an unexpected turn, but Spike was adaptable, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead in the depths of the Calcutta Dungeon.

Spike's work in the armory was interrupted by the arrival of another soldier, whose urgent discussion with the head blacksmith instantly caught his attention. 

‘Hey Butch,” he said

“What?”

“The cannon is malfunctioning, think you can recalibrate it?”

“I’m busy,”

“When did I said I cared?” 

“Fuck you,” 

The mention of the magical cannon needing calibration was a crucial piece of information, and Spike's ears perked up despite his efforts to appear disinterested.

The blacksmith's frustration was palpable as he turned towards Spike, seeing an opportunity to offload the task. "You, you're almost done, get your ass to the cannon and fix it, now!" he barked, not hiding his irritation.

Without a word, Spike nodded, seizing this unexpected chance to approach the cannon—his primary target. He followed the soldier out of the armory, keeping his steps even and his expression neutral. The weight of the armor felt less burdensome now, driven as he was by the mission's urgency.

Upon reaching the cannon, Spike assessed it quickly, noting its formidable size and the intricate magic runes etched along its barrel. It was a weapon of significant power, and its sabotage was critical to undermining the fortress's offensive capabilities.

Working swiftly, Spike pretended to calibrate the cannon, all the while subtly altering its magical conduits and mechanisms to ensure it would malfunction if attempted to be used. His movements were precise, the result of years of training and experience, leaving no visible evidence of his tampering.

Just as he was finishing up, the soldier who had escorted him returned, peering through the cannon's scope to inspect Spike's work. "Good job, you're finally useful," he commented, a note of approval in his voice that was as close to a compliment as Spike had received since his arrival.

Before Spike could respond, a sharp crack echoed through the air—a bullet, precise and lethal, found its mark. The soldier slumped to the ground, lifeless, a small cloud of smoke rising from the wound in his head.

Chaos erupted instantly. Alarms blared, their shrill sound reverberating off the stone walls as the fortress's occupants scrambled to respond to the sudden attack. Spike ducked instinctively, scanning his surroundings for the source of the shot and the imminent threat it represented.

His heart racing, Spike realized the gravity of the situation. The fortress was now on high alert, and his presence near the cannon—especially in the aftermath of the soldier's death—would make him a prime suspect. The window for escape and further action was closing rapidly.

Adrenaline surging, Spike knew he had to act fast. The mission's objectives were clear: sabotage the cannon and uncover the fortress's secrets. Now, with the fortress in turmoil, he needed to use the confusion to his advantage, blending into the chaos as he sought to complete his mission and make his escape.

Amidst the sudden eruption of gunfire, Spike realized the precariousness of his position outside. The fortress had descended into chaos, the air now thick with the sound of bullets and shouting. His decision to rush back inside was instinctual, aiming to avoid the deadly crossfire and any potential identification as an enemy combatant.

As he navigated through the turmoil, a deafening explosion rocked the fortress's foundations, sending vibrations through the stone floors and walls. The cannon, sabotaged by Spike's handiwork, had detonated, its destruction marking a turning point in the fight. Smoke and debris filled the air, adding to the confusion and panic that had already taken hold.

Spike, seizing the moment of disarray, made his way to the second floor, intent on shedding the enemy armor that had served its purpose but now threatened to mark him as a target. The corridors were eerily quiet compared to the chaos below, a stark contrast that did not escape Spike's notice.

Upon entering the quarters, Spike was met with an unexpected sight: the prison cells, repurposed as a storage area, were filled with a large quantity of drugs, meticulously packaged and secured. The discovery underscored the true nature of the fortress's occupants, revealing the illicit activities that lay behind their armed presence.

Before Spike could process the scene fully, a stern male voice commanded him from behind, "Raise your hands!" The order, authoritative and menacing, sent a jolt of adrenaline through him. Spike tensed, preparing to confront yet another threat in the unfolding drama of the fortress.

However, the tense moment was unexpectedly broken by a familiar female voice, one that Spike recognized immediately—Twilight. "Spike!" she exclaimed, relief and concern mingling in her tone as she ran towards him, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug.

The sudden embrace momentarily stunned Spike, the warmth and familiarity of Twilight's presence a stark contrast to the cold, violent atmosphere of the fortress. "Twilight! How did you—?" Spike began, his question trailing off as he returned the hug, grateful for her unexpected appearance.

"I got help, just like we planned. But when I heard the explosion, I had to make sure you were okay," Twilight explained, pulling back slightly to look at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of injury.

The male voice that had ordered Spike to raise his hands interjected, its owner stepping into view—a member of the Army corps that had come to aid Twilight. The situation, however tense moments before, seemed to ease with Twilight's intervention.

“I apologize, the adrenaline got to me,” he said

Spike quickly realized the advantage of Twilight's timely arrival. Not only had she brought reinforcements, but her presence also offered a momentary reprieve from the relentless pursuit by the fortress's defenders. Together, they could navigate the next steps in neutralizing the threat posed by the fortress's occupants and uncovering the full extent of their illicit operations.

"Thanks for coming back for me," Spike said, his voice carrying a mix of gratitude and resolve. "We've got a lot to do here. This place... it's more than just a fortress. It's a front for something much bigger."

As Spike and Twilight exchanged a look of mutual understanding, they prepared to join forces with the newcomers, ready to delve deeper into the mystery of the fortress and put an end to the dangers it harbored.

Hours had passed since the tumultuous battle at the fortress began, and now, under the watchful eyes of the army corps, the operation was drawing to a close. The fortress, once a hub of illicit activity and danger, had been thoroughly cleared of its occupants. The enemies, caught off guard by the unexpected explosion of the sabotaged cannon and the malfunctioning of their firearms—courtesy of Spike's subtle tampering—had been neutralized in the ensuing chaos.

The aftermath of the fight revealed the true extent of the fortress's operations. The drugs, meticulously packed and hidden within the repurposed prison cells, were a testament to the scale of the criminal enterprise they had stumbled upon. The army corps, methodical in their approach, confiscated the illicit substances, preparing them for destruction. The estimated value of the drugs neared a staggering billion dollars, a figure that underscored the significance of their mission's success.

As the dust settled and the adrenaline of the moment waned, Spike and Twilight found themselves standing amidst the remnants of what had been a formidable stronghold. The weight of what they had accomplished together hung between them, a shared experience that had forged a bond of trust and camaraderie.

Twilight, looking at Spike with a mixture of gratitude and admiration, broke the silence. "We did it, Spike. I couldn't have asked for a better partner in this."

Spike, feeling the gravity of their goodbye, smiled warmly at her. "We made a great team, Twilight. I'm just glad we could put an end to this operation. The world's a little safer now because of what we did today."

The conversation paused as they considered the future, their paths about to diverge once more. "Promise me we'll keep in touch," Twilight said, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness at the impending farewell.

"I promise," Spike assured her, his words sincere. "After everything we've been through, I'm not about to lose contact with you."

With that, they shared one final hug, a silent acknowledgment of their shared ordeal and the unspoken bond it had created. It was a moment of closure, a brief pause to honor the journey they had undertaken together.

As they parted ways, Twilight watched Spike leave, his figure gradually disappearing into the distance. He was left with a sense of accomplishment and a newfound friend. The fortress, now secured by the army corps, stood as a testament to their victory against the darkness it had harbored.

Turning his gaze towards the horizon, Spike felt a stirring of resolve within him. The mission at the Calcutta Dungeon had been more than just an assignment; it had been a trial by fire, one that had tested his skills, his morals, and his willingness to fight for what was right.

Meanwhile, back at the entrance of the dungeon, Twilight quickly turned to look at the sunset and fished her phone out and dialed a number.

“Twily! Glad to hear from you! I hope everything went well” the voice said

“Yes, Cadence, it went perfectly,” Twilight said

“So, did you find it?” Cadence asked Twilight

“No, it wasn’t here, but, we did find a lot of drugs, which we have confiscated,” Twilight reported

“Excellent, we don’t need that garbage in our kingdom or domains,” said Cadance

“Yes… did my brother find anything?” asked Twilight

“Unfortunately, no, it seems whoever took the artefacts wiped their trails clean,” said Cadance

“Oh… well, we’re gonna have to keep looking,” Twilight said

“Indeed… by the way, I can’t help but feel you’re keeping some important development from me,” Cadance said

Twilight turned red but smiled and said “Actually… I found something… even better…”
> G.U.C.C. CH. 11 "Nazareth"
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A FEW DAYS LATER

In the tranquility of the early evening, a bus filled with laughter and the murmur of conversations made its way through the scenic routes back to Canterlot State University. The bus, carrying a group of female students from various fields of study, was returning from a field trip that had provided them with valuable insights outside the confines of their classrooms. Spirits were high as they shared stories and photos, recounting the day's adventures and the knowledge they had gained.

However, the serene journey took a sudden and terrifying turn as a van aggressively overtook the bus, forcing it to a grinding halt on the side of the road. Before anyone could react or understand what was happening, masked men armed with guns swiftly surrounded the vehicle. Tension gripped the air as fear replaced the earlier joy among the students.

One of the assailants, with a cold precision, threw canisters of sleep gas through the bus's open windows. Panic ensued as the gas quickly filled the interior, its soporific effect taking hold of the passengers. Despite their attempts to resist, one by one, the students succumbed to unconsciousness, their bodies slumping in their seats as the gas overwhelmed them.

With the bus now silent, the masked men boarded, their steps echoing ominously as they moved down the aisle, inspecting each of the unconscious passengers. Their search seemed aimless until they reached a girl with long pink hair, who lay unconscious like her peers. At the sight of her, one of the men spoke up, a note of triumph in his voice, "We got her."

Another voice, authoritative and cold, issued the next command, "Take them all, leave the driver; he wouldn't sell." The words were chilling, hinting at a nefarious purpose behind the abduction that extended beyond a single target.

As the assailants began to execute their plan, systematically removing the students from the bus, the driver, spared by virtue of his perceived insignificance, remained unconscious, a silent witness to the nightmare unfolding under the cover of darkness.

The abduction was swift and efficient, leaving behind no trace of the struggle that had taken place, except for the abandoned bus on the side of the road, its interior laced with the remnants of the sleep gas.

In the distance, the van, now carrying the kidnapped students, disappeared into the night, its destination unknown. The motivations behind the abduction remained shrouded in mystery, setting the stage for a desperate search for answers and a race against time to rescue the students from an uncertain fate.






ELSEWHERE

In a secluded room that served as the unofficial headquarters for the "Elements of Harmony," the air was usually filled with laughter, camaraderie, and the shared purpose of their quests. However, today was different. The members, including Sunset Shimmer and Starlight Glimmer, gathered around a large table littered with maps and ancient texts. They were deep in discussion about their next move in locating the mystical items they had been tasked with finding, a mission critical to the balance of their world.

“So, nothing in Calcutta?” asked Starlight

“No,” said Twilight

“Well, we need to keep looking, what about Demagorge Dungeon?” asked Sunset Shimmer

“It’s a start,” Twilight said

“By the way, I heard you ran into some, assistance at Calcutta,” Rarity said 

“Oh, yes, it was a big coincidence, it was a former classmate of ours, do you girls remember Sherman?” Twilight asked

“Nope,” most of them said

“Sherman… as in Sherman Drake?!” Applejack said

“That’s the one!” Twilight said

“YOU WERE WITH SPIKE IN CALCUTTA!” Applejack said as she jumped up, remembering Spike’s last mission was in Calcutta, whoever, she was unaware that Twilight had gone to the dungeon, with Big Mac and Braeburn’s incident taking up most of the space in her head.

“Wow, hold your boots Jack, what’s the big deal?” Rainbow Dash said

Applejack realized her reaction and tried to cover it, but her blushing face was too bright

“Ah… you know him don’t ya!” Rainbow Dash mocked

“More than that, Spike was the 3rd adventurer stuck with her brother and cousin, my guess is that once they made it out, her family made them marry each other, however, due to the lack of a ring, it is easy to deduce that you guys are dating!” Pinkie Pie said as with a massive smile

Applejack’s jaw dropped from being discovered

“Wow, Miss Perfect Boots, finally got a man!” Rainbow Dash said

“Yeah, that makes her the second… third, sorry Starlight, member of the group to be off the market, am I right, Pinkie dear,” Rarity said with Pinkie shaking her head in agreement.

However, Twilight was glaring at Applejack with such jealousy, you could feel her glare burning through everything in her line of sight.

Their concentration was broken when the door burst open. Princess Celestia and Princess Cadance rushed in, their usual grace replaced by urgency and worry. The abrupt entrance of the princesses immediately signaled to the group that something was amiss.

"Princess Celestia? Princess Cadance? What's wrong?" Twilight Sparkle asked, alarm evident in her voice as she and the others stood to greet their royal visitors.

The concern in Celestia's eyes was unmistakable as she scanned the room, her gaze lingering on the empty seat that should have been occupied by Fluttershy. "It's Fluttershy," she began, her voice heavy with worry. "There's been an incident. A bus carrying students from Canterlot State University was forced off the road, and... and Fluttershy was among those taken by unidentified assailants."

A collective gasp filled the room as the gravity of the situation sank in. The mention of Fluttershy's name in such a context was a shock to them all, rendering the room momentarily silent except for the sound of racing hearts.

"Taken? But why? Who would do such a thing?" Rainbow Dash demanded, her fists clenching as she struggled to process the news.

"We don't know yet," Cadance replied, her voice equally laced with concern. "But we've been informed that the attackers used sleep gas and took everyone on the bus, except for the driver. They specifically mentioned looking for a girl with pink hair before deciding to take them all."

"Fluttershy..." Applejack whispered, her usual strength faltering at the thought of her gentle friend in danger.

"We must do something," Rarity interjected, her resolve firm despite the fear that clouded her features. "We cannot simply sit here while Fluttershy is in the hands of those... those villains."

Sunset Shimmer, who had been listening intently, spoke up, "We'll find her. We have to start somewhere—any leads, any clues that could help us track them down."

Princess Celestia nodded, appreciating the determination that ignited within the group. "We're doing everything in our power to locate them. The authorities are on high alert, and we've mobilized all available resources. But your help, your unique abilities, might be what we need to bring Fluttershy and the other students back safely."

Starlight Glimmer, ever the strategist, began outlining a plan. "Let's divide our efforts. Some of us can assist in the search on the ground, while others can work on gathering intelligence. We need to act quickly and efficiently."

The room, once filled with uncertainty, now buzzed with the energy of a united front. The Elements of Harmony, bolstered by the addition of Sunset Shimmer and Starlight Glimmer, were no strangers to adversity. Yet, the kidnapping of their friend Fluttershy brought a new level of urgency to their mission.






WITH SPIKE, SOMEWHERE IN CANTERLOT

In the quiet, professionally appointed office of one of Canterlot's premier real estate agencies, Spike found himself seated across from an enthusiastic real estate agent. The agent's excitement was palpable, a sharp contrast to Spike's own contemplative demeanor. The office, adorned with glossy images of prime properties and awards boasting the agent's sales achievements, felt worlds away from the turmoil Spike had recently faced.

"You've made an excellent choice, Mr. Drake," the agent beamed, sliding a thick folder of documents across the polished mahogany desk towards Spike. "This mansion atop Everfree Hills is one of a kind. Its panoramic views, luxurious amenities, and, of course, its prestigious location make it a coveted property, it has 3 living rooms, 2 kitchens, 1 massive in house cinema, an olympic size pool with trampolines, a massive basement, a garage where you can park up to 10 cars, a fully equipped man cave, and of course, what makes the house perfect for you, the vast amount of bedrooms that the mansion possesses. And at 6 million dollars, it's quite the statement and deal"

Spike nodded, his fingers tracing the edge of the folder. The mansion, a sprawling estate surrounded by the untamed beauty of the Everfree Hills, was indeed everything the agent described and more. Yet, as he prepared to finalize the purchase, a nagging doubt lingered in the back of his mind.

"It's definitely impressive," Spike admitted, his voice betraying a hint of uncertainty. "I just... I'm not sure it's the right fit for me. I've always lived a more... straightforward life."

The agent, sensing Spike's hesitation, leaned forward, adopting a more persuasive tone. "Mr. Drake, a man of your accomplishments deserves a home that reflects his stature. You've become quite the hero around here, and this mansion—well, it's befitting a hero. Think of the parties you could host, the guests you could entertain. Not to mention, it's an excellent investment."

Spike listened, the agent's words echoing the societal expectations that had begun to weigh on him since his recent adventures had catapulted him into the public eye. The notion of hosting parties and entertaining guests was foreign to him, a far cry from the life he was accustomed to.

"I appreciate your perspective," Spike replied, his decision crystallizing as he spoke. "But I'm starting to think that maybe I don't need a mansion to be happy. My adventures, the people I've met along the way, the challenges I've overcome—that's what's important to me. I'm not sure if isolating myself in a mansion atop a hill is the answer."

The real estate agent, caught off guard by Spike's introspection, attempted to salvage the situation. "Of course, Mr. Drake, your happiness is paramount. If this property isn't what you're looking for, we have other listings that might better suit your needs."

Spike offered a small, appreciative smile. "Thank you. I think I need some time to figure out what I really want. It's not about the size or the price tag. It's about finding a place that feels like home… I’ll call you if I change my mind, or if I see something else that interests me"

As he stood to leave, the weight of the decision lifted from his shoulders. Spike realized that his journey had changed him, not just in the eyes of the world, but in his own understanding of what truly mattered. The quest for a home would continue, but it would be a search guided by his values and the life he envisioned for himself, free from the expectations of others.

Stepping out of the real estate office, Spike felt a sense of freedom.

Stepping out into the fresh air, Spike's mind was still swirling with thoughts about homes and what truly matters in life when his phone pinged with an unexpected notification. Expecting it to be another property listing from the eager real estate agent, he was caught off guard by the glaring headline that greeted him. His heart sank as he read about the abduction of the bus full of students from Canterlot State University, an event that seemed to grip the city with an urgency he hadn't seen before.

But it was the photo and caption about Francesca Saccone, known for her exceptional talent as an A-rank beast Summoner and Tamer, that made him understand the heightened response. Francesca was a respected figure, her skills not only rare but vital to the community for both her abilities and the safety she provided against potential threats.

As Spike absorbed the information, his phone rang, pulling him from his thoughts. Seeing Applejack's name on the caller ID, he answered immediately, concern lacing his voice. "Applejack, I just saw the news. What's happening?"

Applejack's voice came through, tinged with worry and determination. "Spike, it's bad. Fluttershy... she's one of the ones taken. We're all trying to figure out what to do, how to get her and the others back."

"I saw, Francesca, I think she was the main target. Any leads on who's behind this?"

"We're still piecing things together," Applejack replied. "But we could use all the help we can get. You're good at this kind of thing, Spike. We need someone with your skills."

Spike felt a resolve solidifying within him. "I'm on it. I'll do whatever I can to help bring them back safely. Just let me know where to start."

The conversation then took an unexpected turn as Applejack added, "Once this is done, you and I have some talking to do about you and Twilight at Calcutta."

The mention of Twilight and the sudden shift in Applejack's tone caught Spike off guard, a mix of confusion and unease settling in. "Uh, sure, Applejack. We can talk about that... But let's focus on finding Fluttershy and the others first."

"Right," Applejack agreed, though the promise of a future conversation lingered in the air between them.

With a new purpose driving him, Spike ended the call and made his way to the guild, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. The abduction of Francesca Saccone and the others, including Fluttershy, was more than just a local crisis—it was personal, and the urgency to act was now.

As he arrived at the guild, Spike couldn't shake the feeling of unease Applejack's last words had instilled in him. The matter with Twilight at Calcutta, whatever Applejack was referring to, would have to wait. Right now, there were lives at stake, and every moment mattered.

Determined, Spike stepped into the guild, ready to enlist the help of anyone willing to join the search for the kidnapped students. The mission ahead was daunting, but Spike knew he wasn't alone. Together with the Elements of Harmony and the resources of the guild, he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead to bring Fluttershy and the others home safely.

Spike's entrance into the guild was met with a scene of controlled chaos. The usually orderly space was now a hive of activity, with members of the guild forming search parties, pouring over maps, and debating potential locations where the kidnapped students could be held. The urgency of the situation was palpable, driving everyone to action, yet without a clear direction, their efforts seemed scattered.

Amidst the commotion, Spike's mind worked furiously, piecing together the information he had. Drawing on his recent experiences and the skills he had honed over time, he sought a logical conclusion to the whereabouts of the abductors and their captives. "Nazareth Dungeon, it's only logical," he murmured to himself, a realization striking him with clarity amidst the din.

The choice of Nazareth Dungeon as a hideout made sense. Its notorious reputation for being difficult to navigate, combined with its relative isolation, would make it an ideal spot for those wishing to avoid the prying eyes of the authorities and heroes alike. It was a place where dark deeds could be carried out in the shadows, away from the light of justice.

Spike was about to turn and share his revelation with the guild, to rally them to his cause, but he hesitated. A chilling thought crossed his mind, freezing him in place. If they approached with a large force, it could provoke the abductors into harming, or worse, killing the captives in a desperate bid to escape or as a twisted bargaining chip. The risk was too great.

With a heavy heart, Spike realized that this mission required stealth and precision, not the might of an army. He made the difficult decision to go alone, understanding that the element of surprise was his greatest ally in this endeavor.

"I need to do this by myself," Spike declared, more to himself than anyone else, as he turned away from the bustling crowd. His voice was steady, his resolve firm, despite the tumult of emotions churning within him.

Before he could slip away unnoticed, Marion, the guild receptionist who had seen him come in, approached him. "Spike? What's going on? Everyone's talking about forming search parties, but you look like you have a plan."

Spike met her gaze, the weight of the decision evident in his eyes. "I think I know where they might be holding the kidnapped students. But it's risky, and I can't put anyone else in danger. I have to go to Nazareth Dungeon alone."

Marion's eyes widened in understanding, and a flicker of worry crossed her features. "Alone? But, Spike, that's incredibly dangerous. Isn't there another way?"

He shook his head, a determined set to his jaw. "It's the best chance we have. I can move faster and more quietly on my own. I promise, I'll be careful."

Seeing the resolve in Spike's eyes, Marion knew further argument was futile. "Then at least let us help you prepare. You'll need supplies, and maybe there are some items or spells we can provide that will aid you."

Grateful for the offer, Spike nodded. "Thank you, Marion. I'll take all the help I can get."

As Marion hurried off to gather supplies, Spike took a moment to steel himself for the journey ahead. The road to Nazareth Dungeon was fraught with peril, but the lives of Fluttershy and the other students hung in the balance. With a deep breath, he readied himself for the mission, knowing that the fate of his friends rested on his shoulders.

The guild, though unaware of Spike's exact plan, rallied behind him, providing support in the way of provisions and equipment. Spike, armed with the knowledge and resources he needed, set out towards Nazareth Dungeon, the weight of a solo rescue mission pressing down upon him. Yet, amidst the fear and uncertainty, a spark of hope flickered.

Spike stood at the entrance of Nazareth Dungeon, his senses heightened and his mind alert. The tire marks, hastily attempted to be erased but still evident upon the ground, confirmed his suspicions. This was the place. Without hesitation, he stepped into the mouth of the dungeon, the darkness swallowing him whole as he ventured deeper.

The dungeon's reputation preceded it, known for its labyrinthine corridors and the dangers that lurked within. Spike moved with purpose, his training and instincts guiding him through the dimly lit passages. The silence of the dungeon was oppressive, a stark contrast to the chaos of the guild and the bustling city he had left behind.

As he descended to the third floor, the quiet was suddenly broken by the sound of rapid footsteps echoing through the stone halls. The erratic pattern of the steps, accompanied by the sound of heavy breathing, sent a rush of adrenaline through Spike's veins. His grip on his rifle tightened, the silencer affixed to the barrel a small comfort in the growing tension.

The footsteps grew louder, more frantic, as if whatever—or whoever—was approaching was in a desperate rush. Spike steadied himself, preparing for a confrontation, when suddenly, BAM! A force collided with him, knocking the wind out of his lungs and sending him stumbling backward.

Regaining his balance, Spike looked down to find the unconscious figure of a young woman with pink hair sprawled at his feet, she was barely dressed, with the only pieces of clothing being her bra and panties, however, with a quick glance, Spike could tell that they had been torn, and not by running, but as if someone tried to grab them and tear the off.

He knew who she was, it was Francesca, her long pink hair, and her massive chest gave her away.

The urgency of her flight suggested she was running from something, or someone, within the dungeon.

Quickly, Spike knelt beside her, checking for injuries and ensuring she was still breathing. She was alive but unconscious, likely from exhaustion or perhaps an encounter with one of the dungeon's many hazards. Spike knew he couldn't leave her here, vulnerable and alone.

With a gentle but firm grip, he lifted her into his arms, mindful of her condition. The mission to find the kidnapped students remained his priority, but now he had an immediate responsibility to ensure this woman's safety.

Spike moved swiftly, yet carefully, deeper into the dungeon, the unconscious figure of the pink-haired woman in his arms serving as a silent reminder of the urgency of his mission. After finding a relatively safe alcove shielded by an overhang of rock, he gently laid her down on a sleeping bag he had quickly unrolled. Assessing her condition, he cleaned and dressed the few wounds she had, which appeared to be minor scrapes and bruises, likely from her frantic escape.

Spike also used his cheat console to search for other, more, sadder injuries.

“It seems that there was only an attempt to rape her, however, whoever was going to do it was aiming for her anus, not her vagina…” he thought

As she began to stir, Spike prepared a small ration of water and food, hoping to offer some comfort after what he assumed had been a harrowing experience. The woman's eyes fluttered open, confusion and fear briefly crossing her face before she focused on Spike.

"Hey, you're safe now," Spike reassured her gently, offering a small smile. "My name's Spike. I found you unconscious back there. How are you feeling?"

The woman took a moment to gather her thoughts, her gaze lingering on Spike as if assessing whether she was truly out of danger. "I... I'm Francesca," she finally replied, her voice hoarse. Accepting the hoodie and pants Spike offered, she quickly changed into them, grateful for the modesty they provided.

Francesca took a deep breath before recounting her story. "Thank you, Spike. I was with the others from Canterlot State University when we were ambushed. They used sleep gas... I woke up in a cell deeper in this dungeon. I managed to escape, but the others..." Her voice trailed off, a pained expression crossing her face.







In a grim, dimly lit cell deep within Nazareth Dungeon, Francesca Saccone found herself awakening to a scene of despair. The air was thick with fear, and the sounds of distant cries of pain and begging for it to end, while the sound of bed frames moving echoed off the stone walls, creating a chilling atmosphere. She was not alone; other girls from the bus, their faces marked by fear and confusion, shared the cramped space with her. The reality of their situation was beginning to dawn on them all, a realization that brought with it an overwhelming sense of helplessness.

Suddenly, the heavy door to their cell creaked open, and a man stepped into the light. His presence immediately silenced the room, drawing all eyes to him. With a cold, calculating gaze, he scanned the faces before him, eventually settling on Francesca. He spoke with a chilling calmness, his words slicing through the thick air.

“Not to worry my darlings, you will all, be out of here soon, you will be sold as sex slaves to rich and influential men and women looking for a new fuck toy or toys, and Francesca here, well she is going to be out proud jewel, isn’t that right, Ms. Cow-titted beast tamer!” he said

The situation took a turn for the worse as the man's demeanor shifted from cold detachment to malevolence. He seized Francesca, pulling her from the cell amid the gasps and cries of the other captives. Francesca's heart raced, panic setting in as she was dragged away from the others and towards an unknown fate.

“You’ll be sold, not before I have my fun!” he said as he pushed her into an empty room, ripping her dress off and pushing her onto the bed, his dick mere millimeters away from her anus.

“If I were to take your real virginity, you’ll be cheaper, so, this’ll have to do… don’t worry, I know you’ll like it,” he said as he got closer.

However, something inside of her changed, and in a moment of pure adrenaline, she swung her leg upwards hitting her would be rapist in the groin, with such strength, he started to bleed off his mouth, before falling to the ground.

Francesca got up, in a brief moment of compassion, she checked on her attacker, but she was unable to find a pulse, meaning that she had killed… she had killed another human being, for the first time.

But she didn’t have time to stop and cry; Using her wind magic, Francesca propelled herself out of a window and into the night. The cool air rushed past her as she soared away from the dungeon, the weight of her harrowing experience a heavy burden on her shoulders. She flew as far as her strength would allow before fatigue set in, forcing her to land and continue on foot.

Her flight from the dungeon was a blur, a frantic dash for freedom that ended abruptly when she collided with an unseen obstacle. The impact sent her tumbling to the ground, consciousness slipping away as darkness claimed her once more.






Spike listened intently, his heart sinking as Francesca detailed the grim fate that awaited her fellow students. "They're planning to sell them as slaves," she revealed, the horror of the situation evident in her tone. "I overheard them talking about buyers coming to the dungeon soon. We don't have much time."

The weight of Francesca's words hung heavily in the air, galvanizing Spike into action. "We need to move fast then," he said, determination steeling his features. "Do you remember where they're holding the others?"

Francesca nodded, a flicker of hope igniting in her eyes at Spike's resolve. "Yes, I can show you. But we have to be careful. They're heavily armed, and there are traps all over the place."

Spike packed up their small camp with swift efficiency, his mind racing with plans and contingencies. "We'll rescue them," he promised, helping Francesca to her feet. "No one's going to be sold into slavery on my watch."

Together, they set off deeper into the dungeon, Francesca leading the way. Spike's rifle was at the ready, silencer affixed, his senses alert to any sign of danger. The knowledge of the kidnapped students' plight added urgency to their steps, each one taking them closer to a confrontation with the abductors.

Moments later, Spike and Francesca arrived at the same floor, the 3rd floor, as the fortress.

“Ok… do you know how many armed men are inside it?” he asked

“No… all I know is that I killed one of them… but, if I have to guess, around 20,” Francesca said

“Well, that’s gonna complicated things,” said Spike

Just then, they heard the front door of the Fortress fly open, and a woman in her mid 30s came flying out, followed by one of the kidnappers

“YOU FILTHY BITCH! YOU’RE OF NO USE TO US!” he said as he punched her straight in the face

“It’s… it’s not my fault I’m married… with children,” she said sobbing

“Yeah, well, now you’re gonna die!” the man said as he pulled out his gun

“SAVE HER PLEASE!” Francesca pleaded to Spike

Spike then readied his rifle and took aim, however, he started to hyperventilate, the thought of killing another human being conflicting within him.

However, he then heard the gun cocking, and the man aiming the gun at the woman, Spike then breathed in… and out.

BANG!

A loud thud was heard and when Francesca looked over the edge, she saw the woman running away from the body of the dead kidnapper, a puddle of blood starting to expand around his body.

She then looked at Spike, his eyes glued to the body of the kidnapper, not even flinching, his body tensed to such a degree, he looked like a statue.

“He’s dead!” she said as she tapped Spike on the shoulder, only for him to brush her off and say

“I know…” BANG… BANG… “But those 2 weren't,” Spike said.

Francesca looked over the edge and saw 2 more dead kidnappers, one of them was rushing to the alarm system, the other chasing after the woman, who was now mere feet away from Spike and Francesca

“FRANCESCA!” the woman cried

“MS. THOMASSON!” Francesca said as they hugged

“Thank you for saving her!” Francesca said to Spike

“Yes, thank you for saving my life,” Ms. Thomasson said

“It’s my mission… How many more are inside the building?” asked Spike

“10 more… although 4 of them are having their “fun” with some of the girls!” Ms. Thomasson said

“You 2 stay outside, but, I want you both to do something for me…” Spike said 

Once he gave them the instructions he got up and headed to the fortress.







Spike crept towards the fortress, making sure to pass by all the downed enemies and shooting them again, to make sure they were down, while at the same time, disarming them and looting them to find any information about who is responsible.

When Spike reached the steps at the front of the fortress, he could hear moans and pleading screams, this angered him even more making him want to run in guns blazing, but he knew that if he did that the girls' lives would be in even more danger.

Spike decided to be careful and take it slow, from what he had gathered, this men weren’t going to kill the girls, but sell them as sex slaves, however, it confused him why they were raping them, for him, it was common sense to sell them as virgins, since it would make them more valuable.

It just didn’t make sense at all.

As he was thinking that he heard a voice say

“Man I can’t wait for my turn, some of those girls have some amazing bazongas! Especially that pink haired girl, I wonder what cup she is… F-cup?... nah, to small definitely G-cup, and with her skinny, hour glass frame, you can tell where all the fat and nutrients go… man, I’m gonna have fun tonight…ACK!” the guard said as Spike shot him straight through the head, making him fall over the edge of the railing, landing in front of him with a thud, but because of the moans and screams, no one heard him.

Spike walked up to the dead guard and looted him, taking his phone and ID, however, before he could unlock the phone, he heard a door open and slam shut.

He quickly rushed over to where the sound came and saw a stairway heading downwards, he slowly made his way down the stairs, in time to see a guard pass by pulling a young, naked girl with him.

The girl was sobbing, and a small river of blood could be seen trickling down her legs.

“Man, your tight pussy was a real treat, I’m sure whoever buys you will be more than happy with you, even if you’re used,” the man said while laughing.

