My brain was trying to process what had just happened.
A groan came from my left. The imp was pulling herself out from under a stack of books, her gossamer shawl torn but still shimmering.
Movement caught my eye. The hare was emerging from behind a fallen platform, its paw wraps still intact, its eyes even wider than usual.
"WE'RE ALIVE," it said, sounding shocked.
"Barely," I muttered, looking down at my body. My bones were still cracked in places despite the vial. My pink sash was more holes than fabric at this point. My boots had finally given up entirely—one sole had fallen off completely.
But we were alive.
I crawled over to where Kitten Cowboy was sleeping. The tiny kitten was curled into the smallest ball imaginable, purring softly. It looked completely peaceful, like it hadn't just committed what could only be described as boss-icide.
"You're amazing," I whispered, gently scooping the sleeping kitten into my arms. "Absolutely amazing."
Kitten Cowboy's purring intensified slightly but didn't wake up.
The notifications were still floating in my vision. I pulled up my status screen.
LEVEL: 8
EXPERIENCE: 2,847 / 3,000
UNALLOCATED ATTRIBUTE POINTS: 13
SKILL POINTS AVAILABLE: 3
REWARDS PENDING: 12
"Twelve rewards," the imp said, reading over my shoulder. "That's... that's a lot."
"Two levels plus all those achievements," I said. "Yeah."
More notifications appeared:
[FLOOR ONE CLEARED]
[Access to Floor Two: GRANTED]
[The Curator's Archives are now accessible]
[New Safe Room location: UNLOCKED]
The imp's eyes widened. "The archives. Daniel, the archives."
I looked at her. At the hope and desperation mixing on her tiny face.
"Let's find your name," I said.
The Gallery was transforming around us. The oppressive darkness was lifting, replaced by a warm golden light. The alcoves with their preserved corpses were fading completely now, leaving behind empty niches in the walls.
At the far end of the Gallery, a new doorway had appeared. Ornate. Made of dark wood with brass fittings. Above it, in elegant script, were the words: CURATOR'S ARCHIVES.
"There," I said, pointing.
We made our way across the Gallery—me limping, the imp flying in short bursts, the hare hopping silently on its wrapped paws. I carried Kitten Cowboy carefully, making sure not to disturb the exhausted kitten's sleep.
The door opened at our approach, swinging inward with a soft creak.
Inside was exactly what you'd expect from someone called the Curator of Ruin. Rows upon rows of shelves, all filled with books, scrolls, ledgers, and filing cabinets. The space was enormous—bigger than it should have been given the Gallery's exterior dimensions.
Everything was meticulously organized. Color-coded labels. Alphabetical ordering. Dewey Decimal System markers. The Curator might have been a terrifying boss fight, but he'd taken his record-keeping seriously.
"Where do we even start?" I asked, looking at the overwhelming amount of information.
The imp was already moving, flying toward a section labeled PERSONNEL RECORDS - TUTORIAL STAFF.
"Here," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "If I was a tutorial imp, my records should be here."
I set Kitten Cowboy down gently on a nearby reading desk—the kitten immediately curled up tighter and continued sleeping—and joined the imp at the shelves.
The hare hopped up onto the desk and settled down next to me, watching with interest as I began sorting through records.
"TAKE YOUR TIME," the hare said quietly. "WE'LL WAIT."
The imp pulled out a thick ledger labeled TUTORIAL IMPS: A-M. Her tiny hands trembled as she opened it.
I stood beside her, giving her space but staying close enough to offer support.
She flipped through pages. Names. Dates. Assignment histories. Each entry was written in the same neat, precise handwriting—the Curator's work.
"So many," the imp whispered. "There are so many of us."
She kept searching. Page after page. Her eyes scanning each entry with desperate intensity.
Then she stopped.
Her finger hovered over a line of text. Her whole body went still.
"Daniel," she said, her voice barely audible. "Daniel, I found it."
I leaned in to read over her shoulder.
Entry #4,729
Name: Mira Ashveil
Classification: Tutorial Imp
Date of Assignment: [REDACTED]
Previous Life: Merchant's daughter, Third Circle, died age 24
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
Cause of Death: Building collapse during earthquake
Notable Traits: Exceptional organizational skills, patient demeanor, tendency toward perfectionism
Memory Status: SUPPRESSED (Standard Tutorial Protocol)
Current Status: Active - Assigned to First Floor Tutorial Room #47
The imp—Mira—stared at the entry. A single tear rolled down her cheek.
