The Gate of the Feral Gods (Dungeon Crawler Carl, #4)

by Matt Dinniman

There’s no such thing as a non-profit religion. At least not in the legal sense.

Ta-da! Just saying.

I tried toggling Planetary Sea-level Only, but that was a mistake. It had me at just over -92,000 meters. I realized that meant I was standing 92 kilometers under the surface of the planet. That was crazy. Was earth’s crust even that thick? Wasn’t it all magma and oil and gooey shit once you got deep enough? I’d never paid attention in geology class.

From a Google AI search for funsies: Earth’s Crust is 5-70km. Earth’s Mantle is 2900km. Earth’s Outer Core is 2200km. Earth’s Inner Core is 1200km. Total max km is 6370. Total max meters is 6370000. So at 92k meters, they are still very much somewhere “inside” Earth.

After some adjusting, I finally found two different gauges that gave me what I needed. One was adjustable. I set it at 0.00, giving me a gauge to the surface of the tomb. The second was at 8,932 meters. It was labeled Gravitational Zone Sea Level. If I was reading it correctly, that meant we were nine kilometers above the water quadrant.

Mount Everest is 9km above sea level. All the credit and none of the work, Carl. lol

“Sometimes we do things that are not of our nature to protect our own.”

Sometimes we do things that are not of our nature to protect our own.

Coffee Shop Author Kit. Alcoholism and crippling self-doubt not included.

You’re a good fighter, Carl. And you think fast. That’s why we’re still alive. You rarely think of the proper answer to a problem, but you usually come up with one that works anyway.”

Any kid who’s had battery-operated toys—or any adult who’s had a remote control for their television—knows exactly what happens when that ridiculous little plastic tab over the battery compartment breaks or somehow gets out of whack. The whole cover refuses to stay put, and any big jolt causes it to take a dive, usually disemboweling the batteries in the process.

“Can you imagine? You’re a famous, beautiful adventurer and suddenly you’re in some smelly scientist guy’s basement? Just bringing them to life isn’t enough. You’d have to make them like you. And let me tell you, if you’re the type of guy who is living in a putrid cellar trying to bring fictional people to life, making them like you is a tall order. It’s weird, and it’s creepy.”

The thing looked like a god had sneezed over the stairwell, and the mucus pile had rolled in kitty litter.

While she’d appeared almost majestic and fairy-like underwater, up here she looked like a dead rat that’d been resurrected and then run over by a garbage truck.

Tran turned to Vadim. “Do you own a red shirt? I feel as if I should put one on.” “What does that mean?” Vadim asked.

Oh, Vadim. You sweet, summer child.

When you’re in the Carl and Donut party, you ride on the Carl and Donut rollercoaster, and once it gets going, there’s no getting off. I need to do this.”