Spike crept behind them, slowly and quietly, as he followed the 2 deeper into the floor.

Soon, they arrived at the holding cells, where Spike noticed all of the kidnapped girls from the bus, minus the ones that were being “used” by the kidnappers.

However, there was one more thing that caught his attention, of all the 10 cells… only 1 was being used to hold the girls. Something was up.

Spike was wondering all this, when he noticed that the girl saw him, he quickly raised his finger to his mouth, telling her to stay quiet and to step away.

As soon as the guard finished opening the cell, the girl kicked him and stepped away.

“WHY YOU LITTLE…” the guard said before Spike shot him dead.

At that same moment, the girl fell to her knees and started to cry, then the other girls came out to hug her and comfort her, however, when they noticed Spike, they all froze.

Whoever, one of the girls just said “Thank you, for saving us,” 

“I’m not done yet… where are the others?” asked Spike

“They take us to the barracks and raped us,” said the girls that was crying.

“Yeah… how many here have been raped already?” he asked

Only the crying girl raised her hand

“Any of you who are no longer virgins?” asked Spike

And then, quite a few raised their hands.

“What about Ms. Thomsson? She was taken away, but when they found out that she wasn’t a virgin they took her outside,” said the crying girl

“I saved her, she is with Francesca,” Spike said

“Fluttershy? She got out?” another girl asked

“Yes, ran into me and passed out, then she brought me here,” said Spike

“We’re missing 4 more girls, they should still be in the barracks,” said another girl

“I can hear them,” said Spike, referring to the sobbing. “But what about the leader of all this?” asked Spike

“There’s an office near the barracks, he might be in there,” said another girl

“Ok, here, these are the keys for the cell, I’ll bring the other girls first, then, I’ll go for the boss,” said Spike as he told the girls to get back inside, handing the girl with the highest level the guard’s rifle.

With that, Spike headed for the barracks, making sure not to give his position away.

When he entered the barracks, Spike noticed that it resembled a big house, with a massive living room and kitchen on the bottom floor, and the bedrooms up stairs.

He quietly made his way upstairs.

He was just about to reach the last step, when the door right to his left swung open, revealing another kidnapper leaving the bathroom with a proud smile.

“Well, my darling, time for round tw…” was the last thing he said as Spike fired one shot, hitting him straight in the neck.

The kidnapper fell to the ground, holding his neck as blood started to flow out of the wound and his mouth.

He then noticed Spike standing a few feet away, and with the last of his strength the man raised his hand and gave Spike the middle finger as he died.

“Fuck you too mate,” Spike said as he opened the door to his right which revealed a girl, probably in her early to mid 20s, crying on the floor.

When she looked up and saw Spike, she almost started to scream, but he immediately showed her that he was there to save her.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Spike asked

The girl sobbed but shook her head.

“Ok, you know how to get to the cells from here?” he asked

The girl nodded

“Ok, grab some of the blankets, cover your body and head over there quietly, the other girls are waiting for you,” he said

She immediately did as she was told, while Spike kept watch by the door.

The second she was ready, she walked over to Spike, hugged him and whispered “Thank you… so much,”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said as he motioned her to leave, which she immediately did.

With that, Spike set his sights on the other three motherfuckers.

The barracks were massive, there were at least 20 rooms if not more, but most of them were unoccupied.

That’s when Spike heard another door opening, just down the hall.

He quickly jumped inside one of the rooms, he then noticed some clothes on the floor, next to a dead kidnapper “This must be Francesca’s fight or flight response,” he said as he hid next to the door frame.

He could hear 2 sets of footsteps coming, one heavier than the other.

“You should be honored, you know how many woman would love to be fucked by me, and yet I gave you the honor of being one of my sex toys.” the man said just before Spike grabbed him shoved him against the wall and stabbed him through the neck, Spike’s eyes staring into the man’s eyes with such hate and anger that all the kidnapper could do while dying was do his best to scream and fear, something he was unable to do as Spike twisted the knife, killing him faster.

As the man fell to the floor, dead, Spike turned to look at the girl.

“Are you physically hurt?” he asked the girl, who was not older than 19.

“Not much… he was rough… but… it's mostly emotional pain and disgust,” she said as she teared up

Spike wanted to comfort her, but he knew it wasn’t a good idea at the moment.

Spike gave her a quick hug and handed her some blankets “get to the cells, the other are there already,” he said 

“Thank you,” she said as she ran off

“2 down… 2 to go,” Spike said as he looted the one he just killed

With that Spike continued to walk down the hall, following the sound of bouncing springs.

BUt as soon as he reached the last 2 rooms, he found them both locked.

Spike knew that he had to act fast, since now his cover would be blown.

Hoping for the best, Spike quicked the door to his left down.

The guard jumped in surprise, but all he was able to do was pull out of the girl he was raping before Spike left his body like swiss cheese.

When the guard fell, the girl said “You killed him… you should kill all of them,” 

“That’s the plan,” Spike said as the girl grabbed her clothes and ran out towards the cells.

Spike then turned to the last remaining door.

He could hear voices coming from the inside

“You say a word, and you’re toast, ya get it!” the man said followed by a female whimper

Spike then kicked the door down, sending the kidnapper flying, shooting him dead before he could even get up.

“Thank you!” the girls said as she grabbed her clothes and ran out.

“Now for the leader” Spike said as he walked towards the office

Spike advanced through the dimly lit corridors of the dungeon, his senses alert to every sound. The closer he got to the heart of this nefarious operation, the heavier the air seemed, charged with a palpable sense of dread and malice. Upon reaching the office of the kidnappers' leader, he paused, listening to the muffled voice talking over the phone

“Yeah, I’ve got the fucking merchandise… I don’t fucking care, the rich kid is down here… yeah, I think he is using one of them right now… hey, if he said it was fine, then it is fine… fine, bye.” 

As soon as the call ended, Spike didn't hesitate. He kicked the door open and entered, immediately targeting the man who had orchestrated the terror inflicted on countless innocents. The shot he fired struck true, hitting the leader in the shoulder and sending him staggering back with a cry of pain.

The man crashed to the ground, clutching his wounded shoulder, his face contorted in agony. Spike advanced, his rifle still aimed at the writhing figure on the floor. "Start talking," he demanded, his voice icy with resolve. "Where are the girls? Who's behind this?"

The leader, through gritted teeth, laughed bitterly, a sound devoid of any real humor. "You think you've won? You've just signed your death warrant. The ones above me... they don't forgive, and they don't forget."

Spike's expression hardened. "I'm not interested in their forgiveness. I want answers. Now."

But the man shook his head, a twisted smirk on his lips despite the pain. "Death is better than betraying them. You have no idea what you're messing with. They will hunt you down. You and everyone you care about."

Spike's grip on his rifle tightened, frustration and anger boiling within him. It was clear this man wouldn't divulge anything useful willingly. Yet, the mention of "the ones above" confirmed Spike's fears—this operation was just a cog in a much larger, more sinister machine.

"Then I'll just have to find the answers myself," Spike said coldly, stepping back and ready to leave the man to his fate. He knew time was running out, and every moment wasted here was a moment the kidnapped students remained in peril.

As he turned to leave, the man's voice followed him, a venomous whisper filled with pain and malice. "You're a dead man walking, hero. They'll come for you. They'll come for all of you."

Spike then turned back and grabbed the leader by his collar.

“What are you doing?” said the leader

“Sending a fucking message,” said Spike as he dragged the boss out of his office.

“Where are you taking me?” asked the boss

“Move,” Spike said as they passed by the cells

The girls looked up and saw Spike holding the leader at gunpoint

“Head to the barracks… wait for me there… and no matter what you hear, do not look out the windows,” Spike said coldly.

“Understood,” the girl holding the rifle said as they all rushed out.

“What, you think you’re some sort of super hero, that those girls will love you, they’ve been marked, they’re no longer pure, no one would love them, but sure as hell pay a good price for them,” the leader said

“Move” said Spike as he smacked the leader with the bud of his rifle

Spike lead the leader all the way outside, and was met by Ms. Thomsson and Francesca

“Are they safe?” asked Ms. Thomsson

“Yes, they’re in the barracks,” said Spike

“Thank you,” they both said as they rushed in, heading for the barracks

“Now what hero?” the boss mocked

“Strip,” said Spike

“What? You gonna rape me you faggot as bitch,” said the leader

Spike then shot him in the leg “I won’t repeat myself,” Spike said as the leader fell to the floor holding his leg.

“Ok, ok!” he said as he started to take his clothes off.

Once he was done, Spike made him walk towards the middle of the courtyard, where there was a massive statue.

Spike then walked over and noticed that Francesca and Ms. Thomsson had done their part and prepared the ropes.

“So, now what, you gonna sodomise me for everyone to see?” asked the leader

“Not me… but this,” Spike said as he grabbed a long metal rod and shoved it into the leader's ass.

The leader screamed out in pain

“FUCK YOU!” he said through the pain

“No thanks, I prefer tits, rather than dicks… Especially one so small,” Spike mocked as he tied the rope around the boss.

“Y-you can’t do this, I am a human, I have rights!” the boss yelled out

“Really, what about the girls you and your men were raping, dont they have human rights as well?” asked Spike

“Fuck you, and them, only God has the right to judge me,” the leader said definitely

“You’re right, let’s hurry your meeting up a little, shall we,” Spike said as he hoisted the leader up into the statue.

“Hey.. HEY!... at least… at least let me say a prayer first!” the leader said 

Spike looked at him and said

“You can pray through the flames” as he threw a molotov cocktail at the leader, and in a matter of seconds the man became a living fireball, his screams of pain, suffering and fear ringing all over the dungeon.

After a few more seconds, he stopped squirming and yelling, signaling he was dead.

Spike then walked towards the entrance of the fortress, but only made it a couple of feet before he fell to his knees, and began to tremble and cry.

Then he felt someone hugging him tightly, holding him to calm down.

“It’s alright… everything is ok…” Francesca said as she held Spike as he cried.






10 MINUTES LATER

Spike finally calmed down and headed back to the barracks, once there, Ms. Thomsson had just finished arranging all of the belongings of the dead guards.

Spike walked over and read them

“Peter Martz, 28, career criminal… Logan Duzek, 45… registered sex offender and criminal… Mike Dunne, 30, sex offender… Alex Mathews, 35, former military, dishonorable discharge… De’Andre Jackell, 27 former military, dishonorable discharge… Chris Watts, 40 former military, dishonorable discharge… Ramon Alvarado, 39, known gang member and human trafficker… Mitch Burgess, 35, former military, dishonorable discharge… Zachary Van Larssen, 23, university student, heir to the Van Larssen state and Omega Corp… and Lucios Johnson, 48, former military, dishonorable discharge… I can see a pattern,” said Spike

“Yes, indeed, I have already contacted authorities, they will be here in minutes,” Ms. Thomsson said.

With that Spike turned to look at the girls.

“How are you holding up?” he asked them

“We’re fine… I’m concerned for the 5 girls that were raped though,” the girl Spike gave the rifle to said

Spike looked over at them, using his cheat console.

They were severely traumatized, and Spike worried that they would try to take their lives… it was here when Spike noticed a small function in the screen

“Traits menu”

Spike clicked it and was able to see the girls' traits, scrolling down, he then saw the traits he feared “Has had oral sex” “Has had vaginal sex” “has had anal sex” the five girls all had this traits. 

Spike looked at them sadly, wondering what he could do.

When he couldn’t think of something, he was going to scroll up, and accidentally touched one of those traits, and a message appeared “Would you like to remove this trait” Spike clicked “yes” and did the same thing over and over again for the girls.

When he refreshed this same menu, he saw the traits gone or replaced with “sexually virgin” trait

He then walked up and gave the girls some “phoenix tears” however, he told them it was something else.

Once the girls drank the liquid, they felt different

Spike then said

“I’m sorry that I am unable to remove those horrible memories from your mind… but just know, that if you ever fall in love again, and I pray to God you do… your bodies will be completely pure,” he said

The girls didn’t understand it at first, however, one of the other girls who was a nurse in training, went over and started a cavity check on the girls, once she was done she said

“Your hymens… their intact,” all the girls then turned to look at Spike, who had removed his skull mask.

“I can heal your bodies, but not your minds, that’s all up to you,” he said.

In a matter of seconds, the five girls rushed over and hugged him, crying and thanking him, over and over again.






As the chaos of the rescue operation began to settle and the last of the ambulances started their journey to the hospital, Spike found himself standing amidst the aftermath, trying to process the whirlwind of events that had just unfolded. The gratitude from Captain Flash Sentry, a well-respected member of the royal guard, was a bittersweet reminder of the reality they had all been thrust into.

"It was the only thing I could do," Spike reiterated, his voice carrying a weight of resolve mixed with a tinge of weariness. He understood the magnitude of what had been accomplished, yet the journey felt far from over.

Captain Flash Sentry nodded, his expression one of sincere appreciation. "Your bravery today saved many lives. Remember, if you're ever in need of support, the royal guard is at your disposal. Captain Flash Simmons, or Flash Sentry—don't hesitate to reach out." With a respectful nod, the captain turned and rejoined his team, leaving Spike to his thoughts.

Before he could fully grasp the moment's solitude, a gentle but unexpected embrace caught him off guard. Francesca's arms wrapped around him from behind, her gratitude palpable in her embrace. "Thank you, Spike, for saving us," she whispered, her voice laced with emotion.

Spike turned to face her, a soft smile gracing his features. "It was nothing. But seriously, you should get checked up," he insisted, his concern for her well-being overriding the moment's fleeting warmth.

Francesca nodded, understanding his concern. "I will," she promised, before a playful glint appeared in her eyes. She pinged her phone with his, a digital exchange in an age where such gestures held more weight than ever. "Fluttershy?" Spike queried, surprised, looking down at the new contact on his phone.

"That's what my friends call me," Francesca—Fluttershy—admitted, a shy smile spreading across her face. "Hope to see you again... if you want," she added, her voice barely above a whisper as she stepped back, boarding the ambulance.

Spike watched the vehicle pull away, a mix of emotions swirling within him. The name 'Fluttershy' echoed in his mind, a moniker that hinted at a depth and resilience belied by its gentle sound. The encounter, though brief, had left an indelible mark on him. He had stepped into the fray as a lone wolf, driven by a relentless pursuit of justice, but emerged with a newfound connection that promised the beginning of something more.

As the ambulance disappeared into the distance, Spike turned back to the scene before him, the weight of the day's events settling heavily on his shoulders. Yet, amidst the exhaustion and turmoil, a spark of hope flickered. The ordeal had brought them together, strangers bound by a shared experience, and now, the possibility of a future friendship—or perhaps something more—loomed on the horizon.

With a deep breath, Spike prepared to leave the dungeon behind, the memory of Fluttershy's gratitude and the promise of a new beginning fueling his steps.
> G.U.C.C. Ch. 12 "Jericho"
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two days had passed since Spike's daring rescue at Nazareth Dungeon, an act that had not only saved Fluttershy and the other girls from a fate too grim to contemplate but had also solidified his status as a true hero among the ranks of the guild. Yet, in the aftermath of such a harrowing experience, Spike found himself lost in a profound silence, seated in the plush comfort of the S-rank VIP room within the guild.

His unmoving figure had become a source of growing concern among the guild members, who had taken to whispering worriedly amongst themselves. The once-celebrated atmosphere of camaraderie and jubilation that typically filled the guild had been replaced by an undercurrent of apprehension for their newfound hero.

Marion, ever attentive, had noticed Spike's uncharacteristic behavior first. Her concern grew with each passing hour that he remained in his self-imposed isolation, neither eating, sleeping, nor acknowledging those who tried to reach out to him.

"I'm really worried about Spike," Marion confessed to a group of fellow guild members gathered just outside the VIP room. "It's like he's shut down completely since he came back. Has anyone been able to get through to him?"

Sunstreak, seasoned adventurer and rescuer, known within the guild for his wisdom and experience, shook his head. "I tried talking to him earlier. Offered to buy him a drink, even share some tales to lighten the mood, but he wouldn't respond. It's as if he's here, but not really here, you know?"

Another member, Nightingale, a young mage who admired Spike's bravery, added, "He did something incredible, saved all those people. But it's like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders now. Maybe he's still processing everything that happened?"

The conversation was tinged with a sense of helplessness, each member grappling with how best to support someone who had become a symbol of hope and strength for them all.

Marion bit her lip, her concern deepening. "We have to do something. He can't go on like this. It's not healthy, physically or mentally. Maybe we should contact Princess Celestia or Princess Luna? They might be able to help him through whatever he's dealing with."

The suggestion sparked a glimmer of hope among the group. The Princesses, with their vast knowledge and magical prowess, were known for their wisdom and compassion. If anyone could reach Spike and help him navigate the darkness that seemed to have enveloped him, it was them.

"I'll draft a message to the Princesses," Marion decided, her resolve firm. "In the meantime, let's keep an eye on him. Make sure he knows he's not alone, even if he's not ready to talk. We're his family here, and we look out for our own."

Nods of agreement met her words, each member of the guild united in their concern for Spike. As Marion set about contacting the Princesses, the others dispersed, returning to their duties but with a renewed sense of purpose. Spike had fought for one of their own; now, it was their turn to stand by him, ready to offer the support and understanding he so clearly needed.

In the shadowed quiet of the VIP room, Spike remained oblivious to the flurry of activity his condition had inspired.

Spike sat motionless in the dimly lit comfort of the S-rank VIP room, his body a mere shell housing a tumultuous storm of thoughts and emotions. The silence around him was deafening, a stark contrast to the chaos that raged within his mind. The events at Nazareth Dungeon replayed over and over, each detail etched into his memory with painful clarity.

Meeting Fluttershy, or Francesca, had been a beacon of light in the darkness of that place. Her gratitude, the warmth of her embrace, offered a fleeting moment of solace, a reminder of the lives he had fought so desperately to save. But even that small comfort was overshadowed by the darker aspects of the rescue—the violence, the fear, and most hauntingly, his first kill… and then, the ending of it all…

The leader of the kidnappers, Lucios Johnson, now represented a line Spike had crossed from which he could never return. He had taken many lives, not out of malice but necessity, yet the weight of that act bore down on him with a crushing force. The man's final moments, the torture, the screams of pure pain and dispair from burning alive, the look in his eyes as the life drained out of him, haunted Spike. It was a look that conveyed not just pain but a warning of the consequences to come.

"I'm turning into a monster," Spike whispered to himself, the words barely audible in the silence of the room. The justifications for his actions, the lives saved, did little to ease the growing sense of dread that had taken root in his soul. Nyxian's final words, a cryptic message from a being that was more shadow than substance, echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of the darkness that now seemed to envelop his every step.

"You have become one of us..."

What did it mean? Was he destined to walk a path marked by violence and death? The thought terrified him, the fear of losing himself to the very darkness he fought against becoming an ever-present specter.

The faces of the girls he had rescued, their tears of relief and whispered thanks, served as a counterpoint to his spiraling thoughts. They were the reason he had ventured into the depths of Nazareth Dungeon, the reason he had risked everything. And yet, the cost of their salvation weighed heavily on him, a burden he was unsure he could bear.

As the internal battle raged on, Spike remained locked in his solitude, wrestling with questions that had no easy answers. The line between hero and monster had blurred, leaving him adrift in a sea of doubt and fear. How could he reconcile the violence he had inflicted with the person he wanted to be? Could he ever find peace, knowing the darkness that now lingered at the edges of his consciousness?

The struggle was far from over, and as Spike sat alone in the VIP room, he knew that the journey ahead would be one of the most challenging he had ever faced. Finding a way to live with the actions he had taken, to understand the cost of heroism, and to confront the darkness within would require a strength he was not sure he possessed.

The heavy door to the VIP room creaked open, breaking the silence that had enveloped Spike in his cocoon of introspection. The Guild Master, a figure of authority and respect within the guild, stepped inside with a presence that seemed to fill the room. Without a word, he pulled up a chair and sat down in front of Spike, his eyes meeting Spike's with an intensity that commanded attention.

"Spike," he began, his voice carrying a weight that seemed to acknowledge the gravity of Spike's turmoil. "I've been where you are now. The path of an adventurer, a hero... it's fraught with moments that challenge not just our physical strength, but the very essence of who we are."

He paused, allowing his words to sink in before continuing. "The act of taking a life, regardless of the circumstances, leaves a mark on you. It's a burden that can consume you if you let it. I remember the first time I was faced with that choice. It haunted me, kept me awake at night, questioning if I was any different from those I fought against."

Spike listened, the Guild Master's words resonating with him more than he expected. Here was someone who understood, someone who had walked the same dark path and emerged on the other side.

"The way you dealt with the leader of the kidnappers," the Guild Master continued, his tone even, "it was a decision made in the heat of the moment, a choice between lesser evils. It's not the act itself but how you let it define you that matters. You saved lives, Spike. You brought hope to those who had none."

He leaned forward, locking eyes with Spike. "But it's also important to face the demons that come with such actions. To confront them, understand them, and ultimately, find a way to live with them without letting them consume you."

The Guild Master stood up, moving to the window and gazing out at the bustling city below. "When I was a rookie, much like you, I struggled with the same demons. It took time, but I learned that seeking forgiveness, first from yourself and then from those you've saved, can be a powerful step towards healing."

Turning back to Spike, he offered a small, understanding smile. "Take some time, Spike. Step away from the guild, from the missions. Go for a walk, clear your head. The world outside these walls can offer perspective, a reminder of why we do what we do."

Spike felt a weight lift off his shoulders, a sense of understanding and acceptance flowing through him. The Guild Master's words offered not just advice but a lifeline, a way to navigate the stormy waters of his conscience.

"Thank you," Spike managed to say, his voice hoarse but sincere. He stood up, feeling a newfound resolve stirring within him. The road to reconciliation with himself was long, but for the first time since the incident, it seemed possible.

As he left the VIP room, the bustling sounds of the guild greeted him, a reminder of the life that continued to flow around him. The Guild Master's advice echoed in his mind, a beacon guiding him towards the light. With a deep breath, Spike stepped out into the world, ready to face whatever lay ahead, armed with the wisdom to confront his inner demons and the courage to seek the healing he so desperately needed.







MEANWHILE

Downtown Canterlot bustled with the usual energy and vibrancy characteristic of the city's heart. Applejack and Fluttershy navigated through the crowded streets, the former keeping a vigilant eye on their surroundings, a protective instinct honed from years on the farm now directed at her friend.

"Ya don't have to hover, AJ. I'm fine, really," Fluttershy assured her, her voice soft but firm, trying to ease the concern she saw etched on Applejack's face.

Applejack huffed, adjusting her hat with a stubborn tilt of her head. "I know, Sugarcube, but after everything that's happened, I just wanna make sure you're safe. Can't be too careful, y'know?"

Their conversation meandered as they continued their stroll, touching on trivial matters and the shopping list that had brought them out into the city. However, the topic inevitably shifted to Spike and his heroic actions at Nazareth Dungeon.

Fluttershy's eyes lit up at the mention of his name. "Spike was so brave, wasn't he? Saving us all like that... He's kind of like a knight in shining armor."

Applejack's expression tightened momentarily, a flicker of jealousy clouding her features before she quickly masked it with a smile. "Yeah, he did good. Spike's always been the type to jump in and help when needed."

Their conversation paused as they reached the Pet Shop, Fluttershy's intended destination. "I'll be just a minute, AJ. You don't have to wait out here for me."

"Nonsense, I don't mind waitin'. Take your time," Applejack replied, her gaze still scanning the crowd as Fluttershy disappeared inside the shop.

Alone now, Applejack's thoughts wandered back to Spike, concern gnawing at her for not having heard from him in the past two days. She pulled out her phone, thumb hovering over his contact, debating whether to check in on him, when her attention was abruptly snatched away by the screech of tires.

A black van had pulled up beside her, and before she could react, several men jumped out. Applejack's reflexes kicked in, and she fought back fiercely, but the element of surprise and their sheer numbers overwhelmed her. A sharp pain at the back of her head was the last thing she felt before darkness claimed her.

Inside the Pet Shop, Fluttershy had been browsing through the aisles when a sense of unease prompted her to look outside. To her horror, she saw the tail end of the abduction, her friend being pulled into a van that sped away into the city's heart.

Panic set in, her mind racing with fear for Applejack's safety and confusion over who could be behind this. Fluttershy knew she had to act fast. Running out of the shop, she barely registered the concerned calls of the shopkeeper as she darted into the street, desperately trying to spot the van that had vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

Torn between going after Applejack and seeking help, Fluttershy's thoughts went to Spike, the hero who had saved her and her friends. If anyone could help now, it was him. But with Spike unreachable in his own turmoil, Fluttershy felt a chilling sense of helplessness wash over her.

The streets of Canterlot, once a place of safety and familiarity, now seemed fraught with danger at every turn. Fluttershy needed to find help, and fast. The Royal Guard, the police, anyone who could aid in Applejack's rescue.

As she hurried to find someone who could help, Fluttershy's heart was heavy with worry for Applejack, the friend who had always been there for her, now in the hands of unknown adversaries. The urgency of the situation propelled her forward, her determination to bring Applejack home safe burning brightly amidst the fear and uncertainty that threatened to engulf her.

The crisp air of the park was a soothing balm to Spike's troubled thoughts. The open space and the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze allowed him to breathe more freely than he had in days. His mind, so long ensnared in a web of darkness and doubt, began to glimpse the possibility of light ahead. It was during this rare moment of tranquility that his phone vibrated, slicing through the silence and anchoring him back to reality.

Seeing Fluttershy's name flash across the screen was a surprise. His brow furrowed in confusion as he answered, "Fluttershy? Is everything okay?"

The panic and urgency in Fluttershy's voice hit him like a physical blow. "Spike, it's Applejack—she's been taken. Right in front of the Pet Shop, a black van just... they took her!"

Spike's heart skipped a beat, and a cold fury began to simmer within him. "Where and who?" His voice was a low growl, the words spoken with a deadly calm that belied the storm raging inside him.

"It—it looked like the same kind of van that was chasing the bus, the one from... from the kidnapping," Fluttershy stammered, her voice trembling with fear and desperation.

Spike's mind raced, connecting the dots. The implications were clear, and the realization that this nightmare was far from over galvanized him into action. "Fluttershy, I need you to stay where you are. I'm coming to you. We'll find her, I promise," Spike said, his voice firm, trying to instill a sense of hope in both Fluttershy and himself.

"Please, Spike, you have to save her," Fluttershy pleaded, her voice breaking.

Spike clenched his fists, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders once again. "I will. Stay safe, and don't hang up. Keep talking to me until I get there."

As Spike dashed out of the park, his strides long and determined, the serene afternoon took on a sinister shade. The bustling city around him seemed oblivious to the darkness that had just encroached upon their lives once more. With every step, Spike's resolve hardened. The thought of Applejack, strong and fearless, now in the hands of unknown enemies, ignited a fire within him.

He listened to Fluttershy describe the incident in more detail as he moved, her voice a constant presence in his ear. The descriptions, the location, everything she said was cataloged and analyzed, forming a plan of action in Spike's mind. He knew the stakes were high, and the odds were against them, but failure was not an option. He had made a promise, not only to Fluttershy but to himself.

As he neared the Pet Shop, the reality of the situation set in. Applejack's abduction was not just an attack on her but on all of them. The enemy, whoever they were, had just escalated the conflict to a new level. Spike understood that the coming confrontation would test him in ways he had never imagined. But for Applejack, for Fluttershy, and for all those who had suffered at the hands of these villains, he was ready to face whatever came next.

Spike arrived on the scene to find the area cordoned off by police tape, with officers moving about, taking statements from witnesses and trying to piece together what had happened. The atmosphere was tense, a stark contrast to the usually peaceful streets of Downtown Canterlot. As he approached, his presence was like a beacon to Fluttershy, who broke through the crowd and enveloped him in a desperate hug, seeking solace in the midst of chaos.

It was in this moment of shared concern that Flash Sentry made his way over to them, his expression grave. "Spike, good you're here. We've got a bit of a situation," he began, quickly briefing Spike on the findings. "From what we've gathered, it looks like they've taken Applejack to the Jericho Dungeon. It's in the next town over, but there's a catch."

Spike's focus sharpened, his mind already racing with plans and possibilities. "What's the catch?" he asked, his voice steady despite the rising storm within.

Flash's jaw tightened, a clear sign of his own frustration. "The lord of that land isn't exactly on friendly terms with Canterlot. Political tensions, territorial disputes... it's a mess. Officially, our hands are tied. We can't just march in there without causing a whole heap of diplomatic trouble."

The words hit Spike like a physical blow, the implications clear and dire. The bureaucratic red tape and political maneuvering were going to delay any official rescue operation, time which Applejack, and potentially others, did not have.

Seeing Spike's clenched fists, Flash placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Look, unofficially, everyone here wants to see Applejack safe just as much as you do. If there's anything we can do, without stepping on too many toes, you have my word, we'll do it."

Fluttershy, still clinging to Spike, looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes. "You're going to bring her back, aren't you, Spike?"

Spike met her gaze, a fierce determination burning in his eyes. "I am. I'll bring her back, Fluttershy. I promise."

Turning back to Flash, Spike asked, "Any idea on the specifics? Guards, security, layout of the dungeon?"

Flash nodded, pulling out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handing it over. "Here's what we know so far. It's not much, but it's a start. The dungeon's been abandoned for years, so it's likely they're using its complexity to their advantage. Be careful, Spike. This isn't going to be easy."

Taking the paper, Spike unfolded it, scanning the scant details it provided. Every piece of information was a potential key to saving Applejack and thwarting those who had taken her.

"Thank you, Flash. And Fluttershy, stay safe. I need to know you're okay when I get back," Spike said, offering her a reassuring smile before turning to leave.

As he walked away, the weight of the task ahead settled on his shoulders. The Jericho Dungeon, a notorious labyrinth of danger and mystery, now stood between him and Applejack's safety. But no dungeon, no political barrier, and certainly no group of kidnappers were going to stop him.







BACK AT THE SILVER MOON GUILD VIP LOUNGE

Spike was preparing to head out and save Applejack from her kidnappers, when he heard a loud thud behind him.

The sound of the heavy thud jerked Spike out of his focused preparations, his head snapping up to see the formidable sight of Big Mac, Bright Mac, Pear Butter, and Caramel framed in the doorway of the VIP lounge. Each one of them was armed, determination etched into their features, an unspoken promise of action hanging in the air between them.

"What are y'all doing here?" Spike asked, though the answer seemed painfully obvious given their armed state.

"We're here to save Applejack," Big Mac stated, his voice a deep rumble of resolve. "Ain't no way we're sitting this one out."

Spike's heart swelled with gratitude for their solidarity, yet his strategic mind foresaw the potential consequences of their well-intentioned plan. "Listen, I appreciate this more than you know, but if we all storm in there, we're likely to start a war. We can't afford that kind of attention—not if we want to get Applejack back safely."

It was Caramel who spoke up next, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by a focused intensity. "Then let's give them something else to focus on. We'll serve as a distraction for the army while you sneak into the dungeon."

The suggestion hung in the air, heavy with implications. It was a risky maneuver, one that could potentially put them all in grave danger. Yet, it also presented a viable strategy that could divide the attention of their adversaries, allowing Spike a better chance of infiltrating the dungeon and rescuing Applejack.

Spike weighed their determined faces, the depth of their loyalty to Applejack—and to him—making his decision all the more difficult. "Are you sure about this? It's going to be dangerous," he cautioned, searching their faces for any sign of hesitation.

Bright Mac stepped forward, his expression resolute. "We know the risks. But Applejack is family. And you don't turn your back on family, not when they need you the most."

Pear Butter nodded in agreement, her maternal fierceness shining through. "We'll do whatever it takes to bring our girl home."

The resolve in their voices, the unwavering determination in their eyes, left no room for further argument. Spike knew he couldn't dissuade them, and deep down, he recognized the strategic advantage their plan offered.

"Alright," Spike conceded, the weight of leadership settling upon him. "We do this together, but we do it smart. We'll need to coordinate our efforts to ensure the distraction is effective and that we minimize the risks as much as possible."

The group gathered around a map of the area surrounding Jericho Dungeon, plotting out their approach and detailing the roles each would play in the operation. The atmosphere was charged with a blend of tension and camaraderie, a testament to the bonds forged through shared purpose and unwavering loyalty.

As they finalized their plans, Spike couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude and pride for the extraordinary individuals standing with him. Together, they were about to embark on a daring rescue mission, driven by love, loyalty, and the unbreakable spirit of friendship.

With a final nod of solidarity, they prepared to set out, each person aware of the dangers ahead but buoyed by the strength of their united front.






ELSEWHERE

Applejack's senses slowly returned to her as she regained consciousness, the discomfort of the hard, cold floor beneath her the first stark reminder of her situation. Blinking against the dim light, her gaze swept across her surroundings, taking in the grim reality of her imprisonment within the walls of the Jericho Dungeon fort.

The cell was not solitary; across from her and along the length of the corridor were other cells, each holding girls around her age and some noticeably younger. A sense of dread settled in her stomach as she realized the extent of the operation she had unwittingly become a part of. The clank of military boots and the uniformed figures moving with purposeful strides added to the oppressive atmosphere of the dungeon.

