The Butcher's Masquerade (Dungeon Crawler Carl, #5)

by Matt Dinniman

Donut suddenly let out a hiss and jumped to my shoulder. “You vile, disgusting bitch,” she spat at Bea, who pulled back in surprise. “Wh… what?” Bea asked. “You danced with me. You sang to me. You made me feel loved. I didn’t do anything wrong, and you were going to give me away.” “What?” Bea asked again. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing. You were the only person I ever knew. I was born, and you were there. You and Carl. I loved you, and you were my world. My whole world. I know you had a bunch of cats growing up, and maybe I was just nothing to you other than a way to win more ribbons than your mother, but you were the only human I ever knew, and to me, you were everything. And I was so stupid, because I thought since I loved you, that meant you loved me.” Odette muttered something under her breath. “And you were just awful to Carl. And even though he’s big and dumb, he didn’t deserve that. He’s not perfect, and I know he snores and has all these disgusting habits and smelly friends, but what you did to him is not okay. I know I make fun of him sometimes. I can’t help it. I’m a cat. That’s what I do. Plus, I mean, let’s be honest here. He walks right into it most of the time. But you actually betrayed him. We don’t do that to people we love. And you know what, Miss Beatrice? You don’t deserve how sad I feel right now. I still love you. I still miss you, and I hate myself for it. You don’t deserve to get to explain your side of the story. You lost that chance. But I’m ...

Katia, Elle, Imani, Bautista, Louis, Firas, Gwen, Tran, Britney along with several others I didn’t know as well. Mongo was also loose and moved freely about the spaces, demanding scratches from everyone like he was an attention-starved dog at a party.

Enchanted Crown of the Sepsis Whore. Who’s a dirty girl? You’re a dirty girl! This is a Fleeting item! This is a Unique* item! Imbues wearer with +5 Intelligence, grants the user +5 to the Good First Impression skill. All attacks, including magical attacks, now have a 15% chance to inflict the Sepsis debuff. Warning! (Seriously though. I’m going to say this again. WARNING! Read this shit before you put it on.) Placing this crown upon your head permanently places you within the royal line of succession for the Blood Sultanate on the ninth floor of the world dungeon. Removing this item will not remove this status. Royal members of the Blood Sultanate will be required to slay the Sultan and all other members of the royal family before descending to the tenth floor. You’ll only want to wear this if you’re a blood-thirsty, raging psychopath.

“Oh my god, Carl,” Donut said. “This is just like the plot to Footloose! They’re stealing storylines now!” “I don’t remember the part where the girl turns into a murderous dinosaur after her dad tells her she can’t dance,” I said. “Maybe that was in part two.”

The goat’s demeanor had greatly changed from the first time I’d met him. Trauma does that, I thought. It’s an explosion with your heart at the center. It changes everything all at once.

“Okay, mister bossy pants. We ended up not needing them yet, did we?” “That’s beside the point.” “Is it? Because the last I looked, this was the Royal Court of Princess Donut. Not the Stupid Team of Stupid Dictator Carl and his Abused Slave Cat, Princess Donut.”

Sir Ferdinand. Cat. Familiar of Queen Imogen of the High Elves. Level 100 Province Boss. It’s not easy to live amongst the high elves, especially when you’re not a high elf yourself. Over the centuries, countless adorable creatures have found themselves upon the laps of high elf royalty. It is a dangerous place to sit. Eventually, the elven kings and queens have tired of their pets. Or discovered them to be too intelligent. Too cunning. Too eager. And eventually, the kings and queens would order not just the execution of the pet, but of the entire species. It is the way of the high elves. Ferdinand owes his life to the fact that Queen Imogen is rather fond of him. She’s fond of him in the same way a surgeon is fond of their favorite scalpel or a mass murderer is fond of their favorite chainsaw. Like all cats, Ferdinand’s biggest weakness is the fact he is utterly convinced that whatever thought enters his chicken nugget-sized brain is not just the truth, but it is the obvious, unalienable truth and anyone who thinks anything otherwise is not just a fool, but an imbecile deserving of nothing less than utter contempt and mockery. He is prone to self-aggrandizing behavior. He doesn’t understand the concept of being told no. He doesn’t understand the concept of not being worshipped. It’s rumored he’s somehow even managed to sneak a small amount of magical control over the castle itself, slipping a few cat-sized hallways here and there where nobody else would notice. He never e...