Clutter slams the door shut before anyone can get a word out. He fumbles with his Class Card as he presses the hexagon shut with his back, and as it clicks to let us know it’s locked, he sighs with relief and slumps down to the ground.

  A little bit more visceral than I would’ve reacted, but I can’t say I don’t get it. “Pearl, did you see anything through there in the… two seconds it was open?”

  “Mmhm.” She confirms. “A lot of scratches, an open door on the other side, and a hexagonal plate in the wall that’s about halfway covered up by the hallway’s material.”

  “So it is the same room.” I mutter to myself as Clutter slowly stands up. “We essentially have a permanent starway between the tower and that one half-circle room now.”

  Pearl nods. “It’d be a lot more convenient if you couldn’t just relocate us anywhere we’ve already been. But… I guess it’s good if other things start showing up in the city.”

  “If that ever happens, then yeah. I’d have to start finding hiding places for my coins, and there definitely weren’t any in that little room.” I cross my arms and furrow my brow in thought. “But why’s that construct there again? Is that part of the reward, too, or does it just reappear whenever someone enters the room?”

  “We can ask it next time. And we won't bring Clutter along since he has a problem with it.”

  Clutter vigorously nods in agreement. “Thank you. That thing just… really rubs me the wrong way.”

  I bend down and plant my hand on the ground. “No worries. The thing isn’t that useful, anyway, so we don’t have much of a reason to go talk to it after it answers that one question. But if this reward is actually a bunch of potential teleportation points, then I can see the tower being even more useful as a home base. Especially if we come across some more people and I don’t want to play teleporter for everyone.”

  “It’s probably starting to eat into your Worth, isn’t it?” Clutter asks as he steps up to the circular door that etches itself into the ground. “How much do you have left? Or… how much did you start off with when you came here?”

  That’s… a good question. I haven’t really checked since all this shit went down, and I’ve been weaving five-Worth coins into my rotations without even thinking about it. Just whenever I want a more powerful spell; a five Worth appears in my hand and I use it like normal. …Actually… have I really been using that many one-Worth spells at all?

  I frown and sit down on the edge of the door while I check my Class Card. Since my spells don’t really get stronger with anything but Worth, and I’ve been casting stronger spells, that’d have to mean I’ve been using more Worth. If there was something like a… purchase history… I’d be able to check, but that doesn’t exist. And if it did, it’d definitely be greyed out with the rest of my card functions. Luckily my stats are still visible, and my liquid Worth is at… three hundred. Not close to going bankrupt, but that’s damn far from the next clearance threshold.

  Just to be sure, though, I mentally call for a strong projectile. A five-Worth coin appears in my hand. I stare at it for a few seconds, then send it away as I mentally berate myself for not actually looking at the coins before I use my spells. I need to be more clear with my thoughts before I summon the coins, not just once I go to put spells in them. Hell, my stores of five-Worth coins are probably close to zero now, and the rest could very likely be singles.

  “I need to go back to using weaker spells.” I grumble as I send the card away. “I wasted way too much Worth on things that definitely could’ve been done with two, three, or even one Worth.”

  “Remember that Noland said something about diminishing returns?” Pearl chimes in. “So it’s even worse than you thought if you’re using a five Worth coin, because you’re probably only getting… like… three and a half Worth of power out of it.”

  I groan and shake my head. “Damn you for reminding me; now I feel even worse about my spending habits. How many stat points worth of Worth have I thrown away since I got here?”

  “I dunno.” Pearl shrugs. “Probably more than two, though.”

  Three hundred Worth left. I grimace and drop down into the hallway, then glance up at the ceiling as the door closes behind me. If I think purely short term, I’m fine. But if this lasts for months, then I’m going to have to find another way to get some Worth. Destroying the constructs won’t work, since their bodies are too durable, and I didn’t get anything for shattering the heads.

  Clutter sticks his head around a corner that didn’t exist before. “Are you coming?”

  I nod slowly and follow him around the bend. Instead of more wall, a circular door opens the way to a completely dark interior. The light simply stops like a sheet of rain blocked by an overpass, and beyond it is absolutely nothing. Not just darkness–my awareness screams at me that nothing exists beyond this point. I tilt my head and frown, but before I can say anything, Clutter just… walks in.

  Existence shapes itself around him. His foot meets a chunk of floor that didn’t exist a second ago, and reality forms itself around the impact point like a steady stream of dripping paint. Light doesn't come with it, and Clutter whimpers as he completely disappears into the absence of light. My words can’t leave my mouth fast enough to warn him, and as the first syllable passes my lips, he’s standing in the middle of a well-sized room.

  An empty room, sure, but a room nonetheless.

  “Be… nevermind.” I sigh and shake my head. “I guess one of us was supposed to do that.”

  “Do what?!” He asks with fear in his voice. “I can’t see anything! Am I about to run into something? Are there saws and stuff in here?! I don’t want to bang my knees on saws!”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Pearl giggles as we watch Clutter feel his way around the completely empty room. I keep the amusement off my face, since I would’ve kept us from even walking in there, but it’s… weird. This room–this strangeness–it doesn’t feel like the room with doors. All the material is indistinguishable from the halls and there’s no residual magic, but it appeared out of nowhere just like the door room. I scratch my neck as I carefully step through the threshold, completely ready to rely on my awareness.

  Light blinks into existence the moment my toe passes the threshold. Clutter yelps in surprise as a table suddenly appears in his path, wheeling his arms to keep from falling as he teeters towards a sharp edge covered by a little grey laminate. On top of said table, which is made of the same material as the hallway, is a set of glassware. Vials, flasks, canisters, and… cylinders. Exactly like the catalyst that Clutter found, but with one end open to the air.