Before she could fully gather her thoughts, a voice cut through the silence, its tone carrying a mix of gloating and appraisal. "You'll fetch a pretty coin, Ms. Amazonia." The man who spoke was nondescript, yet the smugness in his voice was palpable.

Applejack's confusion was momentarily pushed aside by anger, her hands clenching into fists despite the helplessness of her situation. Before she could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps heralded the arrival of more individuals.

A man, clearly of some importance given the way the others deferred to him, stepped into view, his attire far too fine for the dank confines of the dungeon. He was flanked by guards, his presence demanding attention.

"Is she here?" he inquired, his voice carrying a tone of disinterest that clashed with the gravity of the situation.

"Yes, awake, and sellable," the man named Cass responded, his words sending a shiver of revulsion down Applejack's spine.

The well-dressed man, whom Cass addressed with a certain deference, surveyed Applejack with a critical eye. "Very well, but I have to tell you, Cass, if it weren't because our 'friend' is paying me a lot of money, I wouldn't even dream about helping y'all out," he stated, his voice dripping with disdain.

Cass's reply came with an assuredness that belied the danger of their enterprise. "Don't worry, your highness, I have everything under control."

With a nod that seemed to convey both agreement and warning, the lord turned on his heel and departed, his entourage in tow, leaving Applejack to process the exchange.

The gravity of her situation became painfully clear. Not only was she a prisoner, but she was also a pawn in a larger scheme, one that involved high-stakes dealings and shadowy figures of power. The mention of a 'friend' paying for her capture suggested a targeted abduction, one that went beyond random chance.

Anger and fear warred within Applejack, but beneath it all lay a steely resolve. She was not about to let her captors break her spirit. As she observed the other girls, a plan began to form in her mind. She needed to find a way to communicate with them, to unite in their common plight and look for a way to escape.

But first, she needed to gather information, to understand the extent of the operation and identify any weaknesses she could exploit. The lord's departure had left Cass as the immediate authority, and from the snippets of conversation, it was clear he played a pivotal role in the trafficking ring.

Applejack's thoughts raced, her mind working overtime to devise a strategy. She was determined to fight back, to protect herself and the other girls, and to find a way out of this nightmare. The first step was to feign compliance, to lull her captors into a false sense of security. From there, she would watch, wait, and when the moment was right, act.






NEAR THE BORDER WITH MARVANWORTH

At the border with Marvanworth, the tension was palpable as Big Mac and his family, along with Caramel, approached one of the numerous military checkpoints that dotted the landscape. The atmosphere, already charged with the anticipation of their mission, grew heavier as they rolled to a stop, the eyes of the soldiers scrutinizing them with an intensity that suggested they were more than mere travelers on a family trip.

When the soldier sauntered over, his demeanor was casual, but his gaze was sharp, cutting through any pretense. "State your business," he demanded, his voice betraying no emotion.

Big Mac, ever the calm presence, offered a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just taking the family out for a bit of a trip, sir," he replied, his tone light, attempting to diffuse any suspicion.

But the soldier wasn't buying it. Without missing a beat, his hand moved towards his weapon, his stance shifting to one of alert. "I think you'll need to come with us for a—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Caramel acted. With a swift movement borne out of necessity, he lobbed a keg of dynamite at the checkpoint. The explosion that followed was not just a literal blast but a metaphorical one, signaling the start of an unexpected confrontation.

Confusion reigned as the checkpoint erupted into chaos. Soldiers scrambled to respond, their organized demeanor shattered by the sudden attack. In the ensuing gunfight, the sounds of gunfire and shouted commands filled the air, a cacophony of violence that stood in stark contrast to the mission's initial intent of stealth and distraction.

Big Mac, seizing the moment of disarray, shouted to his family and Caramel, "Move! Now!" His voice was a beacon, guiding them through the chaos.

As they exchanged fire with the soldiers, Pear Butter's voice cut through the noise, her words directed at Caramel with a mix of fear and determination. "We need to get out of here without causing more trouble!"

Caramel, reloading his weapon with practiced ease, called back, "Just providing the distraction we promised, ma'am! But you're right, let's push through and make it count!"

“TO THE NEXT CHECKPOINT, KILL ALL THEM SONS OF BITCHES!” Bright Mac said as he got off the car and started shooting left and right, killing every soldier he saw.

The skirmish, while intense, was meticulously executed. Each member of the group, despite their apprehension, moved with a purpose, covering each other's advances and killing every soldier in the checkpoints.

As the sounds of battle began to erupt around them, the realization of what they had just initiated began to settle in. They had crossed a line, engaging in direct conflict to create the diversion necessary for Spike to infiltrate Jericho Dungeon and save Applejack. The weight of their actions, the potential repercussions, loomed large, but so did the urgency of their mission.

Big Mac, leading the group away from the chaos, knew the path ahead would be fraught with more challenges. Yet, the resolve in his heart remained unshaken. They had taken the first step in a dangerous dance, one that would test their limits but one they were willing to undertake for the sake of family.

As they pushed forward to the next checkpoint, the echoes of their defiance lingered, a clear message to all who stood in their way: they would stop at nothing to bring Applejack home.







Spike was getting closer and closer to the entrance of the Jericho dungeon when KABOOM!

He turned around and saw the massive smoke mushroom that was coming from the checkpoint that Big Mac had driven to.

At that moment Spike started to hear many approaching footsteps.

“RED ALERT, WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!!!” came a voice from within the dungeon

Spike instinctively jumped behind a boulder, as the first soldier started to appear rushing over to the personnel carriers and jeeps.

As Spike crouched behind the boulder, his heart racing from the sudden explosion and the rapid approach of soldiers, the scene before him unfolded like a nightmare. The air was thick with tension and the acrid smell of gunpowder. Duke Waldemar Danton's voice cut through the chaos, his orders sharp and his disdain for Canterlot palpable. 

“FOR FUCK SAKES! IT’S THOSE FUCKING CANTERLOTIANS, THIS MEANS WAR! KILL THEM ALL!... YOU, TAKE SOME MEN AND GO BACK IN THERE AND PROTECT THE GOODS, IF ANYONE COMES EVEN CLOSE TO THIS DUNGEON, KILL’EM,” Duke Danton said as he got on his royal car and sped away.

Spike's mind reeled at the implications of Danton's involvement and the depth of the conspiracy they were up against.

No sooner had Danton left and his men disappeared back into the dungeon than Spike was on his phone, dialing Flash Sentry with urgency. The line connected, and Spike wasted no time in relaying everything he had just witnessed.

"Flash, it's Spike. You're not going to believe this—Duke Danton is involved. He's coordinating with the kidnappers, and they're using the dungeon as a base," Spike reported, his voice a mix of anger and disbelief.

There was a moment of stunned silence on the line before Flash responded, his tone grave. "Spike, are you sure? This is... this is serious. Danton's involvement could mean a lot more than we anticipated."

"I'm positive. I just saw him giving orders to reinforce the dungeon with more guards. They're preparing for something big," Spike said, peeking over the boulder to ensure the coast was clear.

Flash's voice hardened with resolve. "Understood. I'm mobilizing a detachment of soldiers now. We'll be there as fast as we can. Hold your position, Spike."

Spike's concern deepened. "Flash, are we ready for this? If we confront Danton directly, this could escalate into a full-blown conflict."

Flash Sentry's response was firm, a testament to his dedication to justice and the safety of Canterlot's citizens. "Spike, the moment Danton decided to aid these criminals, he chose his side. We can't let him or anyone else think they can endanger our people without consequence. We'll handle the diplomatic fallout later. Right now, our priority is rescuing Applejack and the others."

Spike took a deep breath, the weight of the situation settling on his shoulders. "Alright. I'll do what I can from inside the dungeon. You go and help Big Mac and his family get rid of all the checkpoints. Be careful, Flash."

"Same to you, Spike. See you soon," Flash replied before ending the call.

Spike tucked his phone away, his mind racing with strategies and contingencies. The stakes had never been higher, and the challenges never more daunting. Yet, the resolve in Flash's voice, the knowledge that help was on the way, bolstered Spike's determination.

With that, Spike quickly rushed into the dungeon, his rifle at the ready, and his mind set on one of objective, Save Applejack.







MEANWHILE BACK INSIDE THE DUNGEON’S FORTRESS

Everyone had heard the explosion and felt the rumbling of the ground.

Applejack noticed all of the guards going nuts, scrambling to get to the new location and take vantage point.

After a few minutes, she stopped hearing the guards running around near the cells, so she assumed they had all gone to higher levels, or exited the fortress.

This is when she realized something, that explosion had to be Spike or her family, or even her friends, it also meant that every single soldier and corrupt adventurer in the land would be going over to fight, leaving them incredibly outnumbered.

However, the more she thought about it, the more she started to remember how Spike operated, if the stories her brother and Braeburn told her, then Spike was more than likely near, or already within the dungeon, having used the explosion as a diversion.

This gave Applejack an idea, if she could just slip out and reunite with Spike, then they could both liberate the fortress and head out to help in the real battle.

And so, she quickly crawled over to the bars and using her well known strength, easily made a dent big enough for her to crawl out from.

She was just about to leave, when another girls said

“Please, put the bars back to normal, if they see the dent, they’ll kill all of us,” 

Applejack nodded and undented the bars.

With that, Applejack started to silently try to find her way out of the fort.

After a few more seconds of running around, she heard a pair of guards walking back towards the cells.

“Do you think we’re gonna win?” asked one of them

“Of course, this was the perfect excuse for us, with the money this rich guy is giving our nation for being a melting pot for every single sex slave they are to cell, we can buy the best of the best when it comes to equipment, especially those nukes,” said the other

“We haven’t received those yet,” said the other guard

“They’ll be here by tomorrow, we just have to hold on for a few more hours and then… bye bye Canterlot,” said the other.

Just as they turned the corner, Applejack jumped the both of them, kicking one of the guards straight through the wall, while the other cut off guard, swang at her wildly, making his best effort to keep her at bay, but, it was easy to notice that, all that equipment was wasted on this soldiers, as they didn’t have the proper training.

Applejack easily dodged his attacks and punched him in the gut, winding him, and before he could even react, she axe kicked him so hard, she bashed his skull in and broke the guy's neck and spinal cord, killing him the second his head landed on the ground.

The second guard, got up from the rubble just in time to see his comrade die; unable to use his weapon the guard took out his hunting knife and lunged at Applejack, but she easily disarmed him, and tripping the guard, making him fall to the ground and skid all the way to the wall at the back, hitting his head.

Before he could react, Applejack grabbed the knife in mid air and threw it at the guard, hitting square between the eyes, killing him instantly.

“Wow, y’all claim to be great warriors, but, well, compared to my family, y’all are nothing but newbies. Now, time to get-ACK!~” Applejack said as she felt a strong electric shock run to her body, making her fall to the ground, in a semi-conscious state.

“Woah! Tasers, never leave home without them, Ain’t I right, cowgirl!” Cass said as he appeared behind her holding a taser.

“Y-you!” Applejack said before Cass slapped her across the face

“Shut up, girly, your ass is mine now,” Cass said as he grabbed Applejack by the hair and pulled her away towards the barracks.

Once inside the room, Cass shoved Applejack onto the bed as he walked over to the night stand.

“Why-why are you doing this?” Applejack asked him

“Why else, it pays well… plus, those below me, are of no interest to me at all, unless I can profit from them,” Cass said with a sadistic smile as he turned towards Applejack

Applejack, finally regaining some of her senses, realised what he was planning to do to her, and she immediately jumped off the bed and tried to run, only for Cass to fire his taser at her again.

Applejack felt the jolt of electricity, and her body started to freeze up and spasm, however, she refused to let her body fall and fail her, she knew she had to run, she had to protect her purity, she needed to, for she only wanted to lose it to Spike.

“You annoying bitch!” Cass said as he rushed over and slapped her, making her fall back onto the bed. 

“Maybe this will help get rid of that nasty and unsubmissive personality of yours,” Cass said as he pulled out a syringe with a pink liquid inside of it.

Applejack tried to kick herself free, but due to the electric shock, her legs were semi-numb, making it easy for Cass to inject the full amount of the drug into Applejack’s system.

“Now, let’s give it a few minutes for it to take effect… and then… we’ll see how you walk with an injured hip,” Cass said, smiling at Applejack’s despair.






MEANWHILE OUTSIDE THE FORTRESSES’ GATES

“HIS OVER HERE! KILL’IM-ACK!” said another guard as a bullet flew straight through his head

“WHAT IS THE GUY!” said another guard as he continued to fire

“NO MATTER WHAT WE DO HE DOESN’T DIE!!!” said another as more and more guards rushed out opening fire on Spike, who took little to no cover, as he ran towards them like a mad man

“KILL HIM!” said another as Spike jumped up into the air, using his wings to land on top of him and kill him

“HE’S A DEMON!!!” screamed another guard as his body was left like swiss cheese by Spike’s rifle

“NO, HE’S A DRAGONBORN! SWITCH TO-ARGH!!” said another guard as he died as well.

“EVERYONE! RUSH HIM!!!” commanded another one, and with that, they all charged at Spike

At that moment, Spike’s body convulsed a little as a green light emanated from his veins, making his muscles bulk, and his eyes turning into green flames.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS HE!!” screamed another soldier

[“USER HAS ENTERED RAGE MODE… to all the enemies nearby… SEE YOU ALL IN HELL!”] the console displayed as Spike lunged at the guards.

The bullets bounced off of his body, as he got closer and closer to them.

As Spike reached the first group of guards, he immediately started to show them the Monster he had become.

The second his fists made contact with their faces or bodies, they spontaneously combusted, their screams of pain feeling the air, but Spike didn’t care as he shot them down, or treated them as rag dolls throwing them around.

“EVERYONE, RETREAT! GET INSIDE THE FORT!” the commander ordered as the remaining soldiers ran in and closed the gate.

“This gate is reinforced, there is now one in the world, not even God can dent this gate,” the commander said as the soldiers breathed a sigh of relief.

“Call for reinforcements, this guy won’t be able to kill all of us,” the commander ordered another soldier

The soldier was about to dial, when they started to hear grunts and punches hitting the gate.

“HA, THIS IDIOT THINKS HE CAN BRING THE GATE DOWN!” the commander laughed with the soldiers

Just then, they heard a guttural roar, and the loud bang, when they looked at the gate, they noticed a massive dent in it.

“What the fuck~” was the last thing the commander said before the gate fell of it’s hinges and came flying at them.

Many soldiers jumped out of the way, but many others, including the commander, were crushed by the gate or falling debris.

When the dust settled, the remaining soldiers aimed their guns at the massive opening which was once a gate and opened fire, but when the last part of the dust dissipated, they saw no one there.

“Where did he go?” asked one of the soldier

“Maybe we spooked him,” said another

Just then, they heard a snap behind them, they all turned and saw another soldier fall to the floor, his neck broken, and standing behind him was Spike, his face emotionless, his eyes fixed on them all.

The guards screamed and opened fire, but Spike ducked behind a pillar and returned fire, quickly killing the remaining guards.

After making sure that all the guards were dead, Spike’s heartbeat started to go crazy as he started to gasp for air.

“DANGER! DANGER! ERROR DETECTED! USER’S HEART RATE HAS ELEVATED BEYOND DANGEROUS LEVELS! BEGINNING THE END OF RAGE MODE!” the computer voice said

With that, Spike fell to the floor, his muscles convulsing as they shrank, his breath rugged.

After a few seconds, Spike coughed out and threw up some blood.

“Man, that was painful,” he said as he wiped his mouth “Now to find Applejack!” 






MEANWHILE

Applejack laid on the bed, her corporal heat rising, as well as her arousal, which she was fighting as much as she could, however, it was so much she had to take her clothes off, staying completely naked.

“Oh, it seems, you are almost ready for the party,” Cass said as he took of his shirt “Don’t worry, baby girl, I’ll make you enjoy it,” he said as he took his pants off, letting it and his underwear fall to the floor

“M-make me… enjoy… with t-that l-little thing, HA! Don’t m-make me l-laugh,” Applejack taunted him.

“We’ll see who is laughing when I’m done!’ Cass said as he got closer but stopped when they both heard loud footsteps getting closer.

“What the fuck!” Cass said, and as soon as he said that,  Spike broke through the door and shoved Cass so hard he went through the window and fell to his death.

“To hell with you, motherfucker!” Spike said as he looked at Cass’ dead broken body lying at the bottom of the courtyard.

“S-Spike!” Applejack moaned

“Applejack! Are you o~k?” he said as he turned around and turned red “Why are you naked!!!” he said as he looked away

Spike was really confused, but then he noticed the syringe on the night table and he was fully aware of what was going on just in time to feel Applejack's naked body straddle his, turning his face to see her and her lips pressing firmly to his own. 

Gasping and moaning, Applejack was almost pleading to him, wanting him to do it.

“Please Sugarcube… I needed it!” she begged

Spike kissed Applejack back, and wrapped his arms around her, while she kissed him one hand dropped between their bodies and began to fondle and squeeze his sheath, while removing his pants and underwear, rousing his body on a whole different level and making it perfectly clear why Applejack needed.

"Applejack… I-I don’t know if..." 

Spike blushed and shuddered as he felt her hand expertly squeezing and rubbing him towards arousal before his dick could even begin to stir of its own accord. He saw Applejack's eyes flash with desire, and grinned as she moaned under her breath and began to stroke him towards full erection a little faster than before.

"... I-I’m not sure… that I..." Spike said

“Hush now… let me take charge,” Applejack said as she removed Spike’s shirt

Once again they kissed deeply, and rather forcefully too as far as Applejack's engagement was concerned. She left Spike breathless as they separated once more, and though she had been the one inciting everything, she immediately grabbed his arm and threw him onto the bed, pinning Spike’s bare body as she pulled her own nude body away from his, sitting up with her pussy now pinning his hard, throbbing cock beneath it against the lower portion of his belly. 

She stared down at him, her bare chest heaving up and down with visible exertion, and moaned happily as he reached out and began to caress her butt.

"Spike?" 

His eyes widened, and he shuddered at the almost liquid lust that seemed to drool from every letter as she spoke his name. 

"Yeah, Applejack?" 

She licked her lips, squirmed against his manhood, and moaned a ragged, frantic moan. 

"Promise that you won't hate me for this… or regret that this ever happened?" 

Spike's eyes widened slightly more, but he didn't hesitate. Not because he wanted what it felt like Applejack was about to do to him, but because he trusted Applejack completely, and wanted her to know that she could rely on him with similar certainty. 

"I promise… but… I just wished the situation was better… our that your partner was a better one," Spike said

Squirming and moaning in delight, Applejack nodded, but pressed for yet more confirmation as though hearing it once wasn't enough somehow.

"You think that I will... ooh God.You think I’m doing this wishing to regret it. Sugarcube, I’m doing this because it is you… even though our relationship is still fresh… I can feel a deep connection with you, and it’s something that I can’t hide or brush away… I know that you’re my destined partner… and that is enough for me,” Applejack said as she kissed Spike over and over again

Spike’s heart was raising, he was nervous, excited and worried at the same time, so many questions raised through his head, his inner demons doing their best to put him down, but everytime, Applejack kissed him, he felt them all go quiet.

"If this is what you want, AJ, I promise I'll do everything I can to give it to you."

A grunt of relief and excitement escaped the woman, and Spike's eyes bulged as for a moment she lifted herself up and off his cock, though just long enough to grasp it by the slightly swollen, base, point it directly upward, and then drive her pussy down onto it without another second's delay. 

"YES!" she moaned, as she felt his dick enter her pussy, taking her virginity

Spike's whole body tensed up as mere seconds after Applejack slammed herself down to the hilt on his cock, she let loose a truly almighty moan as she began to bounce violently, roughly up and down on his cock without the slightest restraint or consideration for how unprepared he was. 

"Yesyesyesyesssssssaaahhhhhhhfuck!! YES!" she moaned

She couldn't have been riding him for more than thirty seconds; her breasts bouncing wild and free, her eyes equally wild and frenzied, mouth wide open and drooling as she moaned and shrieked at the top of her lungs, when the first orgasm crashed through her. 

Spike felt her pussy convulsing around his cock, and the hot flood of her juices soaking his balls and crotch. She didn't stop as she came though. She didn't slow or relent as she milked him and squirted all over him. If anything, she began to ride him harder towards her second orgasm. 

Then a third.

And a forth.

Spike's eyes bulged as before he had even risen to his first peak, a miracle considering how fast he was getting there due to Applejack's incredible multi-orgasmic wailing and the look of pure unfettered ecstasy upon her face, his lover had worked her way to five... six... seven distinct peaks of her very own. She was on fire, her pussy a nuclear reaction in absolute meltdown, and still she seemed insatiable. 

There was no scent of heat in the air, just sweat and sex of a particularly intense but otherwise rather lovely variety.

He wanted to gasp, to moan, to hold her and make her feel even better, to thank her for having given him the opportunity to experience this with her. But, no matter what, everytime he wanted to say something, to act, his body stopped itself, his brain playing back all the horrible things he had done before that point, or showing him who and what he was before that fateful day, when he became this… demi-God… this monster.

Thus all he could do was lie there and watch Applejack use his body for her pleasure right up to the point where his balls started to bulge a little, that she could feel them slapping her butt after each thrust down onto its throbbing girth. 

"Do it!!" 

Applejack shrieked to him, though her head remained upturned and her body moving upon him without any sign beyond her cry that she wanted him to in any way influence things.

"Yes, I... yessssssss! Cum in me. Impregnate me!!"

She rode him harder and harder right up until she physically couldn't bounce astride his cock any longer, an almighty, caterwauling shriek escaping her when she hilted Spike's shaft within herself once more, only to find she couldn't pull free again as she attempted to lift herself back off him. 

"OhhhhSpikeyesssssssss!!" 

Arching her back, angling herself so that his root was throbbing and grinding against her clit constantly, Applejack screamed as she began to cum. And cum. And cum.

Spike moaned. His eyes bulged, and he flooded her pussy with his hot seed as she milked his dick relentlessly. Honestly though, his orgasm was but an afterthought. It was incredible. It was everything that this whole situation had built it to be and more. And yet, in comparison to what Applejack was so obviously feeling as she thrashed and shrieked and squirted her way through what was either another two or three seamless back to back orgasms or a single almighty final climax which lasted well over a minute, Spike was fully aware how little his orgasm mattered. 

This wasn't for him, and that was fine. This was all for Applejack. All for her body to enjoy, for her mind to process, for her heart to get whatever it was that she needed to get out of this experience. 

And when finally she collapsed forward against him, panting, giggling, kissing at his chin and neck in delirious post-orgasmic contentment, he knew that she had. 

“That was lovely, sugarcube… sorry if I went a little cuckoo-for-cocoa puffs during our love making,” Applejack moaned

“It’s alright… I… I wasn’t really knowing what to do,” said Spike

“Anyway… how did it feel?” she asked.

“Lovely… it was more than I ever thought it felt like… and you felt amazing” Spike admitted

“Ah shucks, thanks sugarcube… although I have to admit, if it weren’t for that weird drug… I would’ve been happier with you taking charge,” Applejack admitted

“Yeah, sorry… it was my first time in this situation,” Spike said, not mentioning his inner battle during their love making session.

“It was mine too… I’m happy I gave my purity to you and not that weirdo,” Applejack said

“Heh, yeah… say, Applejack,” Spike said

“Yeah, sugarcube,” she said

“If… if… you know… it happened… I-I’ll take responsibility… for everything,” he said

This touched Applejack’s heart, she already knew of Spike’s great character, but the way he was ready for the next step, despite the circumstances, it reassured her that she had made the right decision of falling in love with him.

“Thanks Sugarcube, but don’t worry… I wasn’t on my period… or ovulating, so, it is a safe day… next time whoever…” Applejack said as she kissed him.






THE NEXT DAY

In the aftermath of the harrowing battle at Jericho Dungeon, the sun rose on a Canterlot that had been shaken to its core, yet stood united and resilient. The city square was filled with citizens, soldiers, and heroes of the day, all gathered to hear Princess Celestia address the nation. The air was heavy with the gravity of recent events, but also alight with the warmth of hope and unity.

Princess Celestia, regal and composed, stepped forward to the podium, her presence commanding the attention of all present. The murmurs of the crowd hushed as she began to speak, her voice carrying both the weight of authority and the gentleness of compassion.

"My dear subjects," Celestia began, her eyes sweeping over the gathered crowd, "today, we stand together, not just as citizens of Canterlot, but as a testament to the strength and courage that defines us. Last night, our city faced a grave threat, one that sought to tear at the very fabric of our society."

She paused, allowing her words to resonate, her gaze finding those who had fought bravely in the battle. "Thanks to the bravery and swift action of many, including our valiant soldiers, the Royal Guard, and courageous civilians like Spike and his friends, we were able to thwart this menace and ensure the safety of our citizens."

A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd, a collective acknowledgment of the heroes among them. Celestia's expression softened, a mix of pride and sorrow in her eyes. "It is my sincerest wish that such incidents never occur again. The cost of conflict is high, paid in the currency of pain, fear, and loss. Yet, in facing these dark times together, we have proven that our resolve is stronger than the challenges before us."

She took a moment, her gaze reflecting the solemnity of her next words. "Let us take this time to remember those who risked everything to protect us, and let their bravery inspire us to work towards a future where peace and harmony prevail. Let us also extend our deepest gratitude to those who, in the face of danger, showed us what it truly means to be a part of this great kingdom."

Celestia's voice grew more resolute, her final words a call to action for all her subjects. "As your princess, I vow to do everything within my power to safeguard our land and its people… especially when this safety is threatened by such a heinous crime as Sex trafficking. But it is together, united in purpose and spirit, that we will build a stronger, more resilient Canterlot."

The crowd erupted into applause, a wave of cheers and shouts filling the square, echoing Celestia's message of unity and resilience. As the applause faded, Celestia stepped down from the podium, her heart heavy with the responsibility of her role, yet buoyed by the indomitable spirit of her people.

The battle at Marvanworth would be remembered not just for the conflict itself, but for the way it brought the citizens of Canterlot together, a reminder of the strength found in unity and the enduring power of hope.
> G.U.C.C. Ch. 13 "Wyrm Sovereign"
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A month had flown by since the harrowing events at Jericho, and life had settled into a new, albeit unexpected, rhythm for Spike. Today found him sitting at the long dining table of Sweet Apple Acres, surrounded by the boisterous Apple family, discussing plans that would've seemed unfathomable to him just weeks before—the upcoming wedding of him and Applejack.

Granny Smith, ever the matriarch, was leading the charge, her enthusiasm undimmed by age. "Now, we gotta make sure we got enough apples for the apple fritters, apple pies, apple turnovers... This ain't just any wedding, it's an Apple family wedding!"

Spike, who had been sipping on a glass of sweet apple cider, nearly choked at the exhaustive list of apple-themed menu items. "Um, do you think maybe we could have a few non-apple items? Just for variety?"

The table went silent, all eyes turning to him as if he'd suggested serving dragon meat. After a tense moment, Big Mac broke the silence with his deep, rumbling voice, "Eeeyup, but that'd be mighty untraditional."

Apple Bloom, ever the voice of mischief, piped up from her seat. "We could have apple-less apple pie! Just the crust!"

The table erupted into laughter, even as Applejack gave her sister a playful nudge. "Now, don't you go teasing Spike like that. Though, I reckon a little variety wouldn't hurt. How 'bout some peach cobbler?"

Granny Smith appeared to consider this for a moment before nodding grudgingly. "Alright, but only 'cause it's y'all's special day. And only one non-apple dish!"

Bright Mac leaned over to Spike, a twinkle in his eye. "You think this is something? Wait 'til we start talking about decorations. We once had a debate over the right shade of red for barn paint that lasted three days."

Pear Butter, sitting beside her husband, nodded in agreement. "And don't get me started on the music. If it were up to Granny, we'd have nothing but banjo solos all night."

Spike, absorbing the loving banter and chaos of Apple family wedding planning, couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading through him. This was a far cry from the solitary life he had known, filled with adventures and dangers. Here, amid debates over apple dishes and banjo solos, he found a sense of belonging he hadn't realized he'd been searching for.

As the conversation turned to whether the wedding arch should be adorned with Golden Delicious or Granny Smith apples, Spike caught Applejack's eye. She smiled at him, a smile that spoke of shared futures and mutual understanding.

In that moment, Spike knew no matter how comical, chaotic, or apple-filled his future with the Apple family might be, there was nowhere else he'd rather be. The road to this point had been anything but straightforward, but looking around the table at his soon-to-be family, Spike felt a profound sense of gratitude and contentment. The wedding of Spike and Applejack wasn't just a union of two hearts; it was a celebration of community, resilience, and the unexpected paths that lead to home.

Stepping out into the cool evening air, Spike sought a moment of solitude, a brief escape from the whirlwind of wedding planning that had overtaken Sweet Apple Acres. The sky was painted with the soft hues of twilight, casting a peaceful glow over the farm. However, the tranquility of the scene did little to quiet the turmoil within him. Lost in thought, he gazed into the distance, his mind replaying the events of Jericho over and over, each memory a sharp reminder of the cost of victory.

Applejack, noticing Spike's absence, slipped out of the house to find him. Concern etched her features as she approached, spotting his distant stare. "Hey there, sugarcube," she began gently, her voice a soothing balm in the quiet of the evening. "You alright? You've been out here a while, just starin' off into space. You're not havin' second thoughts, are ya?"

Spike turned to her, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "No, Applejack, it's not that. I promise," he reassured her, seeing the worry in her eyes. "I was just thinking about Jericho, about everything that happened. I know we've got a lot to be happy about, but sometimes, it just... it all comes back, you know?"

Applejack nodded, moving closer to wrap an arm around him, offering a silent support. "I understand, Spike. Those things ain't easy to forget. But you're not alone in this, remember that."

After a moment, she hesitated before asking, "Have you been seeing that psychologist? The one Princess Celestia recommended? You said you would."

Spike sighed, nodding. "Yeah, I have. It's been... helpful, in a way. Talking about it, trying to make sense of it all. It's a process, they said. It takes time."

Applejack squeezed his hand, her gaze full of compassion and understanding. "I'm proud of you for that. It takes a lot of strength to face those demons. And I want you to know, no matter what, I'm here for you. We all are. This family, your family now, we stick together through thick and thin."

The sincerity in her voice, the warmth of her embrace, offered a comfort Spike hadn't known he needed. In the face of the shadows that lingered from his past, it was the promise of a future with Applejack and her family that shone the brightest. A future where he could find healing, where the burdens of yesterday would be lifted by the love and support of those who stood by him.

As the first stars began to twinkle in the evening sky, Spike and Applejack stood together in silent solidarity, their hearts united by an unspoken vow to navigate whatever challenges lay ahead, together. The road to recovery would be long and winding, but with Applejack by his side, Spike felt a renewed sense of hope.






THE NEXT DAY

The following day found Spike in the familiar, yet still somehow foreign, surroundings of Dr. Castaneda's office. Seated across from the psychologist, he found himself once again retreating into the silence that had become his refuge. The weight of his thoughts anchored him to the spot, his gaze fixed on an unseen point in the void that lay before him, lost in the labyrinth of his mind.

Dr. Castaneda observed Spike with a mix of professional concern and genuine empathy. The progress they had made was real, yet fragile, and she sensed a pivotal moment had arrived in Spike's journey. "Spike," she began, her voice soft yet firm, breaking the silence that had settled between them. "I know we've spent a lot of time discussing Jericho and Nazareth, and while those experiences are crucial to understand, I think it's time we talk about you. Not the hero everyone sees, not the survivor, but Spike. The person who existed before all of this and who continues to exist now."

Spike's eyes flickered, momentarily caught off guard by the shift in focus. The mention of his anomaly, his power, intrigued him. It was a part of him that had always been shrouded in mystery and isolation, rarely understood by others, and even less frequently discussed.

Dr. Castaneda continued, "I've seen your medical file, Spike. Your abilities, your resilience, they're beyond extraordinary. But with great power comes a unique set of challenges, doesn't it? I want to understand, from your perspective, what it's like living with this... anomaly. How has it shaped you, influenced your decisions, your relationships?"

For a moment, Spike hesitated, wrestling with the vulnerability that opening up required. Yet, something in Dr. Castaneda's approach, her genuine desire to understand him beyond the surface, broke through the walls he had built. Slowly, he began to speak, his words initially halting but gaining momentum as he delved deeper into his story.

He talked about his early realization of being different, the isolation that followed, and the double-edged sword his powers represented. Spike recounted the moments of awe and fear his abilities had inspired in others, and how those reactions had sculpted his sense of self and his place in the world. He spoke of his struggles with identity, with finding a purpose that transcended the labels others had placed on him.

Dr. Castaneda listened intently, her notes momentarily forgotten as she absorbed every word. Spike's story was one of extraordinary circumstances, but at its core, it was a profoundly human tale of searching for belonging, meaning, and acceptance.

As the session drew to a close, something remarkable had shifted in the room. Spike, for the first time in a long while, felt heard, truly understood. And Dr. Castaneda, for her part, had gained a deeper appreciation for the complex, resilient individual seated before her.