"Mira Ashveil," she whispered. "That's me. That's my name."
"Mira," I said softly, trying it out. "It's a good name."
She looked up at me, and for the first time since I'd met her, she smiled. Not her usual sarcastic smirk. A real, genuine smile.
"I had a life," she said. "I was someone. I wasn't just... this." She gestured at her small imp form. "I was Mira."
"You still are," I said. "You've always been Mira. You just didn't remember."
She wiped her eyes with the edge of her gossamer shawl. "Thank you. For bringing me here. For letting me find this."
"That's what teams do," I said simply.
"FROM NOW ON, YOUR NAME IS MIRA," the hare announced from the desk. "THAT'S OFFICIAL."
Mira laughed—a sound somewhere between joy and relief. "Okay. Yeah. I'm Mira."
She closed the ledger carefully, reverently, and tucked it under her arm. "I'm keeping this. For evidence."
"Good idea," I said.
A notification appeared:
[Companion Status Update]
[Tutorial Imp → Mira Ashveil]
[Identity Restored: +2 to all Stats]
I looked around the archives. "We should probably head to the safe room. Open all those rewards. Figure out what's next."
"Agreed," Mira said, still smiling. "Plus, you look like you're about to fall apart.”
"I’m fine."
"You're limping."
"Walking with style."
I picked up Kitten Cowboy carefully. The tiny kitten shifted in my arms but didn't wake. "Let's go."
We left the archives. The Gallery was completely transformed now. It felt like a museum, peaceful and still.
Near the entrance, a new doorway had appeared. It glowed with soft blue light—the same color as the safe rooms.
"There," I said, pointing. "New safe room."
We stepped through the doorway.
The safe room was bigger than the previous one. Same white stone walls, same blue light, but this one had actual furniture. A stone bench. A small table. Even what looked like a basin of water.
"Fancy," Mira said, settling onto the bench.
I placed Kitten Cowboy on the table, making sure the sleeping kitten was comfortable. Then I sat down on the floor, my back against the wall, and finally let myself relax.
The hare hopped over and settled next to me, its warm presence comforting.
"Okay," I said, pulling up my notifications. "Time to see what we got."
REWARDS PENDING: 12
I focused on the first reward. The light coalesced, forming into something solid.
A revolver materialized in my hands.
It was beautiful. Small—clearly not designed for human hands. The metal was a deep silver-blue, engraved with intricate patterns. The grip was wrapped in soft leather. The barrel was short but perfectly balanced.
And floating above it, text appeared:
Rare: Familiar Weapon
Peacemaker Mk.I — Familiar Revolver
(Optimized for kitten use)
-
Familiar-only weapon
-
Damage: High
-
Ammo: Spectral rounds (auto-generated)
-
Fire rate: Medium
Special:
Passive — Tiny Gunslinger
When used by a feline familiar:
-
+25% accuracy
-
+15% crit chance
Active — Dramatic Standoff
User remains motionless for 2 seconds, then next shot:
-
Guaranteed critical hit
-
Minor knockback effect
Flavor text:
"Designed after extensive research into what humans find 'adorable but terrifying.'"
I stared at the gun. Then at the sleeping Kitten Cowboy. Then back at the gun.
"Oh my god," I whispered. "This is perfect."
"A gun for the kitten," Mira said, flying over to examine it.
"IT'S TINY," the hare observed. "LIKE A TOY. BUT ALSO CLEARLY DEADLY."
I looked at the revolver's size. It was maybe six inches long—perfectly proportioned for tiny paws. The trigger guard was small enough that a kitten's paw could fit comfortably.
"This is going to be incredible," I said, setting the gun carefully on the table next to Kitten Cowboy.
I focused on the second reward.
This time, armor materialized. A chestpiece, specifically. It looked like reinforced leather, dyed a deep crimson, with metal plates worked into strategic locations. The craftsmanship was excellent—flexible but protective.
Rare: Armor
Groin Guard of Unnecessary Protection
-
Defense: +5
-
Endurance: +2
-
Agility: -1
Special Ability: Pointless Defense
When health drops below 15%:
-
Activates protective shield around groin area (95% reduction)
-
Lasts 8 seconds
-
Cooldown: 6 minutes
Flavor text:
"Protect the balls."