  I step forward and grab Clutter’s arm to steady him. He plants his feet while his eyes bulge in disbelief, then he laughs awkwardly as he carefully takes a few steps back.

  “That would’ve been really bad.” He gulps. “Is… is this it?”

  My awareness says yes. But… that can’t be right. There’s one table in the center of the room with a good amount of glassware on it, and that’s it. No sinks, no burners, no… magical work stations, whatever those look like. Hell, there’s no machinery like the stuff Dizzy has. The only way I’d call this a workshop is if I was mocking it.

  Pearl looks around and raises an eyebrow. “Where’s all the stuff? This is more like a… really underwhelming lab, not a workshop.”

  “One table and some glass. It’s like the quest barely has an understanding of what a workshop is.” I chuckle and pick up one of the empty catalysts. “Only good thing is that we’ve got another of the catalyst tubes. No grey magic to use it, of course, but we’ve got an empty piece of glass.”

  “Hooray.” Pearl says sarcastically. “Let’s get out of here. Waiting in the tower will be better with the benefits it gives.”

  “But… we…” Clutter looks around the room with disappointment. “This can’t be everything. Is it my fault that I chose this? Would the kitchen have been way better? Oh no, we could’ve been eating sandwiches and drinking a lot of fresh water right now, but because I wanted this, we’re stuck with pretty much nothing.”

  I shake my head and lean against the table. “The quest said this was the higher quality addition. If we’d voted on the kitchen, there’s no way we would’ve gotten anything but a few cutting boards and mixing bowls. I bet there’s something else we’re supposed to do with this. Check your Class Card for anything new?”

  He stares at me for a second, then nods vigorously and pulls out his Class Card. Notifications pop up as he opens it, and he swipes them all away while silently mouthing words to himself that I can’t make out with my awareness. Until something stops him in his tracks. He frowns at it for a few seconds to read it, looks over at the door, and presses the hologram with an audible ‘click’.

  The circular door rolls into place and disappears without a trace. I feel a notification pop up in my Class Card, and Clutter turns to look at me expectantly.

  “I locked the room to anyone but us. Just like I did with the tower.” He says slowly. “Does that mean you’re going to control what the room actually does now?”

  Let’s see. I open my Class Card, and there it is. Another notification staring me in the face.

  Workshop

  Current Status: Uninitiated.

  Magical Draw: Negligible.

  Available Tower Magical Supply: Minimal.

  I raise an eyebrow at the status screen. Nothing looks like an option I have control over, but the word ‘uninitiated’ is underlined. Does that mean I can press on it? Only one way to find out, I guess.

  Workshop

  Current Status: Active.

  Magical Draw: Minimal.

  Available Tower Magical Supply: Empty.

  The room begins to hum, and the walls glow with luminescent grey magic. I raise an arm to shield my eyes from the blinding display, but through my awareness, I can feel the room shifting. Walls press inwards, the floor rises, and masses of material twist into shapes that are far more complicated than just a few glass tubes. And speaking of glass; more of it appears out of the table, but different parts of the room steal it away for their own purposes moments later.

  A trickle of running water tops it all off with a neat little bow. I open my eyes as the light fades, and a second later Clutter does the same. He doesn’t gasp in amazement, since it still isn’t… well… amazing, but it’s leagues better than the nearly empty room we had a few seconds ago. Mostly empty shelves line the walls with burners and other lab equipment scarcely dotting them. One table turned into two, and a counter now edges the half of the room without the shelves. And just next to the door is a double-wide sink with a faucet with magic etchings that feel like cascading waterfalls.

  “That’s more like it.” Pearl says with a nod of satisfaction. “There’s space under the tabletops, too, with some equipment in there. One of them’s for distilling magic, and the other’s for making magical things. Too bad I can’t see any furnaces–that’d be convenient for making our own glassware.”

  “Probably the reason they didn’t give it to us.”

  She thinks for a second, then hums. “You’re probably right. The glass came from inside the walls somewhere, so there’s a good chance it’s a more precious resource than the stone stuff.”

  It’s nowhere near as good as the shellraiser garage in the tunnels from… months ago, now, but it’s definitely a boon. As long as there’s an analysis machine under one of the tables, we can actually get started on finding out what was in those construct heads. Maybe even put them to good use for us.

  “Huh, why’re there two taps here?” Clutter turns the water tap with a loud squeak. “This one’s water. Is the other one water, too?”

  …Wait, two taps? That’s weird; I only felt one in my awareness as it was being built. In fact, I can still only feel one right now. Slightly offset to one side of the double sink. I raise an eyebrow and turn just in time to watch Clutter turn the other tap, which looks just like the first in every conceivable way to the naked eye.

  It doesn’t squeak. The chrrk-chrrk noise it makes as it turns reminds me of a ratchet, and for a few seconds, nothing comes out. Clutter frowns and knocks the tap with his knuckles a few times.

  “Is it broken already?”

  I shrug. “It’s not even in my awareness. Maybe the quest made a mistake, and it isn’t even fully here yet. We’ve seen a bunch of phase things so far, so it wouldn’t be that surp–”

  A bead of grey magic, like a single droplet of water coalescing on the end of the tap, shuts me the hell up. Clutter runs for a beaker before I can say anything, then nearly dives at the sink to get the thing under the tap before it falls into the drain below. It splatters against the bottom of the glass, sizzles like a drop of bacon grease, and stays there.

  At the same time, a warning message blares at me through my Class Card, and a popup forces itself into my vision.

  Warning: current magical draw exceeds tower capabilities.

  As base tower functions cannot be turned off, the magical flow to the Workshop is cut off until the tower’s power has increased.