"This is just the beginning, Spike," she said, offering him an encouraging smile. "Your journey is uniquely yours, but you don't have to walk it alone. Remember, your strength isn't just in your powers. It's in your ability to face your vulnerabilities and grow from them."

As the session with Dr. Castaneda progressed, a moment of silence fell, a palpable shift in the atmosphere as Spike grappled with a confession that had long been simmering beneath the surface. "I feel... strange," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, charged with an underlying turmoil. "Like I've lost my humanity somehow. I look in the mirror, and I don't see myself—I see a monster. And I'm terrified, not of what might happen to me, but of what I might do to those around me."

Dr. Castaneda regarded him with a calm, understanding gaze, recognizing the depth of pain and fear his words conveyed. "Spike, what you're feeling isn't uncommon among those who've experienced what you have. The fear of losing control, of harming the people we care about—it's a burden, but it's also a sign of your humanity, not its absence. You care, deeply, and that compassion is what makes you human, not a monster."

She leaned forward slightly, her demeanor both professional and profoundly empathetic. "There are ways to navigate these feelings, to reclaim the parts of yourself that feel lost. One strategy is to channel these emotions into something constructive, something that allows you to express what's inside in a safe, controlled manner."

Pausing for a moment, Dr. Castaneda offered a gentle suggestion. "Have you ever considered writing music or poems? Creative expression can be a powerful outlet for the emotions you're wrestling with. It's a way to explore and understand your feelings, to give them a shape and a voice that's wholly yours. It doesn't have to be for anyone else's ears or eyes but your own."

Spike looked up, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. The idea of using music or poetry as a means to cope with his internal strife was something he hadn't considered. He remembered the times music had soothed him, the way certain lyrics resonated with his own experiences. The prospect of creating something that could both express and alleviate his tumultuous emotions was unexpectedly appealing.

"I... I've never really tried," Spike admitted, the seed of an idea beginning to take root. "But I think I'd like to. It might help, having a way to let all of this out without... without fear."

Dr. Castaneda smiled encouragingly. "I think it's a wonderful idea. You don't need to be a professional musician or poet. It's about the process, not the product. Give yourself permission to explore, to experiment. You might be surprised by what you discover—not just about your abilities, but about yourself."

As the session drew to a close, Spike felt a sense of purpose he hadn't felt in a long time. The suggestion to channel his emotions into music or poetry offered a glimmer of hope, a potential path towards healing. He left Dr. Castaneda's office with a newfound determination to try, to create something that could capture the complexity of his feelings, to find a way to communicate the incommunicable.

The conversation with Dr. Castaneda had opened a door for Spike, a way to confront his fears and uncertainties not with resignation, but with creativity and resilience. It was a small step, perhaps, but one that pointed towards a future where he could see himself not as a monster, but as a human, flawed but fighting, seeking and sometimes finding, the light amidst the darkness.







LATER THAT NIGHT

The penthouse was quiet, the only sound the gentle hum of the city below, a symphony of distant lives and stories unfolding beneath the veil of night. Spike stood by the window, his gaze lost in the sea of lights that stretched out before him, each one a beacon in the darkness. Dr. Castaneda's words echoed in his mind, a mantra that sparked a flicker of hope in the shadows of his thoughts.

His eyes drifted to the built-in studio, its presence in his home a testament to a newfound curiosity and perhaps, a hidden desire for expression that he hadn't fully acknowledged until now. The studio was equipped with an array of instruments, each one mastered with the help of his console, yet untouched by genuine passion—until tonight.

With a deep breath, Spike walked over to the piano. He sat before it, a sense of reverence washing over him as his fingers hovered above the keys. The instrument was both familiar and alien, its potential for creation and expression vast and unexplored. For a moment, he simply sat there, allowing the silence to envelop him, to fill the space between possibility and action.

Then, almost hesitantly, he pressed down on a key. The note that rang out was clear, resonant, a call that awakened something within him. More notes followed, tentative at first, then with growing confidence. Melodies began to weave together, forming the outline of a song that had lived within him, unvoiced and unheard.

Lyrics surfaced in his mind, words born from the depths of his experiences, his fears, his hopes. The studio, once just a part of his penthouse, transformed into a sanctuary of sorts, a place where the tumult of his inner world could find expression.

Grateful for Applejack's absence—knowing the noise would have kept her awake—Spike moved to the drum kit. The transition from the piano to the drums felt like stepping from one world into another, each instrument offering a different texture, a different voice to the emotions he sought to express.

As he struck the first beat, a smile broke across his face, pure and unguarded. It was the joy of creation, of connection to something profound and deeply personal. For hours, he played, moving from one instrument to another, each note, each beat, a step on the path towards healing.

The music he created that night was raw, unpolished, but undeniably real. It was a testament to his journey, a reflection of the pain and beauty of being alive. And in the solitude of the night, with the city as his witness, Spike found something he hadn't even realized he'd been searching for: a sense of peace, a moment of unadulterated joy.

The dawn found him exhausted but fulfilled, surrounded by the evidence of his nocturnal creativity. As the first light of the day crept into the studio, illuminating the instruments and the scattered sheets of lyrics, Spike knew that this was only the beginning. The path ahead was still uncertain, fraught with challenges and memories that would always be a part of him. But now, he had a new tool, a new way to face the darkness and find his way back to the light.

In the quiet aftermath of creation, Spike understood that while the music might not change the past, it could shape the future. It was a bridge between the man he had been and the man he was becoming—a reminder that even in the deepest despair, there could be beauty, hope, and redemption.






A FEW DAYS LATER

A few days after Spike's night of musical revelation, the living room was filled with the low buzz of the morning show, the TV screen flickering with images of celebrities and upcoming movies. It was a typical day, with the anchors moving smoothly from one hot topic to another, discussing box office predictions and celebrity gossip with practiced ease.

Then, the tone shifted, and one of the anchors, a woman with a keen eye for trends, leaned forward slightly, her expression one of genuine excitement. "In music news, there's a new band that's been making waves across the internet and music industry alike. They're called 'Wyrm Sovereign,' and their debut song 'Thread the Needle' has become an overnight sensation, trending on social media and climbing music charts at an unprecedented rate."

Her co-anchor, intrigued, picked up the thread. "That's right, 'Wyrm Sovereign.' There's been a lot of speculation about the band's members, as they've chosen to remain anonymous, but whoever they are, they've certainly captured the public's imagination. 'Thread the Needle' has been praised for its unique sound and deeply resonant lyrics. It's not just a song; it's being called an experience."

The screen then split, showing clips from the music video of "Thread the Needle," a mesmerizing blend of visuals that perfectly complemented the haunting melody and poignant lyrics. The song, with its complex layers and emotional depth, spoke to listeners on a personal level, resonating with their own experiences and struggles.



The anchors continued to discuss the phenomenon, mentioning how music critics and fans alike were lauding the song for its authenticity and the raw emotion it conveyed. "It's rare to see a debut song take off like this," the female anchor noted. "Especially one that touches on themes of struggle, redemption, and the human condition with such clarity and depth. 'Wyrm Sovereign' may be new to the scene, but they're already making a significant impact."

As the segment wrapped up, they teased the possibility of an exclusive interview with the mysterious band in the coming weeks, urging viewers to stay tuned for updates. The screen faded back to the anchors, who shared a look of anticipation, clearly as caught up in the mystery and excitement surrounding 'Wyrm Sovereign' as their audience.

Unseen, in the comfort of his living room, Spike watched the segment with a mixture of disbelief and pride. To see "Thread the Needle"—a song born from his most personal moments, his fears, and hopes—embraced by so many was overwhelming. The decision to release his music under the name 'Wyrm Sovereign' had been impulsive, a way to put his feelings into the world while keeping his privacy. Yet, here he was, witnessing the ripple effect of his creation, touching lives in ways he had never imagined.

Motivated by the unexpected and overwhelming response to "Thread the Needle," Spike found himself once again drawn to the sanctuary of his studio. The world outside, with its buzz and speculation about Wyrm Sovereign, faded into the background as he immersed himself in the creation of new music. The two songs he had been working on, each distinct in its melody and message, were nearing completion, fueled by the outpouring of support and curiosity his music had ignited.

For two weeks, Spike put the finishing touches on the tracks, feeling a blend of anticipation and vulnerability, only leaving his apartment if it was an emergency, or when Applejack called him for some important reason, or just to check up on him. Deciding to ride the wave of momentum, he compiled the songs into an EP titled "One," a nod to the beginning of this unforeseen journey and the unity he hoped his music would inspire. In the quiet hours of the early morning, he uploaded "One" to the internet, his heart thrumming with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

The next day, the reaction was immediate and even more fervent than before. The morning show anchors, who had been among the first to spotlight Wyrm Sovereign, were effusive in their praise of "One." The female anchor's enthusiasm was palpable as she spoke, "Wyrm Sovereign has done it again, releasing an EP that's nothing short of a masterpiece. 'One's songs “Field of Elation” and “When the Bough Breaks” delve even deeper into the human experience, each track a testament to the band's incredible talent and insight."





Her co-anchor nodded in agreement, adding, "And it's not just us singing their praises. Celebrities, critics, and fans worldwide have been quick to express their admiration for Wyrm Sovereign's latest work. It seems they've struck a chord that resonates on a global scale."

The segment featured clips from the EP, showcasing the diverse range and emotional depth of the music. Social media reactions from celebrities and influencers were highlighted, with many expressing how the songs had moved them or offered solace and inspiration.

As Spike watched, a sense of surreal satisfaction washed over him. The decision to share his music, to bare his soul through melody and lyric, had connected him to countless others in ways he had never anticipated. Wyrm Sovereign, a project born from his darkest moments and deepest reflections, had become a beacon of hope and understanding for people from all walks of life.






Lying in the comfortable embrace of his bed, the tranquility of the morning was abruptly shattered by a series of urgent knocks that rapidly escalated into a forceful pounding on his front door. Startled, Spike barely had time to react before the door was unceremoniously thrust open, revealing Applejack, her face etched with concern that swiftly dissolved into visible anger upon laying eyes on him.

"Spike! Do you have any idea how worried I've been? You haven't answered a single one of my calls or messages for an entire week!" Applejack's voice filled the room, a mixture of relief and frustration, as Spike stared at her, taken aback by the sudden intrusion and the intensity of her emotions.

Rushing to his phone, Spike's eyes widened at the sight of the numerous missed calls and unread messages, a stark reminder of his recent disconnect from everything but his music. He turned to face Applejack, ready to explain, to apologize for the unintended silence that had caused her so much distress.

But Applejack, always perceptive, had already put the pieces together. The look in her eyes shifted from anger to a complex blend of emotions as she confronted him. "You've been busy with your music, haven't you? 'Wyrm Sovereign'... I saw the news, Spike. That's you, isn't it?" Her voice softened, the anger receding as understanding and curiosity took its place.

Spike exhaled, a mix of relief and apprehension filling him as he nodded. "Yes, it's me. I'm sorry, Applejack, I didn't mean to worry you. I just... got caught up in it all. The music, the creation, it became everything for a while. I needed it, but I should've reached out, let you know I was okay."

Applejack took a step closer, her initial anger now replaced by a sense of awe and pride. "Spike, I can't believe it... Your music, it's been everywhere. Everyone's talking about it. It's incredible, really. But you scared me, sugarcube. I thought something had happened to you."

The room was filled with an emotional charge, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Spike reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm sorry, truly. I never meant to make you worry. And thank you, for being here, for caring so much. I guess I lost myself in the music for a bit there, but I promise, I'll be better at keeping in touch. You mean the world to me, Applejack."

Applejack smiled, the warmth in her eyes melting away any remaining tension. "Well, I reckon I can forgive you, just this once. But you owe me a private concert, Mr. 'Wyrm Sovereign.' I want to hear all about this new adventure of yours."







THE NEXT MORNING

The morning sun cast a warm glow over the city as Spike and Applejack found themselves standing somewhat awkwardly in front of the hospital's OBGYN clinic. Spike, still trying to piece together the events that had led them here, looked at Applejack with an expression that was a mix of confusion and concern. Before he could voice his flurry of questions, Applejack turned to him, a slight smile playing on her lips as she anticipated his confusion.

"You're probably wondering what we're doing here, huh?" she began, her voice tinged with amusement. "Well, this morning, I got a call from Granny Smith asking where I was. When I told her I stayed over at your place, she got all giddy and, well, jumped to some conclusions."

Spike's eyebrows shot up, even more bewildered by her explanation. "Conclusions? What kind of conclusions?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Applejack chuckled, shaking her head at the memory. "Granny Smith just started laughing and going on about how she knew we'd end up together. But then, she got this idea in her head that, well, that I might be expecting." She rolled her eyes, clearly finding the whole situation more amusing than anything else.

Spike's eyes widened in realization. "Expecting? But why would she—"

Before he could finish, Applejack held up her hand. "I know, I know. It's ridiculous. I told her there's no way that's happening. I'm on birth control, for Pete's sake. But you know Granny Smith; once she gets an idea in her head, there's no talking her out of it. She insisted I come to the OBGYN clinic just to be sure, to 'humor an old lady's intuition,' as she put it."

The conversation they had with Granny Smith over the phone earlier that morning replayed in Applejack's mind. Despite her attempts to reassure her grandmother that her concerns were unfounded, Granny Smith's laughter and teasing were relentless. "Just you wait, my dear. You never know with these things. Best to check and give this old heart some peace," Granny Smith had said, her voice full of mirth and a hint of mischief.

Spike, finally understanding the situation, let out a small laugh, the tension easing from his shoulders. "Well, if it's to give Granny Smith some peace of mind, then I guess it's worth it," he said, offering Applejack a supportive smile. "But, just for the record, I'm with you on this. It's definitely just humoring her intuition."

Applejack nodded, her smile widening. "Exactly. So, let's get this over with and then we can laugh about it later with Granny Smith. Who knows, maybe she'll make us one of her famous apple pies as an apology for dragging us out here so early."

The clinic's waiting room was bustling with the soft murmurs of conversation and the occasional laughter, a community of expectant mothers sharing in the universal journey of pregnancy. Amidst this, Applejack found herself both amused and slightly exasperated at Spike's ability to find peace in the chaos, slumped in his seat, fast asleep.

His serene expression, a stark contrast to the lively environment around them, drew the attention of several others in the waiting area. Whispered comments and suppressed giggles filled the air, causing Applejack to cast protective glances at Spike. It wasn't long before a tinge of jealousy crept in, seeing others admire him so openly.

Determined to reclaim her peace (and perhaps a bit of attention from Spike), Applejack leaned over and gently shook him awake. "Hey, sleepyhead," she whispered, her voice laced with a mix of affection and mischief. "Mind running out to grab me something to snack on? I'm starvin' over here."

Spike, groggily coming to, blinked a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes. "Sure thing, AJ," he responded, a soft smile gracing his lips as he stood and stretched, his movements drawing another round of covert glances from the room. "Any preferences?" he asked, ready to fulfill her request.

"Just somethin' light. Maybe an apple or two?" Applejack suggested, the corners of her mouth turning up in a slight smile at the mention of her favorite fruit.

"Got it. I'll be back before you know it," Spike assured her, his tone warm and reassuring. He made his way out of the clinic, leaving Applejack to navigate the mixed feelings of amusement at the situation and a lingering sense of possessiveness.

As Spike disappeared from view, Applejack couldn't help but let out a small sigh, a mix of contentment and a lingering sense of disbelief at the morning's events. The thought of being at an OBGYN clinic under Granny Smith's misunderstanding was both absurd and endearing. "Only in our family," she mumbled to herself, her gaze drifting back to the line ahead of her.

Spike walked around the emergency area of the hospital, looking for a bending machine, however, when he finally found it, a sign that read "OUT OF ORDER" made him stop in his tracks. 

Just then a nurse said, "The only working bending machine is on the 5th floor," Spike looked at the map and saw that it was an intensive care unit, he turned to look at the nurse who told him to take the elevator, it wasn't a big deal. 

Spike did as he was told, however, when he got to the 5th floor, and was heading to the bending machine, he felt a chill run down his spine, it wasn't out of fear, but as if he was being called to a particular room. Spike followed the chills, and arrived at a room, he saw the patient's name and his eyes widened "Norman Neuhaus". 

It was a massive shock to Spike, Norman was the only person who was ever nice to Spike in high school.

The shock of seeing Norman Neuhaus' name on the patient's door rendered Spike momentarily speechless. The hospital's fifth floor, with its sterile, quiet corridors, suddenly felt oppressively silent. Norman, the only peer who had shown Spike kindness during the tumultuous years of high school, now lay battling for his life just beyond the door.

The doctor, noticing Spike's distress, softened her approach. "Are you a friend of Norman's?" she inquired, her voice carrying a mix of professional detachment and genuine sympathy.

Spike nodded, still struggling to process the news. "Yes, he... he was good to me when not many people were."

Understanding flashed in the doctor's eyes. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way. His condition is quite advanced. We're doing everything we can, but the cancer has spread too far, too fast."

Spike's mind raced. The helplessness of the situation was overwhelming, yet an idea began to form. With his newfound abilities, perhaps there was something he could do. "Can I see him?" he asked, the determination clear in his voice.

The doctor hesitated for a moment, weighing the protocols against the earnest plea in Spike's eyes. Finally, she nodded. "Yes, but please prepare yourself. He may not be fully conscious."

Spike entered Norman's room with trepidation. The sight of Norman, so frail and diminished by his illness, was a stark contrast to the vibrant individual Spike remembered. Tubes and monitors connected to him painted a grim picture of the battle being waged within his body.

"Norman," Spike whispered, taking a seat by the bedside. There was no response, just the steady beep of the heart monitor.

Spike began to wonder what could have caused this to happen.

Just then, he decided to open his cheat console and looked at Norman’s attributes, and there he finally saw it.

“Norman is a Necromancer… not just any necromancer, but Grand Warlock of the Undead… the rarest of the rarest… but his magical points aren’t high enough to control the dark magic, which is eating away at him slowly… wait a minute, he doesn’t have Cancer, he has “Undead Sickness” usually it is curable, but for his rank and magic power… I doubt there is a hospital in the world that has enough magic plasm to give him…” Spike thought

While Spike was deep in thought, he felt someone grab his hand.

When he looked up he saw Norman looking at him weakly

“Sherman… goodness… you’ve grown… and lost a lot of weight,” Norman said weakly

“Norman… I know it’s a stupid question but, how are you feeling?” Spike asked

“Tired… fed up… weak…” Norman said weakly

“What about your parents?” asked Spike

“They won’t be coming… I wasn’t particularly well liked by them…” Norman said

“Because you are a Necromancer?” Spike said

“How did you… yeah… my mother was a Light Mage, and my father hates Necromancers with a passion… but, I can’t be angry… they still loved me enough to where I was comfortable… I mean, they didn’t kick me out until I turned 20…” Norman said with a weak smile

“If they had, they would’ve gone to jail,” said Spike

“I know… but, seeing them treating my sister and brother better, it shows me that they weren’t bad parents… and they did cry and got worried when I told them I was dying,” Norman said

“But they haven’t visited you,” said Spike

“They did at first, however, I told them to stop coming, it was putting my siblings under a lot of stress…” Norman said

“They didn’t think twice about listening to you,” said Spike

“Yeah… but anyway, why should they come here and see someone that is on his last toe… I fought for 2 years against this… drank so many potions and healing waters… it slowed down the cancer… but the pain… it got worse by the day…” Norman said

“That is because it wasn’t cancer, its “Undead Sickness” a normal thing for many Necromancers,” Spike said

“Yeah… that’s what kills us all,” Norman said

“He’s right, necromancers are rare by themselves, Norman is even rarer with Grand Warlock’s being born 1 in 100,000,000… the only way to fix the sickness is through Magic plasma injections… However, he has to do it everyday for the rest of his life, and those aren’t cheap… the other way is to earn enough magic points to obtain the “Undead Monarch” status… which will make him… a Demi-God… and only one person was ever able to achieve this… the Demon Lord Gabriel de Arrizabal… over 1500 years ago,” Spike thought

“It’s a lot to take in… I know… but hopefully, in my next life, I will be blessed with good fortune,” Norman said

“So, you don’t have any regrets?” asked Spike

“I have millions… but… I have no time… I’ll just hope… in my next life… I can prosper…” Norman said as he fell asleep again.

Spike looked at him, and then at the cheat console, he headed over to the attribute section and saw that the skill that Norman needed was available, however, when he clicked on it, a message popped up.

“You do not possess, enough magic points to unlock this skill for Norman Neuhaus,” it said 

Spike then saw that at the bottom of the screen there was the option, “get more points”

He quickly clicked it and a message appeared “To earn enough points, you must trade 5 years of your life,”

Spike was about to click the accept option, when a message from God appeared “Are you sure?” he asked

“He was the only person to ever have my back when no one else did, besides, I wasn’t planning on living that long anyway, what are five years in this case,” Spike said as he clicked accept.

Immediately, a blinding light surrounded both of them, and after a few seconds, Spike felt a terrible pain in his chest.

After a few seconds, the light disappeared, and Spike recovered, he quickly used his cheat console and saw that Norman was completely healed and possessed the title of “Undead Monarch”.

Spike smiled happily, before he felt his stomach turn, he quickly got up and headed over to the bathroom as he threw up blood, followed by some bloody coughs, but they quickly went away.

Spike sat down to catch his breath, then he wiped away the blood around his mouth and washed his hands, flushing the toilet as he left the bathroom, giving Norman’s sleeping form one last look and leaving to get Applejack’s snacks.






When Spike finally got back to the OBGYN clinic, Applejack was coming out of the office, her face a bit red, which made Spike worry.

He rushed over to her, but to his surprise, she quickly went over and grabbed one of the apple crisps that Spike had bought, and gobbled it down in seconds;

Spike was take aback, however, Applejack the told him “Just like I told ya, I ain’t pregnant… whoever, the doctor said that… if I stopped using birth control… my chances of getting pregnant were… 100%”. 

Spike's concern melted into amusement as he watched Applejack demolish the apple crisp he had managed to scavenge for her. Her voracious appetite, juxtaposed with her blush-tinged cheeks, painted a picture far removed from the tension and unease that had settled between them at the entrance of the OBGYN clinic.

"Ah, I see," Spike managed, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and intrigue at Applejack's revelation about her fertility. The idea of starting a family, of taking such a significant step forward in their relationship, sent a thrill of excitement—and a dash of nervousness—through him. "Start trying for real, huh?" he echoed, his voice a notch higher than usual, betraying his flustered state.

Applejack, noticing Spike's reddened cheeks, couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah, I reckon it'd be a good idea, wouldn't it? Granny Smith's already on board with the idea, if you hadn't guessed." Her playful tone and the glint in her eye softened the weight of the conversation, making it feel more like an adventurous proposal than a daunting life decision.

Spike took a deep breath, his initial shock giving way to a more thoughtful consideration. "Well, if we're both on the same page... I guess it's something we can seriously talk about. But, uh, let's make sure we're ready for everything that comes with it, yeah?" His voice steadied as he spoke, reflecting his commitment to their future together.

The mention of Applejack's stomach grumbling at the clinic brought another laugh to Spike's lips. "Sounds like someone was more than a little peckish," he teased, offering her another apple crisp from the stash he had managed to buy.

Applejack accepted the treat with a sheepish grin. "You know me, always hungry after a bit of stress. But hey, at least we got a clear bill of health, and... well, a green light for future endeavors," she said, her tone playful yet sincere.

Their conversation meandered from lighthearted teasing to more serious discussions about their future, about what it meant to start a family, and how they would navigate the challenges and joys that would come with it. As they walked away from the clinic, their steps in sync, there was a sense of unity and purpose between them.

Walking through the mall, Spike found himself being enthusiastically guided into a baby store by Applejack, whose excitement was palpable. The air was filled with the gentle scents of new cotton and the colorful sights of baby apparel and toys. Each aisle they ventured down seemed to spark endless possibilities and dreams for their future family.

Applejack picked up a tiny pair of cowboy boots, holding them up with a grin. "Aren't these just the cutest? Our little one's gonna be the best-dressed baby in Equestria," she declared, her eyes shining with joy and anticipation.

Spike couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm, although the reality of their conversation outside the clinic was slowly starting to sink in. "Yeah, they're adorable," he agreed, taking the boots and examining them. "I can already picture it."

As they moved from clothes to toys, Spike found himself drawn to a set of plush dragons. He picked one up, its scales soft under his fingers. "What about this? Think our kid would like dragons?" he asked, half-teasing, half-serious.

Applejack laughed, nudging him playfully. "Only if they take after their dad," she retorted. They continued to meander through the store, each item sparking a new conversation about their hopes and fears for parenthood.

It was a surreal experience for Spike. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined discussing baby clothes and toys as potential future parents. Yet, here he was, caught up in the excitement and the overwhelming sense of what their future could hold.

Walking through the mall, Spike found himself being enthusiastically guided into a baby store by Applejack, whose excitement was palpable. The air was filled with the gentle scents of new cotton and the colorful sights of baby apparel and toys. Each aisle they ventured down seemed to spark endless possibilities and dreams for their future family.

Applejack picked up a tiny pair of cowboy boots, holding them up with a grin. "Aren't these just the cutest? Our little one's gonna be the best-dressed baby in Equestria," she declared, her eyes shining with joy and anticipation.

Spike couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm, although the reality of their conversation outside the clinic was slowly starting to sink in. "Yeah, they're adorable," he agreed, taking the boots and examining them. "I can already picture it."

As they moved from clothes to toys, Spike found himself drawn to a set of plush dragons. He picked one up, its scales soft under his fingers. "What about this? Think our kid would like dragons?" he asked, half-teasing, half-serious.

Applejack laughed, nudging him playfully. "Only if they take after their dad," she retorted. They continued to meander through the store, each item sparking a new conversation about their hopes and fears for parenthood.

It was a surreal experience for Spike. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined discussing baby clothes and toys as potential future parents. Yet, here he was, caught up in the excitement and the overwhelming sense of what their future could hold.

Their banter was abruptly cut short when Fluttershy appeared before them outside the store, breathless from running. "Applejack, Rarity's in trouble," she gasped out, her concern evident.

The mood shifted instantly, the weight of reality crashing back down on them. Spike and Applejack exchanged worried glances, their thoughts immediately turning to their friend's safety.

Upon spotting Spike and Applejack emerging from the baby store, their hands interlocked, a noticeable change washed over Fluttershy's expression. Initially rushed and flustered with worry over Rarity's situation, her demeanor shifted as her eyes lingered on the couple's clasped hands, then darted to the store behind them, piecing together the scene before her.

"Applejack, what... what does this mean?" Fluttershy asked, her voice carrying a hint of jealousy mingled with confusion. The usual softness was tinged with an unusual edge, a subtle possessiveness that one might miss if not paying close attention. "Are you two... planning for a future together? Like, a family?"

Applejack, taken aback by Fluttershy's sudden change in tone, squeezed Spike's hand reassuringly before addressing her friend. "Well, yes, Fluttershy, we've been talkin' 'bout it some, it is also the next natural step for us, since we’re getting married next month" she responded with a gentle smile, trying to ease the tension. "But that doesn't change nothin' between us friends. What's goin' on with Rarity?"

Fluttershy, momentarily caught in the whirlwind of her feelings, took a deep breath, trying to realign her priorities. "Oh, right, Rarity," she hastily added, pushing her personal feelings aside. "She's gotten herself into a bit of a pickle with a design order, and she went to some cavern to collect some diamonds and crystals for the accessories of the order and… it seems she was kidnapped,”

“WHAT?!” Applejack exclaimed

“Wait, when you said Rarity, please tell me you are not talking about Rachel Belle White!” Spike said 

Fluttershy nodded in agreement.

“The same Rachel Belle that got in so much trouble in school for going into mines to look for diamonds… ALONE!” Spike said 

Fluttershy nodded again

“You, for some reason this doesn’t surprise me,” Spike said

“Surprising or not, we have to go help her!” Applejack said

“I’ll go get my equipment Spike said as he walked over to the open air rotunda in the mall

“Here, we will meet here, at the entrance to the Evergreen forest on the north-east side of the city, close to the mountain range!” Applejack said as she gave Spike a quick kiss.

“Understood," he said as he extended his wings and jumped into the sky, disappearing into the clouds within seconds.

“Come on, let’s go!” Applejack said as she ran out of the mall as fast as she could with Fluttershy in tow.

However, Fluttershy was more interested in Applejack’s and HER Spike’s future, especially after she mentioned that they were getting married.
> G.U.C.C. Ch. 14 Diamonds and Granite
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hours later, under the fading light of the day, Spike found himself at the designated meeting spot, the buzz of activity in the air immediately apparent. Applejack was quick to spot him, “Spike! Over here!” her approach marked by a blend of urgency and relief. After a brief, comforting hug that served as a silent acknowledgment of their shared concerns, she wasted no time in bridging the gap between Spike and the rest of her friends he had yet to meet.

"First off, this is Dashielle Harmon, or as we call her, Rainbow Dash," Applejack began, gesturing towards a woman with a striking, colorful hairstyle that seemed to embody her energetic and bold personality. Her athletic build suggested she was no stranger to physical challenges, a hint of competitive spark in her eyes.

“Whassup!” she said

"Next, we've got Sabrina Suarez, or Sunset Shimmer," Applejack continued, introducing a woman whose fiery red and yellow hair matched the warmth and intensity in her gaze. There was a certain depth to her, a sense of wisdom borne from experience that lingered in her demeanor.

“Sunset’s fine,” she said

"This bundle of energy is Penelope Diane Santiago," she said with a smile, indicating a woman with bouncy pink hair whose bright, infectious grin seemed to light up the surrounding chaos.

“But you can call me Pinkie Pie, nice to finally make your acquaintance,” She said

"And lastly, Stella Glimmer, or Starlight Glimmer," Applejack concluded, nodding towards a woman with a unique, dual-toned hair, exuding calm and a thoughtful presence, her eyes reflecting a sharp intellect and a considerate nature.

“Charmed,” she said

“And of course you know Taylor,” Applejack said motioning at Twilight Sparkle who smiled back at Spike

“And Florence,” she said as she pointed at Fluttershy

After the quick introductions, Spike's attention was inevitably drawn back to the disorderly scene around them. The place was a hive of activity, with each member of the group engaged in some task or discussion, their focus directed towards what appeared to be a sprawling project laid out before them.

"What's all this?" Spike asked, his curiosity piqued as he surveyed the organized chaos, trying to make sense of the situation.

Applejack sighed, her expression a mix of determination and a hint of exhaustion. "We're in the middle of planning a massive rescue mission. The Diamond Dogs are not simple criminals, they are well organized and trained,” Applejack said

“At this point, we need as many people as we can, if we want to rescue Rarity and stop the Diamond Dogs at the same time,” Twilight said

“Heh, I just need 5 minutes in there and they’ll be stopped for good,” said Rainbow Dash confidently

“Or, for you to be killed,” said Sunset Shimmer which earned a laugh from everyone.

"It's a bit of a monster to organize, but we're getting there, right, girls?" Applejack's voice was upbeat, but it was clear the task was daunting.

Rainbow Dash, not one to shy away from a challenge, chimed in with characteristic confidence. "Yeah, we've got this. Plus, with Spike here now, we've got an extra set of hands. You do plan on helping, right?" Her smile was teasing, but there was an undercurrent of hope that Spike would join their efforts.

Spike, caught slightly off-guard by the direct appeal, nodded. "Of course. Just tell me where you need me," he responded, ready to lend his support to Applejack and her friends in their ambitious endeavor.

“I recommend you go and find Flash, he is the one in charge of the mission,” Twilight said 

“Will do,” Spike said as he walks away.

As Spike made his way through the bustling preparation area, he couldn't help but let his mind wander back to his previous encounters with the guilds whose members now readied themselves around him. The Royal Adventurers Guild and the ThunderWall Guild were both prestigious in their own right, each with stringent entry requirements that had once barred him from joining. He remembered vividly how he had been turned away, deemed not strong enough for the Royal Adventurers Guild due to their level 50 entry requirement—a level considered average for an 18-year-old—and outright rejected by the ThunderWall Guild for lacking Pegasi blood or the requisite wind or gravity magic. "Without those requirements, you are unwelcomed," their words echoed in his mind, a reminder of a time when his lack of skills and magic had defined him.

Shaking off the memories, Spike's attention was brought back to the present when he spotted Flash Sentry coordinating the rescue mission's final preparations. The atmosphere was tense, but there was a palpable sense of determination among the adventurers and soldiers.

"Flash!" Spike called out as he approached, eager to lend his assistance.

Flash turned, and a wave of relief washed over his face upon seeing Spike. "Spike, thank God you're here," he exclaimed, clapping a hand on Spike's shoulder. "We could really use your help."

Spike nodded, his previous reminiscences giving way to a newfound resolve. "Just tell me what you need me to do. I'm ready."

Flash quickly briefed Spike on the situation, outlining the strategy for penetrating the cave system and rescuing those held within. "We've got teams positioned at various points, ready to move on your signal. Your unique abilities could be the key to ensuring we get in and out with minimal resistance."

Spike listened intently, absorbing every detail. It struck him how much had changed since those days of rejection; now, he was being relied upon as a critical asset in a high-stakes operation. The irony wasn't lost on him, but there was no room for dwelling on the past now. Lives were at stake, including Applejack's, and Spike was determined to do everything in his power to ensure their safe return.