"That's completely useless," I said, staring at the armor piece in disbelief. The metal plates felt awkward and poorly positioned.
"You look ridiculous," Mira said, barely suppressing a laugh.
"This is the worst piece of equipment I've ever seen."
I went through the remaining rewards quickly:
Reward 3: Bone Repair Kit (Common) - Consumable. Instantly heals minor fractures. I used it immediately on my cracked bones.
Reward 4: Spectral Thread (Material) - Crafting material. Could be used to repair my pink sash.
Reward 5: Crystal of Stored Light (Uncommon) - Consumable. Creates a bright light when crushed. Good for emergencies.
Reward 6: Vial of Bone Dust (Common) - Crafting material. No immediate use but might be valuable later.
Reward 7: Ancient Compass (Uncommon) - Equipment. Points toward nearest unexplored area. Added to inventory.
Reward 8: Fragment of Ruined Memory (Rare) - Material. Description said it could be used in "advanced crafting." No idea what that meant yet.
Reward 9: Spectral Lantern (Uncommon) - Consumable. One-time use. Creates a protective barrier of light that repels hostile entities for 30 seconds. "OH THAT'S PERFECT FOR ME," the hare said enthusiastically.
Reward 10: Exploding Rubber Duck (Common) - Consumable. When squeezed, plays cheerful quacking sounds for 3 seconds before detonating in a shower of soap bubbles and confusion. Enemies within 5 meters become disoriented.
Reward 11: Bag of Something (Uncommon) - Equipment. Expands inventory space by 20 slots. Immediately equipped.
Reward 12: Boss Trophy: Curator's Glasses - Special Item. The wire-rimmed glasses. Description: "A memento of an impossible victory. +1 Cognition when worn. Makes you look distinguished."
I picked up the glasses and put them on. They settled onto my nasal cavity perfectly.
"How do I look?" I asked.
"Like a nerd." Mira said.
"LIKE A NERD," the hare added helpfully.
"Perfect," I said, adjusting them. "That's exactly the vibe I want."
I pulled up my status screen to see the final tally:
LEVEL: 8
ATTRIBUTES:
STRENGTH: 7
AGILITY: 9 (10 -1 from groin guard)
ENDURANCE: 12 (10 + 2 from groin guard)
COGNITION: 10 (9 + 1 from glasses)
INSTINCT: 12
PRESENCE: 4
EQUIPMENT:
-
Groin Guard of Unnecessary Protection (Rare) - Defense +5
-
Curator's Glasses (Special) - Cognition +1
-
Pink Sash of Non-Aggression (Damaged)
-
Name Tag (Endurance +1)
-
Wanderer's Boots (Destroyed)
-
Toad's Blessing (Ring)
-
Bag of Something
Kitten Cowboy stirred on the table, opening one golden eye. The tiny kitten yawned, showing tiny teeth, then noticed the revolver next to it.
The kitten's eyes widened.
Slowly, Kitten Cowboy stood up on its hind legs and reached for the gun with both tiny paws.
The revolver fit perfectly in the kitten's grip—proportioned exactly right for small paws. Kitten Cowboy held it up, examining it from every angle, tail swishing with excitement.
"Pew?" the kitten said, looking at me questioningly.
"Yes," I said, smiling. "That's yours. Pew pew."
Kitten Cowboy's face—if a kitten could be said to have expressions—showed pure joy. It spun the revolver around one paw (somehow not dropping it), struck a dramatic pose, and said with absolute seriousness:
"Pew."
A small leather holster shimmered into existence on the kitten's tiny body—perfectly sized, sitting at its hip like a proper gunslinger's rig. Kitten Cowboy holstered the revolver with a satisfied motion and sat back down, looking immensely pleased with itself.
I leaned back against the wall, finally letting myself fully relax. We'd done it. We'd beaten the first floor boss. We had actual equipment now. Mira had her name back. Kitten Cowboy had a gun.
Things were looking up.
"So," Mira said, settling next to me. "Floor Two?"
"Eventually," I said. "But first, I think we deserve a rest. A real rest."
"I AGREE WITH RESTING," the hare said immediately.
Kitten Cowboy curled up on my lap, purring contentedly, one tiny paw resting on the grip of its new revolver.
I smiled, adjusted my new glasses, and closed my eyes.