"Understood. Let's not waste any time then," Spike said, his voice steady and filled with purpose. "We've got people to save."

In the bustling hub of central command, where maps sprawled across tables and screens displayed various data points, Flash Sentry and Spike made their way through the organized chaos. Upon their arrival, Flash didn't waste a moment before introducing Spike to two key members of the upcoming operation.

"First up, we have Masahiro Otakuda, but he prefers 'Microchips.' He's a critical asset from Canterlot's Technobrea Guild," Flash explained, gesturing toward a man whose eyes were sharp with intelligence, his posture exuding a quiet confidence.

Microchips offered a nod of acknowledgment to Spike, extending a hand. "Nice to meet you, Spike. Your reputation precedes you. I'm looking forward to leveraging your skills on the field," he said, a slight smile hinting at his anticipation for the mission ahead.

"And you're already acquainted with Charles Sandford, the genius behind your armor," Flash continued, turning towards Charles, whose presence was as reassuring as ever.

Charles grinned, clapping Spike on the shoulder. "Good to see you again, Spike. That armor's going to see some real action today. Ready to put it to the test?" he asked, his casual demeanor belaying the seriousness of their mission.

With the introductions out of the way, Flash gathered the team's focus. "Alright, team, the four of us will be spearheading the frontal assault. This cave system is no joke – it's a labyrinth of dangers. But with Microchips' tech savvy, Charles' engineering genius, Spike's combat prowess, and my leadership, we stand a strong chance at breaching their defenses and securing our people," Flash declared, his voice firm with resolve.

Spike, feeling a surge of adrenaline at the prospect, nodded firmly. "We've got this. Just let us know the plan, and I'm there," he responded, mentally preparing for the challenges that lay ahead.

Microchips chimed in with a technical rundown of the gadgets and surveillance equipment they'd be utilizing, while Charles reassured them of the armor and weaponry's reliability under pressure.

As they each went over their gear, double-checking every item and discussing strategies, there was a palpable sense of camaraderie and determination among them.

As they continued their preparations, Spike's mind whirred with the information laid out in the Action Report handed to him by Flash. His furrowed brows and the puzzled look on his face didn't go unnoticed by Flash, who approached him with a concerned expression.

"What's wrong, Spike? You look like you've hit a snag," Flash inquired, trying to gauge the source of Spike's confusion.

Spike, still absorbed in the details of the report, shared his thoughts. "It just doesn't add up, Flash. Since when do Diamond Dogs kidnap people? Their main interest has always been gems, not hostages."

Flash nodded, understanding the oddity in the situation. "You're right, Spike. It's out of character for them. They're miners and gem hunters at heart, not kidnappers."

Spike paced a little, piecing together the puzzle. "But then, why take Rarity and the other miners? Think about it. Rarity's expertise in gemology could identify the most valuable gems, and the miners... they'd know the best ways to extract those gems without damaging them. It's a perfect combo for someone wanting to exploit their skills for high-value gems."

Flash's eyes widened with realization, a grim expression settling over his face. "That makes a disturbing amount of sense. But who would orchestrate something like this? It's too sudden and too well-coordinated for the Diamond Dogs to come up with on their own."

The conversation caught the attention of Microchips and Charles, who had been double-checking their gear. They joined in, adding their perspectives to the brainstorming session.

Microchips, even the analyst, suggested, "We should consider external influence. Perhaps someone with enough knowledge about Rarity's skills and the miners' expertise orchestrated this to force them into identifying and extracting high-value gems."

Charles, while adjusting a piece of his crafted armor on Spike, chimed in with a thoughtful tone. "And if that's the case, we're not just dealing with a simple kidnapping. This is a targeted operation, which means whoever is behind this knows exactly what they're after."

The group fell into a contemplative silence, each member lost in thought over the implications of their discussion. It was clear that this mission wasn't just about rescuing hostages—it was about unraveling a deeper plot that exploited innocent lives for greed.

As Flash Sentry issued the order to Microchips, the air around the central command tensed with anticipation. Everyone present understood the gravity of the situation, and the need for accurate information was paramount. Microchips set to work, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he accessed various databases and surveillance feeds, piecing together the profile of the new leadership within the Diamond Dogs.

When he finally turned the screen towards the rest of the group, it displayed detailed profiles of Rick "Rover" Canecorso and his lieutenants, Frank "Fido" Ashmore and Steffan "Spot" Rednack. Their military backgrounds were a stark contrast to the usual Diamond Dog operatives, indicating a significant shift in the group's dynamics and capabilities.

Spike, leaning over to get a better view, immediately spotted the red flag in Microchips' findings. "Hold on, everyone," he interjected, a serious note in his voice. "We have to call this off."

Flash, puzzled and concerned by Spike's sudden declaration, asked, "Why? What did you see?"

Spike pointed at the images on the screen that showed the Diamond Dogs armed with Special grade military rifles. "Since when do the Diamond Dogs have access to Special grade military rifles? These are only issued to Canterlot's Royal Armory."

The revelation hit everyone like a ton of bricks. Flash's expression darkened as the implications of Spike's observation sank in. It wasn't just a simple case of kidnapping and forced labor; this was a well-armed and possibly well-funded operation with connections deep enough to access highly restricted military weaponry.

"Damn it," Flash cursed under his breath, immediately grabbing his communicator. "All units, pull back! Evacuate the vicinity of the mines now! This situation is far more dangerous than we anticipated. We're dealing with heavily armed hostiles with military-grade equipment."

The urgency in Flash's voice spurred everyone into action. Orders were relayed, and within moments, the assembled teams began a tactical withdrawal, moving away from the mines with a newfound caution. The discovery of the military-grade weapons not only raised questions about the true extent of the threat they were facing but also about who else might be involved in orchestrating the kidnapping.

As they regrouped at a safe distance, the tension was palpable. The mission had taken a drastic turn, and the stakes were higher than ever. Spike's timely observation had likely saved many lives, but it also opened a Pandora's box of unanswered questions that needed immediate investigation.

"We need to reassess our approach," Flash stated, looking at Spike, Microchips, and Charles. "We're not just up against the Diamond Dogs. There's a bigger player in the shadows, and we need to find out who they are before we make our next move."

In the dim light of the command tent, tension hung thick in the air as the assembled leaders from various guilds and factions sat around a makeshift table, contemplating their next steps. The recent discovery had thrown a wrench into their plans, necessitating a new strategy to deal with the armed and dangerous opponents holding Rarity and the other miners captive.

Flash Sentry, bearing the responsibility as the overall leader of the operation, looked around the table, his expression serious and focused. "We're dealing with a situation far beyond what we initially prepared for. Our enemies are not just the Diamond Dogs but also individuals with access to military-grade weapons and possibly deeper connections," he began, setting the stage for a critical discussion.

Twilight Sparkle, representing the Royal Guild, nodded in agreement. "This changes everything. Our approach needs to be careful and calculated. We can't afford to rush in and risk the lives of the hostages or our teams."

Next to speak was Microchips from Technobrea, his usual analytical demeanor even more pronounced. "We should consider leveraging technology to our advantage. Surveillance, stealth drones, and electronic warfare could give us the upper hand without direct confrontation."

Then, attention shifted to Prince Robert Blueblood, representing the Kingsheart Guild. Leaning back in his chair with an air of superiority, he interjected, "Well, obviously, the solution is simple. Just throw more money and resources at the problem. Equip our people with better weapons and armor. And if that fails, I'm sure my royal influence can persuade someone to resolve this matter."

The room fell silent for a moment, the other leaders exchanging glances at the prince's simplistic and self-centered solution. It was clear his priorities were misaligned with the gravity of the situation.

Finally, Spike, who had been reluctantly chosen to lead the Silver Moon Guild's contribution, spoke up. His voice was calm but carried a weight that demanded attention. "This isn't about who has the better gear or who can throw more money at the problem. It's about strategy, precision, and ensuring the safety of those hostages. We need a plan that minimizes risk and maximizes our chances of success. And we need to work together, despite our differences."

The discussion that followed was intense, with Spike taking an unexpected lead in strategizing a multi-faceted approach that utilized the strengths of each guild.

In the heated atmosphere of the command tent, Prince Blueblood's attempt to undermine Spike immediately backfired, marking the beginning of an intense exchange. The prince, adorned in his usual finery that seemed out of place in the dirt and grit of the command center, scoffed at Spike's plan with a disdainful sneer. "You expect us to follow this... this nobody's lead? His understanding of tactics probably extends no further than apple bucking season!"

Spike, undeterred by the prince's insults, leaned forward, his expression one of cool composure. "Your Highness, while I appreciate your... 'contribution' to this discussion, I believe you're overlooking the essentials. Our enemy isn't just armed with conventional weapons; they're using magic-infused bullets. These aren't your average lead pellets that a thick coat of gold can deflect."

Prince Blueblood laughed, a hollow sound that echoed mockingly in the tent. "Magic bullets? What next, Spike, a dragon to come and save the day? You watch too many fairy tales."

"That's exactly my point, Prince Blueblood. We're not dealing with a fairy tale, but a very real and dangerous threat. Kroirium shields or vests are the only known counter to magic bullets. And unless your vast wealth includes a secret mine of Kroirium, our approach needs to be strategic, not brute force," Spike retorted, his tone firm yet devoid of malice.

Prince Blueblood, taken aback by Spike's detailed knowledge, attempted to salvage his bruised ego. "Well, of course, everyone knows about Kroirium... It's just that we haven't, ah, mobilized our reserves yet."

Spike seized the moment, not to humiliate, but to educate. "Mobilizing reserves of a metal that's almost mythically rare doesn't seem practical. Besides, even if we had Kroirium in abundance, outfitting an entire assault team on such short notice is logistically impossible. Our focus should be on minimizing direct confrontation and maximizing the effectiveness of what we have."

The others in the tent nodded, clearly swayed by Spike's reasoning. Prince Blueblood, his face a mask of frustration, realized his attempts to dominate the meeting were failing spectacularly.

In a last-ditch effort to assert his superiority, Prince Blueblood stood, his voice rising in pitch. "You expect me, a prince of the realm, to take orders from a... a nobody? I refuse to participate in this charade any longer!"

Spike stood as well, his stature unimposing but his presence undeniable. "Prince Blueblood, this isn't about titles or social standing. It's about saving lives. You're welcome to contribute, but not at the expense of the mission's success. If you cannot see past your pride, then perhaps it's best you step aside."

With that, Prince Blueblood, red-faced and visibly shaking with anger, stormed out of the tent, his departure marked by a heavy silence that soon gave way to a collective sigh of relief.

Flash Sentry, after a moment, turned to Spike with a grateful nod. "Thank you, Spike. That was... well handled. Now, let's focus on the task at hand. We have a plan to fine-tune and lives to save."

The remaining leaders, now unified in purpose, turned their attention back to the strategic map laid out before them, ready to tackle the challenge with renewed determination, thanks in no small part to Spike's leadership and the diffusal of a potentially divisive conflict.

As Prince Blueblood stormed out of the tent, his departure marked a tense moment of silence among those left behind. The air was charged with frustration, but also with a newfound sense of solidarity among those who were committed to the mission's success. It wasn't long before another member of the Kingsheart Guild, Lobotka, stepped into the tent, his expression solemn yet determined.

"I'm here to inform you that Prince Blueblood has convinced nearly all of our forces to abandon this mission," Lobotka began, his voice steady. "He cited numerous 'risks' and 'strategic disagreements' as his reasons. However, myself and four other holy mages refuse to abandon those in need. We understand the importance of this mission and are prepared to serve as medics or join the assault, wherever we're needed most."

The revelation sparked a mixture of reactions around the room. Applejack was the first to respond, her voice laced with scorn. "So, the 'noble' Kingsheart Guild is abandoning us because their spoiled prince threw a tantrum? Figures. It's always about their pride and not about doing what's right."

Rainbow Dash chimed in, her tone equally disdainful. "Yeah, talk about being fair-weather friends. When things get tough, they just bail. Thanks for nothing, Kingsheart."

Sunset Shimmer, though slightly more composed, didn't hold back her criticism. "It's disappointing, but not surprising. The Kingsheart Guild has always been more about status than substance. Thank you, Lobotka, and your fellow mages, for choosing to stand with us despite the consequences."

Lobotka nodded, a wry smile crossing his lips. "Thank you for the acknowledgment. We knew what the consequences would be when we made our decision. The Kingsheart Guild may have its priorities, but ours lie with those in danger. We couldn't, in good conscience, turn our backs on this mission."

Flash Sentry, who had been listening intently, finally spoke up. "Your bravery and commitment are commendable. Having you and the other holy mages on our side is a significant boon. You'll be invaluable on the field, both as healers and fighters."

The conversation shifted towards integrating Lobotka and his fellow mages into the operation's strategy. Despite the setback caused by the departure of the Kingsheart forces, the presence of the holy mages bolstered the morale and confidence of the remaining team members. They discussed various tactics, focusing on how best to utilize the unique skills of the mages to support the mission.

“Well, there goes our plan,” said Flash

“I have an idea!” Sunset Shimmer exclaimed as she walked over to the table

The strategy room buzzed with a renewed energy as Sunset Shimmer laid out her proposal. "Considering our diminished numbers and the increased threat level from the Diamond Dogs' military-grade equipment, our best chance lies in stealth and precision. A smaller team, comprised of our most capable fighters, can infiltrate the cave system, locate the prisoners, and extract them with minimal detection."

Flash Sentry nodded in agreement, the gears turning in his mind as he visualized the plan. "It's risky, but it makes sense. A smaller team can move faster and stay under the radar, while the rest of us create a diversion. The Diamond Dogs will be forced to split their attention, giving our team a window to operate."

Microchips, who had been quietly analyzing the cave layouts, chimed in with a technical perspective. "We can use the Technobrea Guild's surveillance drones to provide real-time intel to the assault team. It'll give them eyes inside the cave system, helping them navigate and avoid patrols."

Charles Sandford, arms crossed, looked thoughtful. "I'll make sure the assault team is equipped with the best gear I have. Silent weapons, Kroirium-infused vests for protection against those magic bullets, and communication devices that are shielded from detection."

Spike, who had been listening intently, finally spoke up. "I'll lead the assault team. I know the stakes, and I'm familiar with the terrain from previous missions. We'll need a mix of skills—combat, magic, stealth. Twilight, Rainbow Dash, I want you with me, Flash, Microchips and Cheese Sandwich. Your abilities will be crucial."

Twilight's expression was one of determination. "Count me in. My magical knowledge can help us navigate the caves and deal with any magical defenses they have in place."

Rainbow Dash punched her palm with her fist, her usual bravado shining through. "You got it, Spike! There's no way I'm sitting this one out. We're gonna get Rarity and the miners out of there, no matter what."

As the team rallied around the plan, Applejack, though visibly worried, gave Spike a supportive nod. "Just promise me y'all will be careful. We can't afford any mistakes."

“We will,” Spike said as he and Applejack embraced, this action, however, was about to create a new conflict amongst friends.

As this interaction finished everyone left the command tent to prepare for the upcoming mission.

However, just as Applejack was about to leave the tent herself, Fluttershy approached her with a mix of curiosity and barely concealed jealousy in her tone. "Applejack, why were you and Spike at the baby store? And why did you hug him like that?" Her eyes darted between Applejack and the direction Spike had gone, her expression a mixture of confusion and concern.

At Fluttershy's question, Twilight Sparkle, who had been reviewing some notes, suddenly looked up, her interest piqued. "Yes, Applejack, do tell. What's going on between you and Spike?" Twilight's shock was evident, mirroring Fluttershy's jealousy with her own blend of curiosity.

Applejack, taken aback by the sudden interrogation, tried to suppress a laugh at their expressions. "Well, if y'all must know, Spike and I are engaged," she announced, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, but a proud smile crept onto her face.

"Engaged?!" Fluttershy's voice rose an octave, a mix of surprise and a hint of disappointment coloring her tone. Twilight's mouth fell open, and she blinked several times as if trying to process the information.

"And the baby store?" Twilight finally managed to ask, still trying to wrap her head around the news of the engagement.

Applejack chuckled, shaking her head at their reactions. "We were just lookin' around, planning for the future, you know? It's what engaged folks do sometimes," she explained, her tone light and teasing.

Fluttershy's expression softened, but she couldn't hide a small pout. "Oh, I see. Planning ahead... That's very responsible of you," she said, though her tone suggested she was still wrapping her mind around the idea.

Twilight, finally recovering from her shock, adjusted her glasses and attempted to regain her composure. "Well, congratulations are in order, I suppose. It's just... quite the surprise."

Applejack laughed, enjoying the moment. "Thank y'all. And don't worry, Fluttershy, Twilight, there's plenty of Spike to go around. As a friend, of course," she added quickly, winking at them, which only made Fluttershy huff and Twilight roll her eyes, albeit with small smiles on their faces, unable to resist joining in on the laughter.

Later that same night as Applejack walked around the campsite, her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts triggered by her recent interaction with Fluttershy and Twilight. She had always known that Spike, with his strength, reliability, and kindness, was bound to attract attention from others. The realization that she might not be the only one vying for his affection was daunting, yet she also recognized that in their world, it wasn't uncommon for a man of Spike's stature to have more than one partner. This thought was unsettling, but she was determined to approach the situation with an open heart and mind.

Approaching the group, Applejack noticed the mixed emotions on her friends' faces. Twilight was staring into the distance, lost in thought, while Fluttershy was silently crying, scrolling through her phone. The rest of the girls seemed puzzled by the sudden shift in mood.

Taking a deep breath, Applejack decided it was best to address the elephant in the room. She walked over to Twilight and Fluttershy, her expression one of empathy and resolution. "Hey, y'all," she began, her voice gentle but firm. "I've been thinkin' 'bout what we talked about earlier, 'bout me and Spike... and I reckon there's somethin' we should all consider."

Twilight looked up, curiosity piqued, while Fluttershy wiped her tears and turned to listen. The other girls gathered around, sensing the seriousness of the conversation.

"In our world, it's not uncommon for folks like Spike, who hold great power and respect, to have more than one partner. It's something I've been thinkin' about a lot... and I want y'all to know that I understand it might happen." Applejack's voice was steady, but the vulnerability in her eyes was clear.

Twilight and Fluttershy exchanged glances, both touched and surprised by Applejack's maturity and openness. "Applejack... are you saying you'd be okay with that?" Twilight asked, her voice tinged with a mixture of admiration and concern.

Applejack nodded, her resolve unwavering. "Yes, I am. I love Spike, and I trust him. I want him to be happy, even if that means sharin' his heart. But," she paused, her gaze meeting each of her friends' in turn, "it's important that we all respect each other and communicate openly. If it ever comes to that, I want us to be honest with each other."

Fluttershy, moved by Applejack's words, reached out and hugged her tightly. "Thank you, Applejack. You're so brave and kind. I... I just want Spike to be happy too."

The conversation opened up a floodgate of emotions and thoughts among the group. They discussed their feelings, fears, and hopes for the future, creating a deeper bond of understanding and acceptance among them. It was a moment of unity and strength, a testament to their friendship and love for one another, and for Spike.

“Its just… do both of you love him the same way I do?” Applejack asked

Fluttershy and Twilight looked at each other and then at Applejack

“I… I’ve love him since high school,” Twilight finally opened up to Applejack

“High School!!!!” Applejack said surprised “Twilight, we’ve all been in the same class since 2nd grade, we went to the same middle school, junior high, and high school, and I met Spike, officially about 3 months ago,” Applejack said

“You’re right, we’ve been together since then, but Spike was also our classmate… well, he was a senior in high school when we were only in 9th grade,” Twilight said

“What?” said Applejack

“Yeah, remember, the short and chubby senior that was always nice to us?” said Twilight

Applejack was silent for a moment, until a lot of  memories came crashing in from her school days.

“Need some help with those boxes?” said Sherman

“I do need the help, but, you’ll just end up hurting yourself, partner,” Applejack said back

“Nonsense, I may look like this but I can carry a few crates,” Sherman said as he lifted the crate of apples with some difficulty “You see… nothing to it…” he said out of breath.

“Well, thanks for the help, partner, just need to take them to the kitchen!” Applejack said as she carried 2 crates and Sherman followed close behind doing his best to carry the crate.

Or on another occasion.

“Hey, everything alright?” Sherman asked as he walked up to a crying Applejack

“No… all the boys in school make fun of me because I am stronger than them,” said Applejack

“Ah, they just do that because their egos are hurt, don’t let them bring you down, I mean, there is nothing wrong with being strong, your stronger than me, and I, for once, think that its amazing, it means you are dependable!” said Sherman

“Thanks… it does make me feel better… what’s your name?” asked Applejack

“My name is Sherman, but you can call me Spike!” he said

At the realization of this, Applejack’s eyes opened up wide as well as her mouth.

“You remember now… he did the same for me, many times, he didn’t have to, but, he was always willing to help me with any of my projects, or cheer me up when I failed to impress Princess Celestia, and many times he even gave me a shoulder to cry on… then, at the end of that school year, he graduated… and I was unable to say goodbye to him, or talk to him, and I thought that I was never going to see him again… until Calcutta… and for me… it was a sign… it was like if fate had brought us back together again…” Twilight said

“Twilight… he meant that much to you?” said Applejack

“I… I might not have that deep of a reason behind this, but… when he saved me and those girls from the human traffickers, seeing him fight for us, protect us… and then, give the raped girls their purity back… something in me changed… it was as if… all I ever wanted and needed was before me… I felt… safe… and peace… and… I also felt a sense of bravery I’ve never felt before,” Fluttershy said while turning red

“Fluttershy, you too?” Applejack said

“But… right now, he only has eyes for you Applejack, which almost cements the fact that it is a lost battle,” Twilight said

“Then why don’t you seduce him too?” said Sunset Shimmer, who was just about fed up with the conversation.

“What?” everyone said

“Well, Applejack has admitted that Spike will have more than one lover, and, she might not be ok with it, but, she has technically given the 2 of you the green light to seduce Spike… just let him know how you feel… and if he gets cold feet, Applejack here will reassure him, ain’t that true Applejack?” Sunset Shimmer said

“Well… yes… that is true,” Applejack said

“Then, girls, what are you waiting for?” said Sunset pointing at Spike in the distance, double checking his rifle.

“W-W-W-W-W-Wait… we can just…” Twilight said turning red

‘Th-th-th-there’s a proper time and place for things like this,” Fluttershy continued.

“So much for bravery,” Sunset Shimmer said with a smile as the girls saw Twilight and Fluttershy panicking.

“Huh, never thought Ms. Perfect Apples, here was gonna have to share her man!” Rainbow Dash said with a laugh

“At least I have a MAN to share Dash,” Applejack shot back

“BURN!!!” Pinkie and Sunset Shimmer yelled at Rainbow Dash.

“Man, whatever,” she scoffed.







As Spike and his team cautiously advanced through the twisting, shadow-filled corridors of the cave system, every sense was on high alert. They were a well-prepared group, each member skilled in their respective fields, silently communicating through hand signals and brief, whispered commands. They moved with precision, aware that the hostages’ safety depended on their actions.

Spike, leading the way, signaled for the group to pause. He raised the radio to his mouth, whispering, "Alright, AJ, start the diversion!" His voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of tension.

"Got it!" came Applejack's crisp reply through the static of the radio. But before she could enact their planned distraction, the sound of gunfire echoed through the caverns, not aimed at Spike's team but elsewhere, sowing confusion among them.

Peering over a ledge, they witnessed a scene that took them by surprise. Prince Blueblood, a figure they had not expected to see in the midst of battle, was using his body to shield Rarity, who was pressed against a massive boulder for cover. Despite the distance and the chaos, it was clear to Spike and his team that Blueblood had sustained injuries.

Without a moment's hesitation, Spike gave the order, "AJ, charge!" His voice was a beacon, cutting through the cacophony of gunfire. Simultaneously, he and his team unleashed a barrage of suppressive fire, signaling for Applejack and the other adventurers to emerge from their hidden positions and join the fray.

The battlefield was a whirlwind of action, each member of Spike's team expertly covering the others as they made their advance. Microchips deployed drones to provide aerial surveillance, identifying key enemy positions. Cheese Sandwich, with his deep knowledge of weaponry, provided critical support fire, while Twilight, Rainbow Dash, and Sunset Shimmer used their magic to create barriers and distractions, their powers illuminating the dark cavern with bursts of color.

As Applejack and her team charged from the opposite side, the diamond dogs found themselves caught in a crossfire. Despite their superior numbers, the sudden and coordinated assault from Spike’s team and the adventurers threw them into disarray.

Diamond Dogs’ dead bodies were laying all over the floor, while the injured adventurers were tended to by Lobotka and the other mages, whose powers had been secretly augmented by Spike, ensuring no loss of life happened on their side.

The battle was intense but brief. The element of surprise and the combined strength of Spike's team and the adventurers overwhelmed the diamond dogs. As the dust settled and the echoes of gunfire faded, silence reclaimed the caverns.

Prince Blueblood, though injured, had managed to protect Rarity from the worst of the battle. His unexpected bravery earned him a nod of respect from Spike and his team, a silent acknowledgment of his actions.

“The hell, you doing here?!” said Flash

“He wanted to save Rarity by himself and claim the glory, even though it was suicide,” Spike said as he tended to Prince Blueblood’s injured leg

“It almost worked, if it weren’t for the extravagant dress of hers, it reflected in darkness, and made it easier for them to attack us,” said Prince Blueblood earning a glare from Rarity

“And here I was happy to see my knight in shining armor come and rescue me,” Rarity scoffed

“Well, both of you are idiots,” Spike said

“What!” they both said

“You…” Spike said pointing at Rarity “... know better than to come down to mines like this without proper escort… or equipment!”

“I had the miners with me!” Rarity said

“They are miners, not warriors… no offence guys!” said 

“None taken!” the miners said as they walked past, finally free from their cells

“And you… almost got yourself killed… is your brain actually empty or what?” said Spike

Blueblood didn’t have an answer for that

“Heh, it really does show you are just a royal pain,” Rarity scoffed

“Spike’s right, Rares, you know better,” said Twilight as she walked up to them

“Yeah, it isn’t the first time you’ve been in this sort of situation… although it is the first time you’ve been kidnapped,” Applejack said

“You guys, you should be on my side!” Rarity said

“Not when you’re an idiot!” said Twilight as they all laughed

With the immediate threat neutralized, the team quickly moved to secure the area and begin the process of rescuing the hostages. The adrenaline of battle was replaced by a focused determination to ensure the safety of those they had come to save.

In the aftermath of the battle, as the last echoes of gunfire faded into silence, Flash Sentry approached one of the captured Diamond Dogs. His demeanor was authoritative, yet there was a hint of urgency in his voice, a testament to the critical nature of the situation at hand.

"Where are your leaders?" Flash demanded, his gaze piercing. "And who supplied you with these weapons?"

The captured Diamond Dog, a burly figure with a defiant look in his eyes, hesitated before speaking. "I don't know nothin' about where those guns came from," he growled, his voice rough. "But Rover, Fido, and Spot? They took a handful of our guys and went deeper into the caves."

Flash's expression hardened at the mention of the leaders' names, but before he could press for more information, the ground beneath their feet shuddered violently. The unexpected tremor sent a wave of alarm through everyone present, and for a moment, all other concerns were forgotten.

"What was that? Explosives?" someone muttered, looking around with wide eyes.

The adventurers and rescuers exchanged anxious glances, the sudden seismic activity raising fears of a trap or an ambush. The cave's eerie silence, now punctuated by the occasional drip of water, seemed to amplify their unease.

Flash Sentry turned to address the group, his voice cutting through the tension. "Stay alert," he commanded. "We don't know what we're dealing with yet. But whatever it is, we'll face it together."

As they prepared to move deeper into the cave, the air grew colder, and a sense of foreboding enveloped them. The cave trembled once more, this time more forcefully, as if something massive was making its way through the ancient corridors.

And then, from the darkness ahead, a silhouette emerged. It was unlike anything they had encountered before: a beast of staggering size, its form obscured by the shadows, yet its presence was unmistakable. The creature's heavy steps resounded through the cave, each one sending ripples of fear through the hearts of the adventurers.

The group braced themselves, ready to confront whatever lay ahead. The battle might have been won, but it was clear that their ordeal was far from over.

“EVERYONE GET OUT OF HERE!” Spike yelled motioning for everyone to retreat

Just as he said this, a massive humanoid creature appeared through the walls of the cave, his body covered in knights armor, with odd symbols and runes on it, both his hands carrying massive axes, which he began to swing around bringing down part of the cave, but most horrifying of all, it was his head, or lack there off, as what they all could see, was a massive, cube, with the same design as the armor.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!!!” screamed Flash

“RUN!!” Spike said as they all made a run for it

However, the noise from their footsteps made the beast aware of their presence, and it started to swing its axes around, bringing down the walls of the cave around them.

“WHERE ALMOST THERE!” Rainbow Dash said as she saw the exit

But the monster's footsteps got louder and louder as the floor around them shook.

“FLASH, WITH ME!” Spike said as he turned around and opened fire on the beast

“GOT IT!” Flash said as he did the same, as Microchips, Cheese Sandwich and Sunset Shimmer did they same.

They fired at the beast for 10 seconds, 10 crucial seconds, which was all the rest of the group needed to evacuate from the mines

“NOW, LET’S GO!” Flash said as they all made a run for it.

But the monster was not defeated, and with a powerful swing of his axes, the floor beneath the group, and the walls around them shattered, making them fall into the dark abyss beneath, sealing them inside.
> G.U.C.C. Ch.15 Granite
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As consciousness slowly returned to Spike, Flash, Sunset Shimmer, Microchips, and Cheese Sandwich, they found themselves enveloped in an almost impenetrable darkness. Confusion and disorientation clouded their thoughts as they tried to piece together the events that had led them to this point. The air was thick, heavy with a sense of foreboding that weighed heavily on their spirits.

"Is everyone okay?" Spike's voice cut through the silence, a beacon of concern in the shadowy expanse.

Flash grunted as he tried to get to his feet, his voice strained but determined. "I think so... What happened?... or better yet, what was that thing!"

"I'm not sure," admitted Sunset Shimmer, her voice tinged with worry. "One moment we were ready to confront whatever that was, and the next... darkness."

Microchips, always the analytical one, tried to offer a logical explanation. "It must have been some sort of trap. An enchantment, perhaps, designed to disorient and capture intruders."

Cheese Sandwich, ever the optimist, chimed in, "Well, at least we're all in one piece, right? Could've been worse!"

As their eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light, the group began to take stock of their surroundings. They were in what appeared to be a large cavern, the walls glistening with moisture and the sound of dripping water echoing off the stone. The faintest hint of light filtered in from a distant source, providing just enough illumination to make out the outlines of their companions.

"We need to figure out where we are and find a way back," Spike stated, his voice steady despite the situation. "Let's stick together and move towards that light. It might lead us out of here."

The group nodded in agreement, their resolve strengthened by Spike's leadership. As they made their slow, cautious way towards the source of the light, their minds were filled with questions about what lay in wait for them in the darkness and what had become of the others involved in the rescue mission.

As they continued to walk down the tunnel in complete darkness, they ran into walls, trip over cracks or almost went over ledges.

“We need some light, at this point we’re going to get ourselves k-ah~” Sunset Shimmer said as she tripped

“Look out!” Spike said as he grabbed her, holding her in a very romantic way

“Thanks” Sunset Shimmer said as her face turned red

“No problem,” Spike said still holding her

“Dude, you’re about to be a married man,” Cheese Sandwich said as he got close to the 2 of them.

“SORRY!” Sunset Shimmer said as she jumped off of him incredibly red and flustered

The moment the flashlights flickered to life in their hands, a wave of relief washed over the group, piercing the oppressive darkness that had enveloped them. Microchips, with a hint of pride in his voice, distributed the lights, "Here, this should help us see better."

As they directed the beams towards the cavern walls, they were met with an array of ancient runes and hieroglyphics that seemed to dance eerily in the light. The symbols, unfamiliar and mystic, covered the walls in dense clusters, telling a story lost to time.

"What are these?" Sunset Shimmer murmured, her voice a mix of awe and trepidation.

Microchips leaned in, his curiosity piqued, attempting to make sense of the symbols. "They look ancient... beyond anything I've studied. Maybe they're warnings?"

It was Spike, however, who felt an inexplicable pull towards the inscriptions. As he studied them, the symbols began to form coherent patterns in his mind, as if the message was meant for him to decipher. "They're not just warnings," he said, his voice low and somber. "They tell a story... of a guardian beast, bound to protect something of immense power. But it's not just protection—it's a curse. The guardian is bound to the darkness, eternally vigilant, unleashing wrath upon those who dare to seek the power it guards."

The group exchanged uneasy glances, the light from their flashlights casting long shadows that seemed to twist and turn with the tale.

"Does it say what this... power is?" Flash asked, his voice tinged with unease.

"No," Spike replied, his gaze still fixed on the runes. "But it speaks of a 'dire price' for those who awaken the guardian from its slumber. It's not just about keeping intruders out; it's a warning against the greed that would lead one to seek such power."

The weight of Spike's words hung heavy in the air, a chilling reminder of the unseen dangers that lurked in the depths of the cavern. The message on the walls, ancient and foreboding, served as a stark warning to the group: they were treading on sacred ground, and the penalty for their intrusion could be more than they were prepared to pay.

"We need to be careful," Cheese Sandwich said, trying to inject some levity into the grim atmosphere. "Sounds like we're in a bit of a pickle."

Despite the tension, the group couldn't help but appreciate Cheese's attempt to lighten the mood. Yet, as they continued deeper into the cavern, the message of the runes echoed in their minds, a constant reminder of the caution they needed to exercise in the presence of such ancient and ominous forces.

As they traversed the labyrinthine tunnel, their footsteps echoed, punctuating the heavy silence. Microchips, his mind racing, finally connected the dots of the ominous message they had decoded from the ancient runes. "That beast... it must be the guardian the message spoke of. Something, or someone, must have awakened it."

Spike, his analytical mind working overtime, nodded in agreement. "And I think I know who—or rather, what—they were after. It's Rover, Fido, and Spot. The reason they kidnapped the miners, and specifically Rarity, is starting to make sense."

Flash Sentry, always the tactical thinker, furrowed his brow. "Go on," he encouraged Spike.

"They weren't just kidnapping at random. They needed skilled miners to reach something... something deep within the cavern. A collapsed dungeon, perhaps," Spike theorized, his voice steady despite the weight of his realization.

Sunset Shimmer chimed in, her eyes widening as she followed Spike's train of thought. "And Rarity's expertise with gemstones... They needed her to identify whatever treasure they believed was buried here."

The pieces of the puzzle were coming together, but the revelation did little to ease the tension. The guardian beast's awakening was not a mere accident; it was a calculated move by the Diamond Dogs to breach a sacred seal, risking the wrath of a creature bound to protect it.

Cheese Sandwich whistled, breaking the brief silence that had fallen over the group. "Talk about going to extreme lengths for treasure hunting. They really didn't know what they were messing with, did they?"

Microchips adjusted his glasses, a grave look on his face. "The implications are dire. If Rover and his gang have managed to awaken the guardian, who knows what else they've unleashed. This isn't just about treasure; it's about the safety of everyone involved."

Flash Sentry nodded, his expression serious. "We need to stop them before they cause any more damage. It's not just about rescuing Rarity and the miners anymore. We're dealing with forces that should have remained undisturbed."

The group shared a determined look, knowing the path ahead would be fraught with danger. But with the safety of their friends and the balance of ancient powers at stake, turning back was not an option.

"Let's move," Spike said, his voice firm. "We've got a guardian to pacify and some very misguided dogs to deal with."

As they pressed on, each member of the group was acutely aware of the stakes.

As time passed on, the group arrived at what appeared to be a rotunda of sorts, and then static, coming from Microchip’s walkie talkie.

The group paused as Microchips fiddled with the walkie-talkie, static crackling through the device before Applejack's anxious voice broke through. "Spike? Spike, are y'all alright? We heard an explosion!"

Spike grabbed the walkie-talkie. "AJ, we're okay. Listen, we've figured out what's going on here."

Applejack's voice was thick with worry. "Tell me everything."

Spike took a deep breath, his words measured and deliberate. "The Diamond Dogs... they weren't just randomly kidnapping miners. They had a specific goal in mind. They were after something hidden deep within this cavern—a collapsed dungeon. And they needed Rarity because of her expertise with gemstones."

A pause hung in the air as the gravity of the situation sank in. "So, what you're saying is... this was all planned? To find some sort of treasure?"

"Exactly," Spike confirmed. "But it's more dangerous than they realized. They've awakened something—a guardian of sorts. It's why everything's gone sideways. We're trying to get to them before they cause any more harm."

Applejack's voice was steadier now, the initial panic replaced by determination. "What can we do from out here?"

"Keep the area secure. And be ready; we might need a quick exit. This guardian, it's not going to be easy to pacify. But we have to try—for everyone's sake."

"Understood," Applejack replied, her voice resolute. "Be careful, Spike. All of y'all. We'll be ready for whatever comes."

Spike handed the walkie-talkie back to Microchips, the group sharing a momentary, silent understanding. The mission had just taken on a new level of complexity, but with the stakes so high, failure was not an option.

"Let's keep moving," Flash said, breaking the silence as they continued to press onwards.

Minutes later, Flash halted the group at the crossroad, the beams from their flashlights scattering shadows along the two diverging paths. After a brief moment of contemplation, he made his decision. "We'll split up. It'll increase our chances of finding either an exit or the culprits behind this mess."

Microchips, having just finished the repairs on the walkie-talkies, handed one to each member. "Make sure to keep these on. We don't want to lose contact down here."

Spike nodded, gripping his walkie-talkie firmly. "Got it. Stay sharp, everyone. We don't know what's down these paths."

Sunset Shimmer, who was paired with Spike, added, "And let's not forget about that guardian. If it's as dangerous as we think, we need to be ready for anything."

Flash, Microchips, and Cheese Sandwich turned to take the right path, while Spike and Sunset took the left. The groups exchanged determined glances before setting off into the darkness.

As Spike and Sunset ventured down their chosen path, the silence between them was filled with the sound of their cautious footsteps. Spike broke the silence, "Keep an eye out for any clues. Anything that can tell us more about what the Diamond Dogs were after."

Sunset nodded, her magic at the ready. "And let's try to stay out of sight. If there are any of those dogs ahead, we don't want to alert them before we're ready."

Their conversation was occasionally punctuated by static-filled updates from Flash's group, each side reporting back their findings and any signs of danger they encountered. The communication kept them connected, a lifeline in the sprawling, unknown depths of the cavern.

As they moved forward, the walls of the cavern began to show more and more signs of excavation, evidence of the Diamond Dogs' relentless search for whatever treasure lay hidden within. Spike couldn't help but feel a growing sense of unease. What would they find at the end of this path? And more importantly, would they be ready to face it?

"Stay close, Sunset," Spike murmured, his hand subconsciously reaching for his weapon. "We're getting closer, I can feel it."

SOME TIME LATER

“Hey Spike, how long do you think we’ve been walking for?” asked Sunset Shimmer

“A couple of hours, I think,” said Spike

“Have you ever gotten used to this? Dungeon crawling?” asked Sunset

“No… it is only my 5th time,” Spike said as they continued to press on

Moments later, the 2 of them stumbled upon something… odd… it was a temple of sorts.

As Spike and Sunset Shimmer approached the temple, the architecture struck them as odd, unlike anything they had encountered in their adventures. It stood there, silent and imposing, a relic of a bygone era wrapped in shadows and mystery. The gem that adorned its pinnacle pulsed with an eerie light, drawing Spike closer with an almost magnetic pull.

"Wait, Spike!" Sunset Shimmer's voice echoed with concern. "This doesn't feel right. There's something off about that gem."

Spike, however, was too captivated by the gem's allure. "I'll be fine, Sunset. I just want to see what it is." Despite her pleas, he proceeded, confident in his abilities to handle whatever came their way.

As he reached out to the gem, attempting to decipher its nature through his console, it remained an enigma, refusing to reveal its secrets. Sunset Shimmer, unable to stand back any longer, stepped closer to him. That's when the gem's glow intensified, shifting from a soft pulsing to a vibrant, menacing red.

Suddenly, the gem cracked, releasing a surge of energy that enveloped Sunset Shimmer in flames that didn't seem to burn but rather transformed. Spike recoiled in shock, barely comprehending what was happening before his eyes.

As the flames dissipated, Sunset Shimmer stood transformed. Her laughter, deep and unsettling, filled the air, sending chills down Spike's spine. Her appearance had changed drastically; her body now bore the marks of a creature from the depths of legend, her eyes glowing with a malevolent light.

"S-Sunset?" Spike stammered, disbelief and concern mingling in his voice.

The creature that was once Sunset Shimmer turned to face him, a sinister smile spreading across her newly formed demonic visage. "Oh, Spike," she said, her voice a haunting echo of its former self, "you have no idea what you've unleashed."

Spike, realizing the gravity of the situation, took a defensive stance. "Sunset, if you're still in there, fight this! I don't want to hurt you!"

But the demon laughed, the sound reverberating through the ancient temple. "Hurt me? Oh, you couldn't even if you tried. This power... it's incredible!"

Spike's mind raced, trying to find a way to reach Sunset, to bring her back from the brink. He knew he had to act fast, before whatever had taken hold of her compelled her to do something they would both regret.

"Sunset, listen to me," Spike implored, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at his heart. "You're stronger than this. Don't let it control you."

The demon paused, a flicker of conflict crossing her twisted features. It was a glimmer of hope, a sign that Sunset Shimmer, his friend, was still fighting to break free from the darkness that had enveloped her.

In the dim light of the ancient temple, Spike braced himself as Sunset Shimmer, or rather the demon that had taken over her, launched herself at him. Her movements were swift and precise, more aggressive than anything he had seen from her before. Spike dodged her initial strike, narrowly avoiding a blow that would have surely knocked him off his feet.

"Sunset, I don't want to fight you!" Spike called out, trying to reach the friend he knew was still inside. "You have to fight it!"

But the demon only sneered, her laughter echoing off the stone walls as she prepared for another attack. Spike realized he couldn't rely on brute force; he needed to be strategic. He dodged her attacks, using his agility to keep distance between them, always attempting to talk her down.

"Remember who you are, Sunset! This isn't you!" Spike pleaded as he evaded a particularly vicious swipe. "You're stronger than whatever this thing is!"

The battle raged on, with Spike focusing on defense, trying to wear her out while avoiding causing any real harm. Each dodge and weave was calculated, aimed at finding an opening to break through to her without inflicting damage.

Sunset's attacks were relentless, but there were moments, brief flashes in her eyes, that suggested she was still fighting to regain control. Spike clung to those moments, using them as fuel to keep going, to keep trying to reach her.

"I know you can hear me, Sunset!" Spike shouted, seizing a momentary pause in the onslaught. "You've always been one of the bravest people I know! Don't let this thing win!"

Their eyes locked, and for a heartbeat, Spike saw the real Sunset Shimmer struggling to surface. It was a glimmer of hope, a sign that his words were getting through. Encouraged, Spike continued, weaving around her attacks, always speaking, always reaching out.

"Think about the people who care about you, Sunset! We need you to come back to us!" Spike implored, dodging another attack and gently trying to restrain her, aiming to subdue rather than to hurt.

The fight continued, spiraling into a crescendo of desperation. Spike, panting and dodging, could see the physical toll the battle was taking on both of them. Sunset Shimmer, under the demon's control, seemed to grow more ferocious, her attacks fueled by something beyond mere anger. Yet, Spike noticed the exhaustion creeping into her movements, a sign of the internal struggle she was enduring.

As Spike narrowly avoided another strike, he realized the key to winning this battle wasn't through physical confrontation but by reaching Sunset's true self. He needed to connect with her on a deeper level, to pierce through the darkness that had enveloped her.

"SUNSET!" Spike yelled, his voice echoing with all the strength he could muster, hoping to break through the barrier the demon had built around her consciousness.

Suddenly, the surroundings seemed to blur, the physical world fading away as Spike found himself standing in a mindscape, a representation of Sunset Shimmer's inner world. It was a tumultuous place, stormy skies overhead, reflecting the turmoil within her. Around him, Spike could see scenes from Sunset's past, moments where she had succumbed to darkness before.

He saw her transform into this demonic entity, each transformation fueled by fear, anger, or despair. But this time, something was different. Spike was here, in her mind, a beacon of light in the oppressive darkness.

"Sunset," Spike called out gently, reaching towards her. "You're not alone. I'm here with you."

In the center of the chaos, he found her—the real Sunset Shimmer—curled up, besieged by her own demons. Spike approached her slowly, his hand extended, his presence a calming force.

"You don't have to fight this alone," Spike said softly, his voice cutting through the noise of her fears. "Let me help you. Together, we can overcome this."

As Spike's words reached her, Sunset looked up, her eyes meeting his. In this mindscape, Spike could see the conflict within her, the battle she was fighting against the darkness that threatened to consume her.

"Help me, Spike," she whispered, her voice a mere echo in the storm.

Spike took her hand, and the moment their fingers touched, a radiant light exploded around them, banishing the shadows. The scenes of her past transformations dissolved, replaced by memories of friendship, laughter, and light.

Together, they stood strong in the face of the demon's onslaught, their combined willpower a fortress against its influence. Slowly, the darkness receded, the demon's hold weakening under the weight of their resolve.

"You're stronger than your demons, Sunset. Always have been," Spike reassured her, his presence a steady anchor in the swirling tempest of her mind.

With Spike's help, Sunset began to push back, reclaiming control bit by bit. The bond between them, forged in friendship and understanding, was her lifeline, pulling her back from the brink of despair.

As the darkness faded, and Sunset regained control, the mindscape around them brightened, symbolizing her victory over the demon. With one final push, they expelled the darkness, leaving Sunset whole once more.

Spike and Sunset Shimmer, still recovering from the intense battle, found solace in each other's company as they sat on the ancient stairs of the temple. The air around them was heavy with the residue of magic and emotion, yet in that moment, there was a sense of peace.

"That... was more intense than anything I've ever experienced," Spike said, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

Sunset sighed, her gaze fixed on the horizon, where the light was beginning to seep through the darkness of the cave. "It's a part of me I've always struggled with," she admitted. "The demon blood running through my veins. It's a legacy from a past I had no say in, a power I never wanted."

Spike turned to look at her, his expression one of understanding and compassion. "But you've been fighting it, right? Keeping it under control?"

"Yeah, with Twilight's help," Sunset continued, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she remembered the support she had received from her friend. "She helped me find ways to suppress it, to keep the demon inside from taking over. But it's always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for a moment of weakness."

Spike could sense the fear and the burden in her voice. "And during the prom...?"

Sunset's smile faded, and she looked down, her hands clasped tightly together. "It was one of my darkest moments. The demon took over completely, and I... I hurt a lot of people. It's something I've never forgiven myself for. The fear of losing control again, of hurting someone... it haunts me."

Spike reached out, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "But today, you fought it. You won, Sunset. With a little help, sure, but it was you who overcame it in the end."

Sunset looked up, her eyes meeting his. "Do you really think so? Sometimes, I feel like it's a battle I'll never truly win."

"I know so," Spike said firmly. "Every day you fight that battle, you're winning. And you're not alone in this. You have friends, people who care about you and will stand by you, no matter what."

A tear slipped down Sunset's cheek, but this time, it was accompanied by a genuine smile. "Thank you, Spike. I... I needed to hear that."

They sat there for a while longer, sharing a silence filled with mutual understanding and support. Spike had not only saved Sunset from the demon's control but had also given her something perhaps even more valuable: hope.

"Let's head back," Spike finally said, standing up and offering his hand to Sunset. "We've got friends waiting for us, and a mission to complete."

Sunset took his hand, and together, they made their way back through the caverns, stronger for the trials they had faced.

As Spike and Sunset Shimmer left the temple behind, the darkness of the tunnel enveloped them once more. They moved cautiously, their senses heightened by the recent encounter. The air grew heavier, more oppressive, as they ventured deeper, a foul stench beginning to permeate the atmosphere.

"What is that smell?" Sunset grimaced, her face contorting in disgust.

Spike's expression hardened, his experience in various dungeons giving him a grim understanding of what lay ahead. "That... is the smell of death," he replied, his voice low and steady.

Before Sunset could respond, Flash, Microchips, and Cheese Sandwich emerged from a connecting tunnel, their faces twisted in revulsion as they too encountered the unbearable odor.

"Gods, that's horrendous!" Flash exclaimed, covering his nose. "What's causing it?"

Spike and Sunset exchanged a glance, the gravity of the situation settling in. "It's likely the aftermath of whatever conflict occurred here," Spike theorized. "We should proceed with caution. There's no telling what we'll find."

The group continued, the smell growing stronger with each step. They braced themselves, prepared for the worst. As they rounded a corner, the source of the odor became apparent. The cavern opened up to reveal a grim scene: the bodies of several Diamond Dogs, scattered across the floor, their lifeless eyes staring into the void.

Microchips turned away, unable to stomach the sight. Cheese Sandwich muttered a prayer under his breath for the departed souls. Flash's expression was grim, but resolute. "We need to find out what happened here. This... this isn't the work of a simple skirmish."

Spike nodded, stepping forward to examine the scene more closely. "These wounds... they're precise, calculated. Someone or something took these lives with efficiency."

Sunset Shimmer, though shaken, stood by Spike, her resolve firm. "We can't let their deaths be in vain. We need to stop whatever caused this."

The group agreed, a silent pact forming among them. They would see this mission through to the end, not just for the sake of their friend Rarity and the other miners, but also to ensure that the tragedy that befell these souls would not be repeated.

As they prepared to move on, Spike looked back at the carnage one last time. "Let's be careful. Whatever we're dealing with is dangerous and likely still nearby. We can't afford any mistakes."

As they navigated the twists and turns of the cavernous labyrinth, the group’s tense silence was shattered by the sound of gunfire and anguished screams echoing through the tunnels. With a sense of urgency, they hastened their pace towards the chaos, driven by a mix of fear and determination.

Upon reaching the source of the tumult, they were met with a harrowing sight. The battle had ceased, leaving behind a devastating aftermath. Bodies lay strewn across the ground, lifeless, with wounds identical to those they had encountered earlier. The grim realization that there were no survivors to save hung heavy in the air.

As they surveyed the grim scene, trying to piece together what had transpired, they noticed a faint movement among the carnage. Approaching cautiously, they found a gravely injured member of the Diamond Dogs, his breaths shallow and labored.

The group gathered around him, hoping for some insight into the ordeal. With great effort, the dying man focused his gaze on them, a mixture of fear and resignation in his eyes. In a hoarse whisper, laden with pain, he uttered a cryptic message, "The shadows... they whisper... death's design... forged in darkness... the guardian... awakens..."

Before they could inquire further, the light faded from his eyes, leaving them with more questions than answers. The eerie message sent a chill down their spines, casting a shadow of foreboding over their mission.

"What does that even mean?" Flash asked, his voice tinged with frustration and concern. "Guardian? What guardian?"

Sunset Shimmer, her expression troubled, shared her thoughts. "It sounds like something or someone ancient... maybe what we're dealing with isn't just the Diamond Dogs."

Microchips, frowning in concentration, added, "Death's design, forged in darkness... it could imply a trap or a weapon of some sort. But what kind of guardian whispers in shadows?"

Cheese Sandwich, visibly shaken, muttered a prayer for the fallen, "May they find peace beyond the veil."

Spike, deep in thought, broke the silence, "Whatever it is, it's clear we're up against something far more sinister than we anticipated. We need to stay alert and keep moving. This guardian, whatever or whoever it is, might be the key to understanding everything that's happening."

The group's cautious advance through the maze of tunnels culminated in the discovery of a vast chamber. The dim light revealed three figures huddled against the far wall, visibly injured and on the brink of desperation. As the team entered, the figures, driven by fear and survival instinct, attempted to aim their firearms at the newcomers. Without hesitation, Spike acted, disarming them with precise shots that sent their weapons clattering to the ground.

Approaching the subdued trio, Spike's eyes widened in recognition. "Rover, Fido, Spot," he murmured, identifying the leaders of the Diamond Dogs. His companions exchanged looks of surprise and tension.

Flash, taking the initiative, began the interrogation, his voice stern and demanding. "What's going on here? What were you planning with the kidnappings and this... this operation?"

Rover, the most composed of the three despite his injuries, grimaced in pain before speaking. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," he admitted, his voice strained. "We were approached... offered a fortune to uncover something buried deep within these caves."

Fido, his voice weak and trembling, added, "They said it was a treasure, something that would make us rich beyond our wildest dreams. But it was a curse, a damned curse!"

Spot, barely able to maintain consciousness, whispered hoarsely, "The guardian... we awoke it. It's been hunting us... killing anyone it finds. We were wrong to delve so greedily, so deep."

Flash's expression hardened. "Who approached you? Who's behind this?" he pressed, seeking answers to the puzzle that had led to such chaos.

Rover shook his head slowly, his gaze fixed on the ground. "Doesn't matter now... We're as good as dead. The guardian won't rest until it's silenced everyone... It's protecting something... something ancient and evil."

The revelation sent a shiver through the group, the pieces of the puzzle slowly coming together, yet leaving them with a daunting task ahead. Spike, determined to put an end to the menace, clenched his fists. "We need to find this guardian. We have to stop it before it causes more harm."

Sunset Shimmer, still reeling from her own encounter with dark forces, nodded in agreement. "We'll need a plan. And we'll need to be careful. Whatever this guardian is, it's unlike anything we've faced before."

Just then, the wall behind them cracked and then exploded with a powerful gust of wind.

The sudden, explosive entrance of the unseen adversary threw the cavern into chaos. Dust and debris filled the air as the group instinctively dodged the deadly arc of the swinging axe. The sound of its whoosh was a grim reminder of the threat they now faced head-on.

In the aftermath of the attack, Spike and his allies gathered their wits, the grim reality setting in as they realized Rover, Fido, and Spot had met their gruesome end. There was no time for shock or mourning, however, as the perpetrator of the attack retreated back into the shadows from whence it came.

"We have to go after it!" Spike declared, his resolve hardening. The rest of the group, though visibly shaken, nodded in agreement, understanding the stakes had risen dramatically.

Flash Sentry, always the tactician, briefly assessed their options. "We move together, and we stay alert. Whatever that thing is, it's dangerous," he instructed, leading the charge with his weapon at the ready.

Microchips, adjusting the settings on his gadgets to better track their foe, added, "Sensors are picking up movement ahead. It's fast, but I think we can catch it."

As they ventured deeper into the uncharted depths of the cavern, the eerie silence was punctuated only by their cautious footsteps and the distant echoes of their quarry moving just out of sight. The atmosphere grew increasingly oppressive, a tangible sense of dread looming over them.

Sunset Shimmer, still feeling the remnants of the power that had briefly taken hold of her, whispered, "Be on your guard. We don't know what this guardian is capable of."

Cheese Sandwich, ever the optimist despite the situation, managed a weak joke to lighten the mood. "Well, at least we know it's not friendly. That narrows it down, right?"

Their pursuit led them through a series of winding tunnels, each turn a potential ambush point, until they finally arrived at a large, open cavern. It was here that they caught their first clear glimpse of the guardian.

The creature was a towering figure, its body shrouded in shadow, making it difficult to discern any detailed features. The axe it wielded glowed with an ominous light, suggesting a magical origin. Its eyes, if it had any, were hidden, but the group could feel its gaze upon them, evaluating, threatening.

"This is it," Spike said, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. "We end this now, for everyone who's suffered because of it."

With that the Flash, Microchips and Cheese Sandwich opened fire, against the guardian, however, the bullets seemed to not do any good as they just bounced off of the guardian.

“Do not waste your time, you three are not strong enough… but, the Demi-God and the Demoness can try… if they think they are strong enough,” the Guardian said

The cavern's eerie silence was shattered by the Guardian's voice, its timbre resonating with an authority that seemed to vibrate through the very stone around them. The group stood frozen, processing the entity's words, the mention of "Demi-God" and "Demoness" sending a shockwave of realization through Spike and Sunset Shimmer.

Spike stepped forward, his resolve steeling. "We didn't come here to fight you," he started, his voice steady, "but we will defend ourselves and stop you if we must. Why are you protecting this place? What's so important here?"

The Guardian's laugh, deep and unsettling, echoed off the walls. "Brave words for one so young. This place," it gestured around, "is older than you can imagine, filled with power that must not be disturbed. I am its keeper, tasked with guarding against those who would seek to misuse its secrets."

Sunset Shimmer, her previous transformation fresh in her mind, added, "We're not here to take anything. We're trying to stop those who are." Her voice, though firm, carried a hint of the power that had surged through her earlier, a reminder of her connection to the darker forces at play.

The Guardian eyed them, its gaze lingering on Sunset Shimmer. "Your power... it is not of this world. You've tasted the darkness, yet you stand here, seeking to protect rather than destroy."

Flash Sentry, seizing the moment, pressed further. "Help us understand. If there's a threat from within these walls, we need to know. We can help protect it."

The Guardian seemed to consider their words, the oppressive air around them lightening ever so slightly. "Long ago, this place was sealed to contain a force capable of bending reality to its will. The treasures you seek, the 'diamonds'... they are but fragments of its power. Unchecked, they could bring about an era of chaos."

Microchips, his curiosity piqued, asked, "What kind of force are we talking about? And how do we ensure it stays sealed?"

"The force," the Guardian began, its tone grave, "is ancient, from a time before your civilizations took root. It is not evil, nor is it good—it simply is. To ensure it remains contained, the seal must not be broken. The ones you pursued, they unknowingly began to unravel the bindings. It must be repaired, and quickly."

Cheese Sandwich, ever the pragmatist, chimed in, "So, what do you need from us? How do we fix this?"

The Guardian's response was clear, "You must venture deeper, to the heart of the seal. Only there can the damage be assessed and, with your unique powers, perhaps repaired. But beware, the path is perilous, and the force within... it will test you in ways you cannot imagine."

The group exchanged glances, understanding the weight of their newfound quest. They had come to rescue their friend, but now found themselves embroiled in a mission of far greater importance.

"Then we'll do it," Spike declared, determination in his eyes. "We'll fix the seal and protect whatever is down there."

The Guardian nodded, its form beginning to fade as it pointed to a massive golden door. "Then go, with my blessing. May your strength guide you through the darkness."

As the Guardian disappeared, the group gathered their gear, readying themselves for the journey ahead.

The massive golden door loomed before them, its surface inscribed with symbols that shimmered in the torchlight. At the center, a riddle was carved, demanding an answer for passage:

"Born of fire, ender of night,
I vanish at dawn's first light.
What am I?"

The group huddled together, murmuring amongst themselves. Flash Sentry scratched his head, "It sounds simple, but why does it feel like there's more to it?"

Sunset Shimmer pondered the words, "It's poetic, symbolic. But what does it truly signify in this context?"

As they debated, Microchips' eyes widened. He recalled the cryptic message spoken by the dying Diamond Dog, a phrase that hadn't made sense until now. "Wait," he interrupted, "remember what the Diamond Dog said right before he died? 'The shadow fears the flame.'"

Everyone paused, turning their attention to him. "Of course," Spike exclaimed. "It's not just any answer. It's specific to this place, to what it guards."

Gathering his courage, Microchips stepped forward and spoke clearly, "The answer is 'shadow.'"

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the golden door began to rumble, its surface glowing with a warm light as it slowly swung open, revealing the path forward.

"Nicely done, Microchips," Flash complimented, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Yeah, but how did the Diamond Dog know that?" Cheese Sandwich pondered aloud.

"It's likely they'd been trying to solve it for a while," Sunset suggested. "Maybe they overheard it from the Guardian or found it in their research."

As they passed through the now-open door, the air grew colder, and a sense of foreboding filled the cavern. The path ahead was lit by an eerie, pulsating light that seemed to breathe with life.

Spike took the lead, his senses heightened. "Stay alert. Whatever we're going to find ahead, it won't be welcoming."

The group nodded in agreement, their resolve hardened by the trials they'd already faced. With the riddle behind them, they ventured deeper into the heart of the cavern, towards the ancient seal that needed their protection.

As the group ventured into the chamber, their eyes were immediately drawn to the far end where six resplendent diamonds lay on ancient pedestals, bathing the room in a soft, ethereal glow. Without a word, they each approached a diamond, drawn by an unseen force. As their hands touched the cool surface of the gems, the diamonds cracked open, releasing a surge of energy that coursed through their bodies.

Sunset Shimmer's transformation was the most dramatic. As the energy enveloped her, she once again took on her demonic form, but this time, there was a marked difference. Her eyes, instead of blazing with uncontrolled power, shone with a lucid, aware light. She flexed her hands, marveling at the control she now wielded over her demon blood.

"I... I can control it," she whispered in awe, her voice a mix of disbelief and triumph.

Everyone else experienced transformations of their own. Flash Sentry felt a surge of tactical knowledge flood his mind, enhancing his leadership skills. Microchips' intellect seemed to expand, allowing him to see patterns and solutions he hadn't before. Cheese Sandwich's creativity burst forth, inspiring him with new, innovative ideas. Each member of the group had been granted gifts by the diamonds, amplifying their abilities.

Spike, however, stood apart. As the energy washed over him, he remained unchanged, his expression contemplative. "Why didn't it affect me?" he pondered aloud, more curious than concerned.

Before anyone could offer theories, the ground trembled beneath their feet. From the shadows at the edge of the room, the box-headed creature they had encountered at the entrance burst forth, its menacing presence filling the chamber.

Flash Sentry immediately took a defensive stance, readying his weapon. "Back to back, everyone! We don't know what this thing is capable of!"

Microchips adjusted his glasses, analyzing the creature's movements. "It seems to be reacting to the energy we absorbed. Maybe it's here to reclaim it?"

Sunset Shimmer, now in full control of her demonic powers, stepped forward, her voice steady. "Let me handle this. I want to test my new strength."

Spike, observing the situation, nodded. "We've got your back, Sunset. Let's see what you can do."

As the creature charged, the group braced themselves, ready to support Sunset in her first real test of control over the demon within her.

As the creature lunged forward with a ferocity that seemed to shake the very foundation of the chamber, Spike and Sunset Shimmer braced themselves for the imminent battle. The creature, an amalgamation of nightmare and reality, towered over them, its numerous eyes glowing with a malevolent light. The rest of the group positioned themselves strategically, ready to support their frontliners with everything they had.

Sunset, fully embracing her demonic form, was the first to engage. She darted towards the creature, leaving trails of dark fire in her wake. Her claws extended, ready to rend through the creature's thick hide. She met the creature's first attack, a sweeping blow aimed to crush her, with a powerful barrier of eldritch energy that she conjured in the nick of time. The impact resonated through the chamber, but Sunset held her ground, pushing back with a roar of defiance.

Flash, Microchips, and Cheese Sandwich launched their counterattack in perfect unison. Flash, moving with a soldier's precision, fired a volley of magic-imbued bullets, aiming for the creature's eyes to blind it. Microchips, tapping into the newfound depth of his intellect, deployed a series of intricate, glowing runes in the air around the creature, each one exploding with electric fury upon contact. Cheese Sandwich, his creative mind supercharged, fashioned a series of makeshift grenades from the materials in his pack, hurling them towards the creature with uncanny accuracy. The explosions tore at the creature's flanks, opening wounds that seeped dark ichor.

For a moment, it seemed their combined might was enough to overpower the beast. However, the creature was not to be underestimated. With a bellow that echoed like thunder, it summoned a dark miasma that enveloped it, healing its wounds at a speed visible to the naked eye. Then, with a swiftness that belied its massive size, it retaliated, unleashing a barrage of shadowy tendrils that erupted from its body, targeting each member of the group.

Spike sprang into action, intercepting tendrils that aimed for Sunset and himself with swift, precise shots from his rifle, now glowing with an otherworldly light. Yet, for every tendril he severed, two more seemed to take its place. It was a battle of attrition they were ill-equipped to win.

In the chaos, Flash, Microchips, and Cheese Sandwich found themselves overwhelmed. The tendrils ensnared them, lifting them off the ground before hurling them against the cavern walls with bone-crushing force. They hit the ground hard, knocked unconscious by the impact, leaving Spike and Sunset to face the creature alone.

“You mortals are weak,” said the beast

“And yet I could stop you!” Spike said back

“Something that won’t happen again!” said the beast as it got covered in the black miasma again.

Sunset, realizing the direness of their situation, tapped into the deepest reserves of her demonic power. Her body ignited with a blaze of dark fire, her eyes burning with a resolve that matched the intensity of the flames. She launched herself at the creature once more, her attacks now fueled by a raw, primal fury.

Spike, not to be outdone, harnessed his own unique powers, his body surrounded by a nimbus of energy that crackled and sparked with every movement. He moved like a wraith, his attacks a blur of motion that left afterimages in their wake. Together, they fought the creature with a desperation born of knowing there was no retreat, no surrender.

The battle raged on, the air thick with the sound of clashing forces, the chamber illuminated by the eerie light of magic and fire. Spike and Sunset pushed the creature back, step by grueling step, their every move a testament to their determination and skill.

Finally, in a moment of perfect synchronicity, Sunset and Spike unleashed a combined assault that left no room for evasion. Sunset's demonic flames met Spike's energy-infused strike in a cataclysmic explosion that rocked the cavern. The creature, caught at the epicenter of the blast, let out a final, deafening roar before collapsing, its body disintegrating into ash that was swiftly carried away by a sudden, chilling wind.

As the dust settled, Spike and Sunset, exhausted and battered, supported each other, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.

As Spike and Sunset Shimmer hurried over to their fallen companions, their focus was solely on ensuring their safety. However, the respite was short-lived. The ominous sound of metal against stone echoed through the cavern, heralding the return of the indomitable beast they had believed defeated. As it emerged from the shadows, its axes glinting menacingly in the dim light, a chill of realization swept over Spike—the creature was not only unscathed but seemed to possess a resilience beyond their worst fears.

In an instant, the creature launched another furious attack. Spike and Sunset barely managed to evade the deadly sweep of the axes, which sliced through the air and stone with terrifying ease. Observing the axes more closely, Spike recognized the distinct shimmer of Gogrium—a metal notorious for its lethal properties and rumored indestructibility. Knowing the gravity of their predicament, Spike steeled himself for the inevitable confrontation.

As the creature raised its axes for another strike, Spike acted on instinct. He surged forward with a burst of speed, fueled by determination and an unyielding will to protect his friends. Intercepting the creature's arms mid-swing, Spike exerted every ounce of his strength against the monstrous force. The standoff was more than physical; it was a clash of wills, a battle of resolve.

"Your efforts are futile," the creature hissed, its voice a disturbing blend of scorn and amusement. "This chamber shall be your tomb. Not one of you possesses the power to vanquish me. To leave, you must kill me, and that, Demi-God, is an impossibility."

Spike locked eyes with the creature, his gaze unflinching. "There's always a way," he countered, the strain evident in his voice but his resolve unwavering. "Your confidence is your weakness. You underestimate us."

The creature laughed, a sound that sent shivers down their spines. "Foolishness! I have dwelled in these depths for centuries, unchallenged, undefeated. Your courage is commendable but ultimately pointless. The Gogrium that forges my axes is unbreakable, your demise, inevitable."

Spike's mind raced, searching for a solution in the creature's taunts. "Why defend this place? What compels you to guard it so fiercely?"

The creature paused, its cruel amusement replaced by a cold seriousness. "I am bound by an ancient pact, sworn to protect the treasures and secrets buried within these walls. Those who seek to plunder them, like those Diamond Dogs and now you, must be eradicated."

Spike sensed an opportunity, a faint glimmer of hope amidst the creature's ominous declaration. "And if we sought not to plunder but to understand? To preserve?"

A moment of silence followed, the creature seemingly contemplating Spike's words. Then, with a dismissive snarl, it pushed Spike back with a force that sent him tumbling. "Words are wind. Prove your intent, and perhaps, just perhaps, you might find mercy in my judgment. But know this, the path to my defeat is one of sacrifice and great peril."

As the creature readied itself for another assault, Spike picked himself up, determination etched on his face. He knew the battle was far from over, but within the creature's cryptic words lay the key to their survival.

In a burst of resolve, Spike dashed towards the towering behemoth, his feet barely touching the ground. With a roar of determination, he grappled the creature's arms, his muscles straining under the immense pressure. The creature, caught off guard by Spike's audacity, unleashed a dark miasma from its very essence. The vile substance dripped onto Spike's skin, sizzling upon contact and searing his flesh. Spike's screams echoed through the cavern, a testament to his agonizing pain.

"You cling to a fool's hope," the beast sneered, its voice a chilling mix of contempt and malice. "Your efforts are as futile as your existence."

But it was then, amidst the searing pain and encroaching darkness, that the creature's taunt ignited a fire within Spike, deeper and more potent than any physical flame. His eyes blazed with an unearthly light, one green, the other a piercing red, a visual manifestation of his burgeoning rage and newfound power.

"I am no one's victim!" Spike bellowed back, his voice resonating with an unbreakable will. The green fire within him erupted, engulfing both him and the beast in an explosion of emerald flames.

When the dust settled, silence reigned. Spike stood alone, panting heavily, his clothes singed but his spirit unbroken. The beast, now vanquished, was nowhere to be seen. Yet, its voice, now a mere whisper carried by the wind, lingered with a warning: "Beware, Demi-God... Your power... it's a double-edged sword... it can save... or it can destroy..."

Spike, still recovering from the ordeal, processed the creature's final words. A sense of unease settled over him as he contemplated the true extent of his abilities and the potential consequences of wielding such power. Despite the victory, the whisper served as a stark reminder of the precarious path he treaded—a path where the line between protector and destroyer could easily blur.

As he regrouped with Sunset and the others, his mind was awash with thoughts of the future and the challenges it would bring.

As Spike rejoined his companions, Sunset immediately launched into a tirade, chastising him for his recklessness. "You can't just go headfirst into danger like that, Spike!" she exclaimed, her concern manifesting as frustration.

Spike, still reeling from the aftereffects of the battle, retorted, "I did what I had to do. We didn't have a choice."

Their back-and-forth escalated, the tension palpable, until Flash intervened. "Enough, both of you," he said firmly, directing their attention to the teleportation circle that had materialized in the aftermath of the battle. "We need to get out of here, now."

As the group approached the circle, weary yet relieved, they were instantly whisked away to the cave's entrance. The air outside was filled with the sound of cheers and applause from the waiting adventurers and rescue teams, a stark contrast to the darkness they had just escaped.

But the celebration was cut short when Spike suddenly doubled over, a harsh cough wracking his body. To the horror of those around him, blood spilled from his lips, a deep, crimson stain against the cave's entrance. Concerned murmurs rippled through the crowd as Spike's legs gave way, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Panic ensued as everyone rushed to his side, calls for medics piercing the air. Flash and Sunset were at the forefront, their earlier argument forgotten in the face of Spike's dire condition. Sunset's expression was a mix of fear and guilt, her earlier words to Spike now haunting her as she realized the extent of his sacrifice.

As medics scrambled to stabilize Spike, the onlookers could only watch in silent anticipation, the atmosphere thick with worry. Applejack, having pushed her way through the crowd, knelt beside Spike, her hand finding his in a silent plea for him to wake up.
> G.U.C.C. Ch 16 The way that you were
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spike opened his eyes, and was met with pure and total darkness, no sound, no smell, no movement registered around him.

At the far end of the, wherever he was, he saw a beam of light shooting upward, and for some reason, he felt drawn to it, even though he knew what that light represented.

As Spike floated through the void, the sensation of weightlessness enveloped him completely. It was neither warm nor cold, just an expansive darkness that seemed to stretch infinitely in every direction. Yet, the distant light beckoned him, a beacon cutting through the oblivion.

As he drifted closer, whispers began to swirl around him, ephemeral and elusive. Some voices were warm and welcoming, others solemn and foreboding. Each carried a message, an echo of wisdom or a shroud of warning.

"Brave soul, you tread where few dare," a soft, feminine voice caressed his consciousness, its tone filled with admiration.

"Power is a double-edged sword, wield it with care," intoned a deep, resonant male voice, echoing around him like a bell.

"The path you carve will echo through the ages," murmured another, the words intertwining with the others in a symphony of unseen presences.

As he approached the source of light, the voices grew louder, more insistent. "In turning Divine, we tangle endlessly," a chorus of voices whispered together, the phrase repeating like a mantra, resonating with a significance that Spike could feel deep in his soul.

"Remember, every choice casts a shadow," warned a voice that sounded ancient and weary.

"You are not alone in this journey, yet the burden is yours alone to bear," a gentle voice offered, both comforting and daunting.

And then, just as the brilliance of the light seemed almost within reach, enveloping him in its radiant warmth, everything abruptly faded into darkness once more. The voices, the light, the fleeting sense of motion—all vanished, leaving Spike enveloped in a profound silence that seemed to press against his very essence.

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP

Spike's eyelids fluttered open, the incessant beeping beside him piercing the dense fog of unconsciousness that had enveloped him. As his vision cleared, the sterile white of a hospital room came into focus. Tubes and wires snaked from his body to various machines, monitoring his vitals.

A doctor, clad in blue scrubs, noticed his awakening and approached with a chart in hand, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Welcome back to the land of the living," she said cheerfully.

Spike tried to speak, but his throat was dry, his voice a mere rasp. "What... happened?" he managed to croak.

The doctor's smile faded slightly as she reviewed her notes before addressing his question. "You've been through quite an ordeal," she began, her tone serious. "You suffered severe internal injuries during your fight, including internal bleeding. Moreover, you came into contact with a toxic black miasma. It's a miracle you're still with us."

She paused, allowing the gravity of the situation to sink in for Spike. "The substance corroded parts of your arms and legs. It's only thanks to the Phoenix tears present in your system that we didn’t have to amputate. However, the damage was significant. You'll need extensive rehabilitation to learn how to walk and run again."

Spike absorbed this information, a sense of disbelief washing over him. "How long... have I been here?" he asked, his voice stronger but still laced with fatigue.

"Two months," the doctor replied, checking the readings on a nearby monitor. "You flatlined three times. This last time, we nearly lost you for good. It gave everyone quite the scare, especially your fiancée."

As she spoke, the doctor continued her examination, adjusting a drip here, checking a monitor there, her movements practiced and efficient. "We'll start your physical therapy as soon as you're stable enough to move. For now, rest is your best friend. You've been given a second chance, Mr. Drake. Let's not waste it."

Spike lay back, the weight of the doctor's words pressing down on him. He was alive, by some miracle, but the road to recovery would be long and fraught with challenges. As the reality of his situation settled in, a mix of gratitude for his survival and determination to regain his strength filled him.

HOURS LATER

Spike stirred from his slumber, a sensation of being watched prickling at the edge of his consciousness. He opened his eyes to a peculiar sight—Fluttershy was leaning over him, dressed in what could only be described as a "sexy nurse" costume, complete with a short white apron and a cap perched jauntily on her head. Her breathing was heavy, filled with a mix of concern and something else that Spike couldn't quite place.

“Shy?” he croaked

As soon as she noticed his eyes fluttering open, Fluttershy's expression transformed into one of immense relief. She threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder as she began to sob quietly. Confused but instinctively understanding the need for comfort, Spike wrapped his arms around her, letting her draw solace from his presence.

“What’s with the…” Spike started

Before Spike could inquire about her choice of attire, Fluttershy pulled back slightly, looked into his eyes, and pressed her lips to his in a passionate, unexpected kiss. Spike's eyes widened in shock, his mind racing to process the sudden turn of events.

The moment was shattered by the sound of the door swinging open. Applejack stepped into the room, her eyes widening as she caught Fluttershy and Spike in their intimate embrace. Spike's heart leaped into his throat.

“AJ!... we’re not… she was… we didn’t…” he fumbled for words, trying to explain, but before he could get a sentence out, Applejack approached the bed. Instead of anger or jealousy, her eyes were filled with tears as she leaned down and kissed Spike tenderly.

When they finally broke apart, Applejack wiped away her tears and smiled softly at Spike. "I've been doin' some thinkin'," she began, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling in her eyes. "It's silly to think you'd only ever be with one person, given everything you're capable of. And after talkin' it over with my folks and the girls, I've decided I shouldn’t monopolize you."

Spike stared at her, a myriad of emotions crossing his face as he tried to articulate a response. Finally, he managed, "I... that... actually makes a lot of sense."

His brow furrowed slightly as a thought struck him. "Wait, what do you mean by 'girls'?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Applejack placed a finger on his lips, silencing him with a playful shush. "Let’s worry about that later," she whispered, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Right now, who’s ready for a bath?"

Before Spike could react, he noticed Fluttershy quietly locking the door, a similar grin spreading across her face. The situation, bizarre yet strangely right, settled around him like a warm blanket. As he looked between the two women, any remaining questions melted away, replaced by an acceptance of this new, unexpected turn in his life.

ONE MONTH LATER.

A month had passed since Spike's “resurrection”, and while his rehabilitation was progressing, the road to recovery was proving longer than expected. His movements were still restricted, his limbs weak. Writing, cooking, and even simple daily tasks were a challenge. Nevertheless, today marked a significant milestone—his discharge from the hospital.

As Spike entered the penthouse he shared with Applejack, he noticed a scattering of unfamiliar personal items around the space. His brow furrowed in confusion until Applejack, walking alongside him with Fluttershy, chimed in with a smile, "What? She's part of our family now, and you said it yourself, family stays together."

Together, the two women supported him towards the bedroom to rest. The room had been rearranged to accommodate his needs, with mobility aids and comfort items within easy reach.

As they helped him settle into bed, a silence hung in the air, filled with unspoken questions and anticipations about the future of their unconventional relationship. Spike, feeling a mix of gratitude and uncertainty, finally voiced his concerns. "I... I’m not even sure I’m the right person for this. Isn’t this... well, illegal?"

Applejack laughed softly, shaking her head with a fond exasperation. "Silly, harems and polygamy are legal here. More than that, they’re not uncommon in certain circles. We talked this through, remember? This isn’t just about following laws; it’s about what works for us."

Fluttershy, always the gentler of the two, took his hand reassuringly. "We want this, Spike. We want you, all of you, no matter the condition you're in. Don’t worry about the 'how' right now. Just focus on getting better. That’s all we want."

Spike looked from one to the other, their faces alight with sincerity and care. The warmth in their eyes did more for his heart than all the medicine in the world. It was a lot to take in, a radical shift from any lifestyle he'd imagined before, but in that moment, surrounded by their earnest affection, it felt right.

"Alright," he murmured, a tired yet genuine smile crossing his lips. "I guess my recovery's just got a lot more interesting."

Laughing together, the conversation lightened, turning to plans for the future—both immediate and long term. They discussed adjustments to the home to better accommodate Spike’s recovery, potential changes to their daily routines, and even the possibility of adding more members to their unconventional family in the future.

As the evening wore on, fatigue began to claim Spike, and the women tucked him in with gentle care. "Rest well," Fluttershy whispered, planting a soft kiss on his forehead. Applejack squeezed his hand, adding with a twinkle in her eye, "We've got a lot to look forward to."

With that, they left him to sleep, the echoes of their love and commitment lulling him into a peaceful, healing rest.

A week had passed since Spike was discharged from the hospital, and his new normal was slowly taking shape, albeit with some quirks. Every night, he found himself becoming an unwitting centerpiece in a cuddle sandwich, with Applejack and Fluttershy using him as a living body pillow. While the affection was something he cherished, he couldn't help but miss the freedom to sprawl out as he slept. It was a small complaint in the grand scheme of things, but one that amused him during his quieter moments.

During the day, the penthouse felt large and empty with Applejack and Fluttershy away at work or their various activities. Spike felt a pang of jealousy; he missed the thrill of adventure, the rush of exploring dungeons, and the satisfaction of overcoming physical challenges. He understood the necessity of recovery but couldn't suppress the longing to be active again.

Thankfully, his familiarity with the cheat console allowed him to accelerate his recovery—at least as far as his hands were concerned. This small victory meant he could indulge in playing video games, strumming on his guitar, or even preparing meals by himself, which brought a significant sense of independence back into his daily life.

However, mobility was still an issue, but that's where his friends Microchips and Cheese Sandwich stepped in. They visited daily, filling the quiet of the penthouse with their banter and supportive presence. Today was no exception.

"Alright, Spike, ready to tackle the stairs today?" Microchips called out as he entered the living room, a grin spreading across his face.

"You bet," Spike replied, setting aside his guitar and maneuvering his way off the couch with a determined look. Cheese Sandwich followed closely behind, ready to offer support if needed.

As they approached the staircase, Spike took a deep breath, focusing on the exercise ahead. The first few times had been tough, but each attempt saw him gaining more confidence and stability.

"You know, Spike, you're getting faster at this. Pretty soon, you'll be outrunning us," Cheese Sandwich joked, clapping Spike on the back as they reached the top of the stairs.

Spike laughed, the sound echoing slightly in the hallway. "I’ll hold you to that race, Cheese. Just let me get my legs back under me first."

As they settled down in the upstairs lounge for a quick break, Microchips pulled out his tablet, flipping through some updates. "Hey, I’ve been tweaking your wheelchair for better control and comfort. You should try the new joystick settings later."

"That’s awesome, thanks, Micro," Spike said, genuinely appreciative. "I can’t tell you guys how much I appreciate all the help. Stuck up here all day, I’d probably go stir crazy without you two."

"Ah, it’s nothing," Microchips waved off the gratitude with a smile. "What are friends for, right? Plus, it gives us a good excuse to escape the lab and guild hall for a bit."

"Yeah, don't mention it," added Cheese Sandwich. "Besides, it’s not every day we get to hang out with a bona fide hero and music star. Makes for good bragging rights back at the guild."

Their laughter filled the room, easing some of the tension Spike felt about his slow recovery. These moments of friendship and support were what he cherished most during his rehabilitation.

After Microchips and Cheese Sandwich left the penthouse, Spike made his way towards his music studio, ready to lose himself in the rhythms and melodies that often served as his escape. He was about to pick up his guitar when a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Expecting it might be one of his friends who had forgotten something or perhaps Big Mac dropping by, he was surprised instead to see Norman standing at the doorway.

Norman, looking considerably healthier than the last time Spike had seen him in the hospital, greeted him with a small smile. "Hey, you're looking better," Spike remarked, moving aside to let Norman in.

"Thanks, I feel better too," Norman replied as he followed Spike into the living room. As they both settled onto the couch, Norman's expression turned serious. "That day you came to my hospital room... what did you do?" he asked pointedly.

Spike, caught off guard by the direct question, attempted to sidestep the inquiry with a change of topic, but Norman was persistent. "No, Spike, I need to know. When you entered my room, I was on my way out. Now, I'm practically back to normal. So, what did you do?"

Spike sighed, knowing he couldn't evade the truth any longer. "Some months ago, I became a demi-God," he started, his voice low. "With it, I gained access to a sort of console that lets me alter certain aspects of reality. When I saw you that day, after what the doctor said... I remembered everything you did for me. So, I used my console to heal you."

Norman's eyes widened in shock. "But how?"

Spike looked away, uncomfortable with the confession that was about to come. "I didn’t have enough points to fully cure you on my own. So, I traded five years of my own life to make sure you'd get better."

"YOU DID WHAT?!" Norman shouted, his voice echoing in the small room. "Are you insane? Why would you do that for me?"

Spike met his gaze squarely. "Why not? You would've done the same if our places were reversed," he replied softly.

Norman was silent for a moment, processing the enormity of Spike’s sacrifice. Finally, he spoke, his voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and concern. "I've been training recently at a monastery in the Gargantua Mountain range. I learned there that I have the ability to restore health, even transfer life years to others... Since I'm technically immortal now, I can give those years back to you."

Spike shook his head, a faint smile on his face. "No, Norman, I made that choice. It’s done."

But Norman was resolute. "Spike, you gave me a gift I can never repay, but let me at least restore the years you lost because of me. It’s the least I can do."

Before Spike could protest further, Norman reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. A warm glow emanated from his palm, and Spike felt a rush of energy he hadn't realized he'd been missing. The sensation was over as quickly as it had begun.

"There," Norman said, his voice firm but gentle. "Consider it not a repayment, but a thank you."

Spike, overwhelmed by Norman’s insistence and kindness, simply nodded, accepting the gesture with a newfound appreciation for the mysterious and unexpected paths their lives had taken.

Spike listened intently as Norman recounted his concerns for Spike’s well-being, especially given the intense events at Jericho and the recent confrontation with the Diamond Dogs. Despite the weight of these stories, Spike managed a small smile. "Yeah, it's been pretty crazy. But I’ve found some ways to cope. Music’s been a big part of that."

"Music?" Norman raised an eyebrow, a mix of curiosity and surprise in his tone. "I heard about Wyrm Sovereign. That's you, isn't it?"

Spike nodded, a hint of pride in his smile. "Yeah, that’s me. It started off just as something to distract myself, but it turned into something... more. Helps me clear my head."

Norman's interest seemed piqued as he glanced around the penthouse until his eyes settled on the music studio. "Mind if we take a look?" he asked, and Spike led the way.

As they entered the studio, Norman walked straight to the drum kit, examining it with an expert eye. "DW Performance Series, nice choice. I used to play back in high school, but it’s been a while," he commented, running his fingers over the smooth surface of a drum.

"Want to give it a try?" Spike offered, gesturing towards the stool.

Norman hesitated for just a moment before shrugging and taking a seat. "Sure, why not? Just a heads up, I'm pretty rusty."

As Norman started a simple beat, Spike discreetly accessed his console, adjusting Norman's skill level from 5 to 10. The change was subtle at first, but as Norman got into the rhythm, his movements became more confident and fluid, his beats more complex and vibrant.

Suddenly, Norman paused, rubbing his temples. "Whoa, that was... weird. Felt like a rush of wind through my head."

"Sorry about that," Spike confessed with a sheepish grin. "Gave you a little skill boost there. It's reversible if it’s too much."

Norman laughed, shaking his head. "No, it's alright. That was incredible, actually. Feels good to play like that again."

Spike leaned against the wall, watching Norman with a content expression. "You know, you're welcome to come over and jam anytime. I’m not going anywhere for a while, and it'd be great to have some company."

Norman nodded, tapping his drumstick against the snare. "I might take you up on that. This place has a good vibe, and it’s a nice break from the monastery and all that intense training."

Their conversation drifted to lighter topics—music preferences, favorite bands, and the local music scene. It was comforting for Spike to talk about something so normal, so far removed from the dangers and responsibilities of his demi-god life.

As Norman played a few more beats, filling the studio with rhythmic sounds, Spike felt a genuine sense of peace. It was moments like these—simple, unburdened by the weight of destiny or duty—that reminded him of the value of friendship and the healing power of sharing one’s passions.

Spike watched as Norman disappeared down the hallway, the echoes of their laughter still resonating in the air. He felt a rare sense of lightness—a brief reprieve from his usual burdens. He turned back into the penthouse, his thoughts drifting to Applejack and her message about the festival and wedding preparations. He couldn’t help but smile at the image of Granny Smith and Pear Butter possibly turning the farm upside down with their excitement.

His phone buzzed again, but before he could check it, the door swung open. Rainbow Dash stood there, supporting a visibly shaken Fluttershy. Spike's smile faded instantly, replaced by concern.

“Hey, Rainbow. What's going on? Is Fluttershy okay?” he asked as they moved together to gently lay Fluttershy on the sofa.

Rainbow Dash sighed, brushing back a strand of her vividly colored hair. "Yeah, she's not hurt, physically. We were in this old dungeon, doing some scouting and setup for future guild training sessions. Fluttershy went off to do her thing with the plants and bugs, you know, but then she vanished. Took me forever to find her, and when I did, she was just... like this," she explained, motioning to Fluttershy's trembling form.

After making sure Fluttershy was comfortable, Rainbow gave Spike a concerned look. “I think she might need you more than the medics right now. I gotta fly, but call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Thanks, Rainbow. I appreciate it,” Spike replied, giving her a grateful nod as she hurried out.

Turning his attention back to Fluttershy, Spike sat down beside her, offering a gentle, reassuring presence. "Hey, Fluttershy, it's just you and me now. Can you tell me what happened in there?" he asked softly.

Fluttershy took a few deep breaths, trying to steady her voice. “I... I was in the dungeon, looking at some of the native fungi near this old section... and I found a cell... it was like a scene right out of a horror movie. Chains, dark stains on the walls... and bones, Spike,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “It reminded me of... of that day in Nazareth. I tried to stay calm, but everything came rushing back, and I... I just couldn't breathe.”

Spike moved closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay, Fluttershy. You’re safe now, I promise. What you experienced sounds terrifying, and it's completely understandable why you'd be upset. Panic attacks can be really scary, but they don’t define you or your strength.”

Fluttershy leaned into his embrace, her tears starting to flow. “I thought I was over it, Spike. But being in that cell, seeing those reminders... it felt like I was back there, helpless all over again.”

“You’re incredibly brave, Fluttershy. Facing what you did, coming out here with us, continuing to adventure—it takes courage. And it’s alright to have moments like this; it doesn’t make you any less strong or capable,” Spike reassured her, his tone soft and understanding.

They sat in silence for a while, Spike just holding her, letting her cry it out. As the tremors began to subside, Spike spoke up again, “Whenever you’re feeling up to it, maybe talking to someone could help. A professional, I mean. And I’m always here, too.”

Fluttershy nodded, wiping her eyes. “Maybe you’re right. I think I would like to talk to someone. Thank you, Spike, for being here and for understanding.”

“Always, Fluttershy. You’re family, and we look out for each other,” Spike said, giving her a gentle squeeze. They remained there on the couch, the city sounds outside fading into the background, as they found solace in the quiet company of one another.

“Hey, I have an idea, why don’t we play some video games, I know you like them,” said Spike

“A-are you sure?” Fluttershy said

“Yeah, it’ll get your mind off of things,” Spike said as he limped over to the TV turning it on and getting the Playstation 5 on.

SOMETIME LATER

“GAME!”

Fluttershy squealed with laughter, tossing her arms skyward and drumming her bare feet against the carpet in delight. Beside her however, Spike just stared at the screen in dismay. Ten games to none. Ten. Ten games. No matter how many times he played it over in his head, there was no way to make it any less devastating. Little by little, session by session Fluttershy had been pulling ahead of him in skill ever since they picked up the latest smash bros game, and now she was an unstoppable force to his not only moveable, but highly breakable object. 

"Aww, don't look so sad. It's just a game. All about having fun, right?"

Spike chuckled as his new “girlfriend” flung her arms around his neck in an affectionate hug, leaning across the couch against him and planting a playful smooch upon his cheek. He shrugged and nodded.

"Yeah, I guess. I'm not pissed off or anything. It's just... I really, really suck compared to you."

Still cuddling up to him as she continued to giggle, Fluttershy grinned. 

"Wanna play again?"

Spike stared at the screen once more, where Fluttershy's character was still doing it’s victory pose while the other fighter clapped. He leaned his head fondly down over hers, using his greater height to his advantage but still with a playfully pathetic groan.

"I would, but I don't know if my ego could take it."

Still beaming from ear to ear, Fluttershy seemed to consider this for a few moments. She then set down the console's controller with a snap of her fingers and dragged her legs up onto the couch, shifting to one side so that she could face Spike more directly.

"Well, then how about a little competition."

He just lay back in his own section of the couch, staring at the woman sitting before him in her t-shirt and panties, beaming like she wasn't totally traumatized, despite the state she was delivered earlier by Rainbow Dash.

"You just kicked my ass sideways at a friendly game. So, to build my ego up... you want to make it competitive?"

Fluttershy shook her head, and before Spike could say another word she lay back upon the couch, stretching her legs out across his lap and arching her back as her hands dropped to her midsection. She hooked her thumbs around her panties, and then, with a flick of her wrists and a kick of her ankles, they were sailing across the living room off the apartment. 

Spike blushed slightly as he found himself suddenly looking at Fluttershy’s bare crotch, feeling his own immediately beginning to swell in response. Of course this was far from the first time he'd seen Fluttershy act this way, taking her hospital visit as a reference. Much as they might have become best friends above all else and in many ways protective and caring of one another like a brother and sister, they weren't above a little amorous activity when the moment took them. And... well, Spike still had trouble seeing Fluttershy in such a light. But still, Spike knew how pent up he was, and worse yet, he knew Fluttershy knew.

"Not like a proper competition. Just a fun one… if you win, you can have me and… if you lose… I’ll ride you until you impregnate me,”

Spike laughed at her remarks, trying his best to take her seductioning seriously, but the last words she said were the ones that kept playing in his head.

“Wait!... what was that last one?” Spike asked

Watching Fluttershy laying there, almost pleading was enough to make any man lose it instantly, but Spike, however, was still stuck in his moral dilemma… it was Fluttershy… a girl he saved from a horrible fate… is she really in love with me… or is she just suffering from Damsel-in-distress syndrome… and anyway, shouldn’t Applejack be the one to give birth first?

“You heard me, Spikybear…” Fluttershy said coily, making Spike turn red.

He nodded, and playfully pushed Fluttershy's legs off his lap as he began to set them up another one round game. However, her abrupt change in personally made Spike think about something.

Of course, he knew that Fluttershy had realized that he was letting her win, that’s why she was doing this strange bet, but, on the other hand, like he thought earlier, she also knew he was extremely pent up, since the last time he had any sort of release was over 3 months ago.

But indeed if ever he'd had an excuse to absolutely win a game, this was it. Getting some sweet release would’ve felt good, sure. But the way Fluttershy was acting… it didn’t sit entirely well with Spike, it was as if she was taking Rainbow Dash’s and Sunset Shimmer’s personalities.

Thus, as they began to fight once more, the battle was thoroughly anti-climactic in Spike's pursuit of making sure to defeat Fluttershy’s weird bet. He barely tried to contain his mastery of the video game, defeating Fluttershy in less that 20 minutes.

As she watched her character fly off on screen, Fluttershy turned to look at Spike in surprise Spike grinned at his companion.

"Well… you can eat me," she squeaked shyly

“Fluttershy, I don’t think…”

"That's not fair. You cheated."

Spike's eyes widened.

"I did not!"

Fluttershy giggled, but shrugged.

"I know. And really I don't even care that you cheated. I knew from the beginning that you were letting me win. Those other games... I could see that you were barely trying, and it was fun playing against you. But this time? It was easy. And it wasn't fun, because you wanted to win."

Spike smiled and look at Fluttershy’s eyes

"Good… I taught you a valuable lesson… this time it was in a video game, imagine if it were in a dungeon or on a mission… some monsters like to play with their prey, make them feel as if they’re winning for them to get overconfident"

Fluttershy smiled, the Spike she remembered from that day was back.

"No, I don't blame you. And I'm not mad or anything. But... if you want to get a reward? You only had to ask."

Spike laughed as a happy, giddy wail escaped Fluttershy's lips, and he laughed aloud as she too squealed in joyous mirth when his arms darted out, grabbed her legs and hoisted them skyward even as he plunged forward to claim his prize.

"OohhhhGod... oh, oohhh Spike, yes..."

With her own dampened fingers now suddenly having found their job snatched away from them, Fluttershy could only let them roam across her stomach beneath the fabric of her t-shirt before inevitably reaching down and beginning to stroke Spike’s hair now feasting upon her pussy. She gurgled and arched her back, whining loudly as with loud, aggressive slurps Spike lapped between her legs, thrashing his rough tongue between the outer lips of her pussy and attacking her clit with each and every lick he applied. 

Squirming upon the couch Fluttershy soon rendered herself wholly nude, peeling off her t-shirt and tossing it aside so that while one hand continued to caress Spike's hair the other could rise up and tend to the swollen peaks of her massive breasts. She bit her bottom lip rather hard as she felt the fingertips of Spike's hands digging into her thighs, spreading them wider and wider apart until she was shamelessly displaying her crotch for what felt like the whole world to see. But when he began to lick again, and now with her legs fully spread his every tongue-stroke was able to delve deeper and hit sweeter, more tender spots, she stopped nibbling, stopped holding back, and howled in joyous gratitude. 

Soon she wasn't just stroking his hair, she was holding Spike's face in place between her legs. But no matter how firmly she attempted to force him to eat her out though, the enthusiasm and passion he put into the actual act itself went far beyond obligation. He hadn't ever planned on doing just enough, on simply exciting and teasing Fluttershy... though teasing her was certainly a great deal of fun. His goal was simple. Get her so worked up that she couldn't handle it any more... and then without delay, without any further hesitation whatsoever, make her cum.

Make Fluttershy cum... and don't stop until she could no longer continue.

"Aahhhhaaa-aahhhhhGodyessss... fuck, d-don't stop!"

His hands left her thighs, no longer necessary to keep them spread lewdly apart, and instead he used his thumbs to peel apart the outer lips of Fluttershy's sweet honey pot. His face pressed between her trembling thighs and his tongue finally pushed inside of her pussy's depths, attacking the inner walls with long, rough strokes and delighting in the reaction every motion of his tongue provoked. Fluttershy had asked him, begged him not to stop, so he didn't. He kept on tonguing her depths, probing deep and striking at every sweet spot he'd learned from all the past occasions on which they'd played, and sure enough before long the hand holding his face to her crotch became two, then the hold became a grip, two hands clutching at fistfuls of his hair, forcing his mouth harder and harder into the slick, gushing pussy he was feasting upon. 

Spike growled happily, sloppily as he felt Fluttershy's whole body tense up. He braced himself, ready for what was to come, and a split-second before a frantic and savage shriek escaped Fluttershy's mouth a hot gush of copious juices began to erupt both into his mouth and out across his face in general where it rested pinned against the female's pussy. He felt his tongue being squeezed and compressed by the sudden and sharp convulsions of Fluttershy's walls as she climaxed, and drew back just enough to begin attacking her clit instead. He slurped at it, lashed it with his tongue, and then wrapped his lips tight around it and began to suckle. The heels of Fluttershy's bare feet drummed against the back of his body as a fresh wave of her juices burst out and soaked his mouth, dripping down liberally off his chin, and Fluttershy's screams redoubled in volatility as before the first had even ceased to wrack her body with its force, a second orgasm crashed over her.

"Spike! Aa-aahhh, ahhhhyess, please... p-please, fuck me!" 

Arching her back as she shuddered and whimpered and rode out that second passion fuelled peak, Fluttershy released his head and squeezed at her massive breasts while begging to Spike she could feel clamped between her thighs. Despite his rather restricted movement however he still managed to answer her several moments later, once he'd gulped down the latest mouthful of her fountaining excess of juices. He wrenched his head upward just enough to clear his nose from her rosy red and swollen clit, and as he delved no fewer than three fingers deep into her pussy, seeking out her g-spot with a passionate, soaking wet faced grin, he spoke back to her with teasing tenderness.

"Fuck you? But... the deal was I could have you. If you want me to fuck you... maybe we should play another game."

Fluttershy didn't answer at first. She was too busy thrashing and squirting, soaking the male's arm to matching quantities with his sodden face as she felt her g-spot being assaulted and her body toppling right back into a third successive bout of impossibly addictive orgasmic overload. The sounds of her screams and the wet slapping of Spike's fingers diving deep and hard into her over and over again echoed around the living room, and by the time her head had cleared enough to begin even thinking about forming coherent speech Spike was already straddling her, hovering over her body upon the now rather damp and heavily sex scented couch. She watched as he pulled off his t-shirt at last, and sank down over her with a heated snarl.

"N-no more games. Oh... oh God, Spikybear... just... please… Don't wait. Don't tease. Don't... j-just... just fuck me, Spike. Now."

Their faces rested eye to eye, nose to nose for a few moments. Fluttershy blushed and shivered in lewd excitement as she smelled something musky and rich upon Spike's breath, then realised it was her own liquid arousal of which she had caught the scent. He kissed her. Just briefly, but with force enough to render them both breathless by its conclusion. And then, before either one of them could recover enough from the doe-eyed delight of that passionate kiss, he pressed down against her, and began to push his as yet untended erection deep, deep inside the already hyper sensitive and pleasure stricken girl, taking her virginity.

"Ah. Ah!!" 

Fluttershy shrieked loudly, then louder still as Spike began to press inside of her. It was easy to forget when he was just lying between her legs, so devoted and eager to please, but he was way taller than her. Broader, thicker too. And while mostly that applied to the external character of his body, it most definitely applied to his cock as well. 

"S-so... ohh fuck, so big..."

She whined loudly, blushing at the foolish obviousness of the statement but unable to get the thought out of her mind even after she'd said it aloud.

"After this..."

He growled down at her, kissing Fluttershy on the lips once more with heated but still playful affection.

"...a-after we're done... wanna order pizza?"

Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth with another loud and lengthy whimper, and then... then she giggled. She nodded, and pecked up at him in another fond, friendly smooch.

"Yes please… just make sure…." she moaned

Spike's eyes twinkled teasingly.

"Half meat lover half veggie, I haven’t forgotten,” 

Fluttershy shrieked with laughter, but wrapped both her arms and legs tightly around Spike even as he simply mimed and faked getting up and pulling away from her. Before she could tell him he wasn't going anywhere though, he proved that he never had intended to. His playful smile turned to one of hunger. His twinkling eyes grew fiery and demanding. And even as Fluttershy's ankles hooked together behind his buttocks and the fingertips of her hands dug into his back, he drew his cock almost the entire way out of her aching, soaking wet pussy, and plunged it fiercely and rapidly back in. The first true thrust of this fuck, but so very far from the last.

Once they began to writhe and grind against each other, all thoughts of friendship and their almost sibling-like state as roommates fell away. All the playful jokes, all the teasing, all the familiarity was lost in all respects but one. The sheer, potent, primal intimacy of two lovers who didn't just know one another, but understood the needs of the person within whose arms they were wrapped. They began right there as they lay, Fluttershy squealing and moaning in pleasure over and over as Spike's heavy balls slapped against her buttocks while his cock drove feverishly within her. The more forceful Spike's thrusting grew though, the more carnal and wild the reaction of the woman beneath him. Her fingers were already dug into his flesh, but now they began to move. To scratch and scrape, drawing blood through the skin of his shoulders. In turn he moaned and bit down upon her neck, not piercing the skin himself but returning her violent passions in kind as he claimed her. 

They shifted positions more than once as they shuddered and bucked together, going from face to face into a more primal still doggystyle, Fluttershy's own hot cum running down her inner thighs and dripping down off Spike's balls as the change in angle led his cock to drive her ever more wild. She moaned and shrieked until there was no more air left in her lungs to fuel such sounds, and even then she thumped and clawed at the couch beneath her in an effort to find some way to express the extremes of stimulation surging through her in those moments. It was when Fluttershy found herself on top however that the fires of both lovers' bodies burned their hottest and brightest. She rode him as hard as her body would permit, then a little harder still. She ached, her pussy burned with how roughly she dragged herself up and then slammed herself down upon Spike's length, but as she came again, and again with the volatile force of his thick cock stimulating her to such wild excess, she only craved more.

She completely surrendered to Spike, her mind going blank, her only interest was satisfying the love of her life, and so was his, especially when he pinched her erect nipples or gave her a good spank, and drove themselves together to the point of no return. They crashed off the couch entirely and onto the floor close by, and it was there Spike took control once more, rolling Fluttershy onto her back, plunging himself to the hilt inside of her convulsing and once more squirting pussy, pinning her down by her shoulders with his own fingertips buried in her burning hot flesh. He snarled and tossed back his head, moaning to the heavens as he felt his balls swelling to its fullest. For minutes now every time she pulled away from him there had been a thick, slurping pop as his dick grew bigger, wider. But now there was no escape. They were “locked together”, and they would not separate again until not just Fluttershy, but both of them were fully spent. Fully drained.

"Cum in me!" 

Fluttershy begged, wailed pleadingly as she felt Spike's hips jerking feverishly fast against hers, making what little thrusts he could with their bodies so tightly entwined now.

"Yes. O-oh... yes... cum. Cum! Cum!" 

And with a frenzied moaning of release and ecstasy, Spike did as he was commanded. He poured his molten cum deep into Fluttershy's thrashing body as one more time she sprayed and gushed around him in turn, and for more than twenty long glorious seconds they were locked together in shared rapture. Shuddering, grunting, bucking, and clutching at one another so very tightly as they were both fuelled and drained to the extreme by their lover's final, deliriously satisfying release.

"Yes. Yesssss... e-every drop. Give me... every... oohhh..."

Fluttershy moaned and gasped as burst after burst of hot cum lashed over her inner walls, every bit as hot as her interior and yet somehow soothing in their copious application. Spike however didn't have the breath to respond with words. He barely had the energy to hold himself up over Fluttershy's shuddering body as the sensation of her pussy still milking his cock grew almost too intense and glorious to bear. And indeed, before long, it was too much. They fell still, limp, gasping and suddenly both overwhelmed by what they had shared. What they'd felt.

It only lasted briefly of course. A short, tender silence in which they just lay there holding one another, stunned by the force and passion of their physical outpourings. Before long though, Fluttershy giggled. She blushed and squirmed happily as she placed Spike’s dick between her massive breasts and stroke it, while giving it a few licks.

"S-so..."

Spike panted heavily, grinning at Fluttershy as she ran her fingers through his balls, blushing but smiling as she felt the places where she'd scraped him up during their rougher antics.

"So?"

Wiggling her eyebrows playfully, Fluttershy murmured back.

"Round 2, or order pizza first?"

Fluttershy blushed, and ever so gently tugged at their bodies' rather intimate connection. Both she and Spike yelped, and she giggled once more.

"That depends. How long do you think the pizza will be here?"

The two lovers grinned at each other, and without asking Spike rolled Fluttershy onto her back, pinning her down again briefly as he stretched from the couch to the coffee table close by in search of his phone.

"I dunno. Why don't we find out… tell you what, if I can make you cum at least 3 times before the pizza arrives, you pay."

Fluttershy squirmed beneath her lover as he began to dial their favourite local place, already knowing both his and Fluttershy's order by heart.

"A-and, if we're not?"

Spike opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, someone picked up on the other end of the line. 

“Tony’s pizzeria, can I take your order?” said Tony

He winked at Fluttershy, and forced his dick into her anus, forcing her to slap both hands over her mouth to contain a shriek of over-stimulated pleasure as he addressed the pizza shop.

"Hi there. I'd like to order a couple of pizzas for delivery."

After placing the order, Spike looked down at Fluttershy who was glaring at him.

“What? We made a bet,” Spike said

“I’m not angry about that…” Fluttershy said turning red

“Then?” asked Spike

“Why did you stop moving during the ordering?” she said

“Well…” Spike tried to come up with a good excuse that he had just forgotten to do it.

“Less talking… more humping!” Fluttershy said

“Yes Ma’am!” Spike said as he started to thrust harder, faster and deeper into Fluttershy’s asshole.

It wasn’t long before her eyes rolled back and she orgasmed.

“This is gonna be so easy,” Spike smirked as he picked up the pace, as the 2 lovers continued their amourose affair until the pizza arrived.
> G.U.C.C. Ch. 17 A new start
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two months had passed like a blur of monotonous routine for Spike. Each day melted into the next with an unrelenting schedule that felt both suffocating and numbing. Rehab, rest, university lectures via remote attendance, and then more rest. The sameness of it all was beginning to gnaw at him, a creeping dissatisfaction that grew with each passing day.

One afternoon, as Spike sat on the balcony of his penthouse, staring out at the cityscape that seemed to pulse with life and energy he could no longer participate in, Applejack joined him, carrying two cups of coffee. She handed one to him and took a seat beside him, her eyes full of concern.

"You've been quiet today, more than usual. Everything alright?" Applejack asked, her voice tinged with worry.

Spike sighed, taking a sip of the coffee before responding. "I'm just... tired, AJ. Tired of sitting around, tired of being so dependent on everyone for everything. I appreciate all you and the others have been doing for me, really, I do. But I hate feeling like a burden."

Applejack put her coffee down and took his hand. "Spike, you're not a burden, not to any of us. Healing takes time, and it's okay to need help. We're your family; we're here for you."

"I know, I know... it's just frustrating. I used to be able to do so much more. Now, getting through a day without needing help feels like a distant dream," Spike confessed, the edges of his frustration coloring his tone.

Applejack squeezed his hand gently. "I understand that, but you've got to give yourself grace, Spike. You've been through a lot. The doctors said your recovery would be a long road. You're making progress, even if it doesn't feel fast enough."

Spike looked over at her, her earnest expression softening his own. "Thanks, AJ. I just wish there was more I could do to speed things up."

"Well, the doc did say that keeping your mind active and engaged could help, right? Maybe it’s time we find something you can do from here, something that feels productive. Have you thought about taking up a new hobby or maybe expanding on your music? You could even start planning out new adventures for when you’re back on your feet," Applejack suggested, her voice bright with encouragement.

Spike considered her words, the idea slowly bringing a small smile to his face. "Yeah, maybe you're right. I could start working on some new tracks or even look into remote consulting for some of the younger adventurers at the guild. It’s not fieldwork, but it’s something."

"There you go!" Applejack cheered, her smile infectious. "And who knows, you might discover something you really love doing along the way."

"Yeah," Spike agreed, feeling a spark of optimism for the first time in weeks. "Thanks, AJ. For everything."

"Anytime, Spike. Anytime," she replied, giving his hand another reassuring squeeze.

As they sat together, the sun beginning to set and casting a warm glow over the city, Spike felt a renewed sense of purpose.

As Spike and Applejack were winding down their conversation, Fluttershy's voice floated out from the kitchen, calling them to dinner. Spike couldn't help but note the change in her demeanor these past weeks. Gone was the tremulous voice and hesitant steps, replaced now by a steady, almost motherly tone. It was a transformation that Spike found both remarkable and heartening.

"Come on, you two, dinner's ready!" Fluttershy announced, her voice carrying a cheerful tune that resonated warmly throughout the penthouse.

As they made their way to the dining table, Applejack couldn't resist teasing Fluttershy a little. "I gotta say, Shy, you've taken to this house matriarch role like a duck to water. What happened to our little nervous Nelly?"

Fluttershy, placing dishes on the table, shot back with a playful smirk, "Well, someone's gotta keep you all fed and happy, especially since some folks' cooking skills don't go much past apple pies and cider." She winked at Applejack, who laughed and raised her hands in mock surrender.

"Guilty as charged," Applejack conceded, grinning as they all took their seats at the table.

Over dinner, Spike decided to bring up his own plans, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness about the conversation. "So, I've been thinking a lot about what I can do while I’m still on the mend. I’ll talk to the guildmaster at Silver Moon, and I’ll suggest I could start working as an instructor or consultant, you know, helping to train the newer adventurers from a strategic standpoint."

Fluttershy paused, her fork halfway to her mouth, her expression shifting to one of concern. "Spike, that sounds wonderful, but are you sure you’re ready for something like that? I mean, your recovery is still ongoing, and I don’t want you to push yourself too hard."

Spike nodded, understanding her worry. "I know, Fluttershy, and I appreciate your concern. It's all going to be pretty low-key, though. Mostly desk work, maybe some light field supervision. Nothing that'll strain me physically."

Fluttershy seemed somewhat reassured but still a bit apprehensive. "Well, if you think it’s not too much, then I support you. I just want you to be happy, Spike, and healthy too."

"Thanks, Fluttershy. That means a lot to me. And trust me, I’m not about to do anything that might set me back. I’ve got too much riding on this recovery, especially with the wedding coming up and all," Spike said, shooting a smile towards Applejack, who nodded emphatically.

"Yeah, and don’t you forget, you're not just planning for any wedding. It's gonna be the wedding of the century if Granny Smith has her say," Applejack added with a chuckle, lightening the mood.

The conversation drifted then to lighter topics, the trio chatting and laughing as they finished their dinner. It was these moments, Spike reflected, that made the slow recovery bearable. The support and love of Applejack and Fluttershy, their teasing, their care—it was more healing than any medicine or therapy.






THE NEXT MORNING AT THE SILVER MOON GUILD

Spike leaned heavily on his cane as he and Sunset Shimmer entered the grand hall of the Silver Moon Guild. He paused at the entrance, taking a moment to catch his breath and appreciate Sunset's support. "Thanks for the ride, Sunset. I really appreciate it," he said with a genuine smile.

Sunset Shimmer, her cheeks tinged with a slight blush, waved off his thanks. "It's no big deal, Spike. I wanted to see how you'd handle your first day back anyway," she replied, her tone trying to sound casual but failing to hide her concern.

As they approached the Guild Master's office, Spike straightened up, preparing himself for the conversation ahead. He knocked on the door, and they were soon greeted by the Guild Master, a stern-looking man with a gaze that seemed to weigh Spike’s condition from the moment he entered.

"Guild Master, I've been thinking about my role here while I recover, and I think it would be best for me to become an instructor for the next generation members," Spike began, laying out his plan to supervise training sessions from the sidelines.

“WHAT?!!!” the guild master said as he spit out his coffee

“Is it that bad of an idea?” Sunset Shimmer said confused 

The Guild Master's face clouded with concern. "Spike, you're still recovering from a severe case of Black Miasma poisoning. It’s not just about physical exertion; your presence in the training arena could still be risky. You need to focus on your recovery."

Spike nodded, expecting this resistance, but he was prepared to reassure him. "I understand the risks, but I won’t be engaging directly. I'll be there more as a strategic advisor, ensuring everything runs smoothly and safely."

Before the Guild Master could respond, a powerful, authoritative voice filled the room. "What seems to be the problem here?" They all turned to see Princess Luna stride into the room, her presence commanding immediate respect.

The Guild Master instantly dropped to one knee, bowing his head. "Welcome, Grand Master," he intoned with deep reverence.

Sunset Shimmer looked between Spike and the kneeling Guild Master, her confusion evident. Spike leaned closer and whispered, "Princess Luna founded this guild. She’s not just royalty; she’s respected here as the Grand Master of Silver Moon."

Princess Luna smiled, acknowledging Spike's explanation. "Indeed, this guild was founded with a specific focus on nurturing Dungeon Crawlers, capable of tackling the most challenging environments," she elaborated, her voice resonating with a passion for adventure and discovery.

Turning to the Guild Master, she continued, "If Spike believes he can contribute without jeopardizing his health, I think we should support him. The guild thrives on the strength and wisdom of all its members, not just those who can wield a sword."

The Guild Master stood slowly, still unsure but not willing to argue with Luna. "If that is your wish, Grand Master."

Sunset watched the exchange, her admiration for Spike's resilience mingling with her concern. She found herself stepping a little closer to him, her actions protective yet subtle.

"Thank you, Princess Luna," Spike said, relief evident in his voice. He turned to Sunset with a grateful smile. "Looks like I’m back, at least in some capacity."

Sunset nodded, her expression softening. "Just don’t overdo it, okay? We need you in one piece," she said, the concern clear in her voice despite her attempt to sound teasing.

As Princess Luna discussed some new strategies with the Guild Master, Spike and Sunset Shimmer made their way to the observation deck of the training arena, ready to start a new chapter in Spike's path to recovery.

Spike limped down the stairs toward the arena gates, his cane echoing against the stone with each step. Gathering his resolve, he pushed open the massive doors with a theatrical flourish, rehearsing his planned introduction in his mind. Stepping into the arena, he announced himself with confidence.

"Good morning, future Dungeon Crawlers of Silver Moon! I'm Spike, your guide and mentor on this challenging journey!"

The arena, however, was eerily silent. No eager faces turned towards him, no murmurs of anticipation—just the empty echo of his own voice. Confused, Spike scanned the room until his eyes landed on Wyatt, the retired Dungeon Crawler now serving as the guild’s custodian, who was chuckling as he repaired one of the bleachers.

"Nice intro, kid," Wyatt called out, amusement clear in his voice. "However, I recommend you get some whippersnappers to use it on."

Spike rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Sorry, Wyatt," he muttered.

Wyatt waved off the apology with a smile. "No harm done. Just the wrong timing, I suppose."

As Spike mulled over the empty arena, Princess Luna and Sunset Shimmer approached from the entrance. Luna’s presence always brought a certain gravitas, and her next words explained the situation further. "This is why I wasn’t so worried about Spike’s new role," she said, observing the empty stands. "Unlike the Royal Guild, which swarms with new members, our Silver Moon Guild prides itself on exclusivity. We have just over a hundred members, and that’s by design."

Sunset Shimmer looked around, her expression one of realization. Luna continued, "Our focus is on Dungeon crawling, a far more demanding and dangerous field than the typical land adventures most guilds pursue. Hence, we don’t attract the masses, and those who do show interest often opt for the more glamorous Royal Guild or the affluent Kingsheart, assuming they can afford the latter."

With a nod of understanding to Spike and a final wish of good luck, Luna excused herself, leaving the arena with her usual composed stride.

Feeling slightly deflated but determined not to show it, Spike turned to Sunset, who offered him a sympathetic smile. "Let’s check in with Marion at reception. Maybe there’s a delay in today’s schedule," she suggested.

Together, they walked back to the guild’s bustling front desk where Marion was busy organizing paperwork. Upon seeing them, she brightened, though her expression turned apologetic as she addressed Spike’s question about new applications.

"Ah, Spike, it’s been quiet on that front. Not a single application since you last checked," she said, shuffling through her papers to confirm. "Well, our reputation as the 'Toughest Guild to get into' precedes us."

Spike sighed, the reality of the situation settling in. He thanked Marion and turned back to Sunset, a thoughtful frown knitting his brows. "Looks like it’s going to be a slow start, but we’ll make the most of it. Maybe it’s time to rethink our recruitment strategy, make it more... appealing, without compromising our standards."

Sunset nodded in agreement. "I think that’s a great idea. Let’s brainstorm some strategies. Perhaps we can hold some open seminars or workshops to draw interest."

A month of effort at revitalizing the Silver Moon Guild through seminars and combat classes had yielded minimal results for Spike. Despite his enthusiasm and dedication, the turnout was dishearteningly low, with most attendees drifting off to the more glamorous Royal Guild after taking advantage of the free classes. So far, his recruitment efforts had managed to bring in only two new guild members: Norman, who had joined more out of friendship and moral support than a genuine interest in dungeon crawling, and Joe, a brawny but exceedingly clumsy friend of Big Mac's from the farm. The Guild Master had allowed Joe's membership primarily because of Spike's confident promise to transform him into a top ranker.

Feeling his morale dip as the reality of the challenge set in, Spike found himself frequently ruminating on the lackluster response. Norman noticed Spike's growing despondency and decided it was time to intervene. Gathering Microchips, Cheese Sandwich, Flash, and Sunset Shimmer, he initiated a brainstorming session in the guild hall, aiming to concoct a plan that might ignite more interest in the guild.

The group threw around various ideas, ranging from advertising campaigns to partnership deals with local businesses, but nothing seemed to stick. Frustration was beginning to mount when Norman’s gaze drifted across the room to the music studio. An idea sparked in his mind.

“Spike, why not use your music? You could write some songs to inspire people about dungeon crawling. Music’s got a way of reaching people that words sometimes can’t,” Norman suggested, his voice filled with a cautious optimism.

Spike mulled over the idea, his interest piqued yet uncertain. “I like the sound of that, but what would I even sing about? How do you put the life of a dungeon crawler into a song that grabs people?”

Flash chimed in, leaning forward with a look of inspiration. “Why not draw from your own experiences? You’ve been through more dungeons than most of us can claim, and each one tells a story. Those stories could show the adventure and danger, the thrill of discovery. That’s what people get excited about, right?”

Sunset Shimmer nodded in agreement. “It’s true. The Royal Guild has commissioned artists before to create anthems that glamorize their adventures. It’s a big hit. Maybe your personal touch, your genuine experiences, could offer something more authentic that people will really resonate with.”

The idea seemed to resonate with everyone in the room, and the energy shifted from frustration to a buzz of creative potential. Spike felt a surge of motivation as he considered the possibility of merging his musical talents with his dungeon crawling experiences.

“Maybe you’re onto something,” Spike admitted, warming up to the idea. “Songs that capture the real essence of what we do—unlike those glossy anthems from the Royal Guild. It could be about the gritty reality, the comradeship, the risks, and the victories. Real stories that could make real connections.”

Encouraged by the support of his friends and the new creative avenue, Spike glanced towards his studio, a renewed spark of purpose lighting his eyes. The idea of using his music to champion the guild’s cause, to draw new members and share the true spirit of dungeon crawling, offered a new challenge, and perhaps, a new hope.

“Let’s give it a shot,” he declared, his voice steady with newfound determination. As his friends voiced their agreement and encouragement, Spike walked towards his studio, his mind already racing with lyrics and melodies that might just turn the tide for the Silver Moon Guild.

With that hopeful note, the group dispersed, leaving Spike to his devices, the studio door closing behind him with a soft click, sealing him in with his thoughts and the blank slate of creation spread out before him.






ONE MONTH LATER

Spike settled into the well-worn leather chair opposite the Guild Master’s imposing desk, his face a mix of anticipation and unease. The office was quiet, save for the ticking of the ancient clock that adorned the wall, a reminder of the passing time and the slow, sometimes painful, progression of recovery.

“Spike, I’m truly pleased to see you’ve fully recovered physically,” the Guild Master began, his voice deep and encouraging. “However, as per the protocol of our guild, I can’t clear you for dungeon crawling just yet. You need to prove that your skills and reaction times are back to what they were. But,” he added, seeing a flicker of disappointment cross Spike’s face, “I’m authorizing you to take on normal quests. It’s a good way to ease back into the field.”

Spike nodded, understanding the prudence behind the decision, though he couldn’t mask a slight frown. “I appreciate that, sir. And about the training—I still think it’s worth pursuing. We might not have many takers now, but it’s about building a foundation, isn't it? For the future?”

The Guild Master sighed, leaning back in his chair with a thoughtful expression. “Spike, I admire your persistence. Truly, I do. But our resources are limited, and without a steady influx of new members, focusing on such an expansive training program might not be the best use of our resources.”

Before Spike could respond, he turned on the TV with the remote from his desk, intending to lighten the mood with some distraction. However, what came on the screen was anything but a distraction. The news anchor was enthusiastically discussing the music phenomenon that was Wyrm Sovereign, the mysterious band that had recently released three new songs: "Calcutta," "Nazareth," and "Jericho."







"These new tracks from Wyrm Sovereign have captured the imagination of the public," the anchor was saying. "Each song draws inspiration from the notoriously dangerous dungeons known by the same names, dungeons that have been the settings of incredible tales of adventure and survival."

The screen flashed to scenes of fans discussing the songs, with many speculating about the identities of the band members, whose anonymity only added to the allure.

“See, this is what I’m talking about,” Spike pointed at the screen, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and vindication. “These songs, my songs, they’re creating interest in the very essence of dungeon crawling. It’s storytelling, it’s inspiring. It could drive interest towards the Silver Moon Guild.”

The Guild Master watched the screen for a moment, then turned back to Spike, his eyes showing a hint of admiration. “You have a point, Spike. Perhaps there’s merit in your approach after all. Let’s give it another month. Continue with the training program, and let’s see if this surge in interest translates into recruitment.”

Spike’s eyes lit up with renewed determination. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”

As the Guild Master nodded, Spike stood up, ready to leave the office and get back to work. Just before he stepped out, the Guild Master added, “And Spike? Be careful with those normal quests. They may not be dungeon crawls, but they’re not without their risks.”

“Understood,” Spike replied, a smile playing on his lips. He had a lot to do, and for the first time in many months, he felt fully ready to take on the world again.

Spike stepped briskly down the corridor from the Guild Master's office, his spirits lifted by the permission to start taking on quests again. As he approached the main hall, he spotted Norman leaning against a wall, looking slightly apprehensive.

“Hey, Norman, how’s it going?” Spike greeted him with a small wave.

Norman straightened up, a look of curiosity on his face. “Got the green light, huh? But not for the deep dives yet?”

“Yeah, just the surface stuff for now. But it's a start,” Spike replied, his tone mixed with resignation and excitement.

Norman’s brow furrowed slightly as he accompanied Spike towards the Arena. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about those songs you released. Aren’t you worried about exposing too much... you know, personal stuff and all?”

Spike shrugged, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “At first, maybe. But honestly, I’ve made peace with it. Those songs are part of my journey, you know? And thanks for the nudge to get them out there.”

They reached the Arena, and as they entered, a burst of youthful energy met them. Six eager young hopefuls were gathered around, chatting animatedly.

“Applebloom?” Spike’s voice was tinged with surprise as he recognized his soon-to-be sister-in-law, who sprinted over with a beaming smile.

“Hi, Spike!” Applebloom chirped, followed closely by her friends—Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, Rumble, Button Mash, and a surprisingly energetic Pipsqueak. Each one introduced themselves with genuine excitement.

“Hi, my name is Susan Belle White, but you can call Sweetie Belle… thanks for saving my sister,” 

“Name’s Skylar Lowell, call me Scootaloo,”

“Robert Humbolt, everyone calls me Rumble,” 

“Brandon Barrett, Button Mash is my nickname,”

“Peter Quinn,”

“Pipsqueak,” said Spike

“Don’t call me that, please!” Pipsqueak said

“Then grow a couple of inches,” Spike said earning a laugh from everyone, even Pipsqueak

Spike, still a bit taken aback, turned to Norman, “Did you know about this?”

Norman shook his head, grinning. “News to me, too. Seems you’ve inspired a whole new generation.”

As the young hopefuls gathered around, Spike pulled out his phone to call Applejack. The conversation was quick but filled with confused exchanges from both ends. “Applejack, did you know about this?”

Applejack’s voice was equally puzzled. “Not a clue, Spike. I’m on my way.”

Minutes later, Applejack burst through the doors of the Arena, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. Apple Bloom stepped forward confidently, her friends rallying behind her.

“Dad said it’s okay, and Granny Smith too. She said, ‘If Spike’s there, then we have nothing to fear.’” Apple Bloom’s declaration brought a warm smile to Spike’s face, even as he glanced over at Applejack, who seemed to be processing the information.

“Well, if Granny Smith says it’s okay…” Applejack finally conceded, though her tone suggested she would have a long talk with Granny later.

Turning back to the group, Spike clapped his hands together, energized by the turn of events. “Alright, if you all are serious about this, we start first thing tomorrow morning. Get ready to train hard and learn fast. Welcome to Silver Moon Guild!”

The cheers that erupted filled the room with laughter and chatter about the future. As the group dispersed to prepare for the next day, Norman leaned over to Spike.

“Looks like your training program’s going to be a lot busier than we thought,” he joked, patting Spike on the back.

Spike laughed, the weight of his earlier concerns momentarily lifted by the enthusiasm and trust these young adventurers showed.

Spike stood in the center of the Silver Moon Guild's training arena, surrounded by the six eager young hopefuls. The morning light spilled through the large windows, casting long shadows across the mats and equipment scattered around the room. Spike clapped his hands together to grab everyone's attention.

"Alright, everyone, gather around," Spike called out, his voice carrying a note of excitement. The group quickly huddled around him, their faces a mix of enthusiasm and nerves.

"First off, welcome to Silver Moon Guild," Spike began, his gaze sweeping over the faces of Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, Rumble, Button Mash, and Pipsqueak. "Training here isn't going to be easy. It’s designed to push you to your limits and beyond. But I promise you, it’ll be worth it."

He led them over to a series of ropes and bars set up for agility training. "We'll start with the basics—agility and strength. This here is the obstacle course, designed to improve your reflexes and physical coordination. You’ll be climbing, jumping, and swinging. It's tough, but it'll help build the quick thinking you need in a dungeon."

One by one, the hopefuls took on the course. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo showed natural athleticism, swinging and jumping with a kind of rough grace. Sweetie Belle was more cautious but precise, taking her time to understand each step before moving. Rumble and Button Mash, while a bit clumsy, pushed through with determination, and Pipsqueak, despite being the smallest, displayed a surprising amount of resilience.

After the obstacle course, Spike introduced them to combat training. "Next up, we've got combat drills. This isn't just about swinging a sword or casting a spell; it's about understanding your opponent, anticipating their moves, and reacting under pressure."

Spike demonstrated a series of basic combat moves, breaking them down into steps. He paired up the trainees, supervising as they practiced. The sound of wooden swords clacking and occasional bursts of laughter filled the air.

"As you train," Spike continued, "you'll learn not just about fighting, but about trust—trusting your gear, your skills, and most importantly, each other."

As noon approached, Spike brought out a set of weighted vests. "These are for strength and endurance training. You’ll wear these for the next part of our session—ladder drills and sprints. It’ll help build your stamina, which is essential for long dungeon crawls."

The group groaned slightly at the sight of the vests but donned them with determination. Spike led them through a series of sprints and ladder drills, encouraging them as they worked through the exhaustion.

"Push through it! You're doing great!" Spike cheered, pacing alongside them as they ran. Despite his own injuries and ongoing recovery, he moved with a careful energy, always keeping an eye on his trainees.

By the end of the session, the group was visibly tired but buzzing with adrenaline. Spike gathered them again for a cool-down routine, focusing on stretching and mindfulness.

"Remember, recovery is just as important as the training itself," he instructed. "Take these moments to breathe and reflect on what you've learned today."

As they stretched, Spike walked among them, offering adjustments and words of encouragement. His phone buzzed with a reminder for his next appointment, but he was too engrossed in his role as a trainer to notice.

Finally, as the session concluded, Spike looked over his new recruits, a proud smile tugging at his lips. "Great work today, everyone. I'll see you all tomorrow, same time. Rest up, and be ready to go again. You're on the path to becoming true adventurers."

The hopefuls dispersed, chattering excitedly about the day’s challenges and their progress. Spike watched them go, a sense of fulfillment warming him despite the aches of his own body.

As the evening shadows lengthened across the training arena floor, Spike and Applejack worked together to stow away the last of the equipment. They moved with an easy rhythm, comfortable in each other’s company after the long day of training.

"So, what do you think of our new recruits?" Spike asked, securing a stack of mats against the wall.

Applejack wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, her face lighting up with pride. "I think they’re a promising bunch. Apple Bloom’s really taking to this, and her friends are catchin’ up quick too. You’re doing a great job with them, Spike."

"Thanks, AJ. It's good to be back doing something productive, even if it's not full dungeon crawling. I just hope I can give them what they need to succeed," Spike replied, glancing around the now tidy arena.

Just as they were about to leave, the sound of the door creaking open echoed through the quiet room. They turned to see a young girl, no older than Apple Bloom, entering the arena. She was dressed in finely tailored clothes and wore a diamond tiara that glittered even in the dim light of the arena.

Spike and Applejack exchanged a puzzled look before approaching the girl. "Hello there, can we help you?" Spike asked, his tone friendly yet cautious.

The girl stopped a few feet away from them, her eyes locked on Spike. "Are you the adventurer everyone talks about? The one who’s been through the dungeons they sing songs about?" Her voice was soft but carried an underlying tension.

"Yes, I am. And who might you be?" Spike replied, trying to place her face.

"My name is Diamond Tiara. I... I have a request," she said, her eyes flickering with a mix of fear and determination. She took a deep breath before continuing, "Please… help me... kill my father."

The request hung in the air, heavy and shocking. Applejack’s jaw dropped, and she stepped forward, placing a protective arm around Spike. "Now, hold on just a minute, young lady. That’s no small thing you’re askin’. Why in Equestria would you say somethin’ like that?"

Diamond Tiara’s hands clenched at her sides. "I know it sounds terrible, but you don’t understand. My father, he’s... he’s a monster. Not literally, but what he’s planning, what he’s doing—it will hurt a lot of people. I’ve tried everything else, and nobody believes me because of his power and influence."

Spike exchanged a look with Applejack, his expression serious. "We’re not assassins, Diamond. But if there’s something dangerous going on, maybe there’s another way we can help, without resorting to... that."

Applejack nodded in agreement. "We need to hear the whole story before we jump to any conclusions. Why don’t you start from the beginning, and let’s see if there’s a way to handle this without doing something you might regret."

Diamond Tiara looked between them, the fight visibly draining from her as relief slowly replaced it. "Thank you," she whispered, finally allowing herself to be guided to a bench where she could sit and share her story.