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    The dirty cloth covering the tunnel, as wide as the thick castle wall, smells musty as I take a whiff while squeezing through.


    Inside the castle ruin is a square courtyard surrounded by tall, partially crumbled walls made of large stones. We are in. I am standing on a wooden bridge that lines up with the walls at about half their height. It''s almost pitch dark, and I can feel the cold night breeze and see the stars above, faintly illuminating the area.


    After a long gaze, my eyes adjust to the darkness, and I recognize the place. There is a huge statue of a sitting entity in the middle of the courtyard. It has very strong chiseled features, covered in moss and weeds. The courtyard beneath its feet is filled with rubble and trash, almost covering the statue''s bare feet.


    I look at Mike and Astrid; they seem unsure, but the quietness of the night makes me comfortable, so I whisper, “Let''s go, it looks safe.” We are facing the statue from the left side, looking at its profile. After a few steps to the left over the bridge, I notice a wooden gate.


    “It''s our gate!” whispers Mike.


    Mike''s sudden, confident walk over the creaky wooden beams catalyzes a strong red light in the area. The source of the red light is a massive floating panel above the head of the statue.


    The Old Traveler - Level 80


    “Motherf…” I’m speechless. Mike is freaked out, and Astrid lets out a slight scream. Extremely frightened yet stunned at how such a humongous thing could even be alive. I crouch immediately and halt my movement as the statue does not move.


    The health bar is very different from the others we saw before; it is much longer and thicker, even compared to the size of the enemy. A stream of lava-like fluid is very slowly and steadily moving from left to right in it. This feels like regeneration or some sort of charging. A quick thought flashes.


    “What do we do?” I whisper. “Turn back or try to sneak to the gate? There is no other way around, I think.”


    Astrid notes that it''s strange we can''t hear the giant breathing; maybe it''s in some vegetative state or it just turned to stone.


    Mike nods at her idea, and we decide to continue. Slow and steady, we sneak across the bridge along the stone walls. No sound, no wind. The area is lit in dark red. Still, it feels quite safe.


    Before long, we are standing in front of the gate. It is secured by a medieval gate lock: a big wooden bar. We know that removing the beam is the first step. Mike approaches under the beam quietly and braces his right arm underneath. He tries to push it up with one hand, but unfortunately, the beam does not move even slightly.


    “It''s heavier than it looks, help,” he whispers.


    Astrid looks around uncomfortably. I push with all my strength, using both arms. It moves up a bit, but not enough to lift it over the metal brackets holding the beam.


    Astrid joins to help, and all three of us try to push it up. A musty cold breeze blows from behind us, followed by a strong, weathered groan.


    Letting the beam fall, we turn around to the statue. The statue is crackling, and its skin is crumbling as it slowly stands up, making more rumbling noises. The area darkens as its health bar moves up, above the castle ruin walls.


    A shiny warm golden light emerges from underneath its feet. The stiff clothing reveals a shimmering solid gold but rather small chest beneath. Now it is clear what that thing is doing there.


    I take a glance at its legs; they are very thick, stump-like, and seem impenetrable to any projectile or weapon.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    The golden chest illuminates the bottom of the courtyard. Bones. Piles of broken bones and gear are everywhere. A huge gray hand emerges quickly from underneath its cloak and grabs one of us.


    It is me. It happens so fast. I can barely react. Astrid starts to scream, and Mike desperately tries to push the beam once again.


    The hand is surprisingly warm and soft. Dozens of possible thoughts flash through my mind. My feet are hanging beneath the fist. I cannot move a muscle. The squeeze is tight.


    Am I going to be eaten alive? Crushed? Thrown against the wall? What about them?


    “Run!” I barely manage to scream at them, whistling from my lungs. That last word escapes me, squeezing the last bit of air I had in me.


    The hand is slowly closing. I can feel my kneecaps first as they are pushing together. Looking at Mike, I see he grabs Astrid, and they start to run back to the hole.


    Swoosh.


    BANG!


    My head spins, and the dizziness is followed by tremendous pain. I start to scream internally as it’s impossible any other way. The statue smashes the wooden bridge with its fist while I’m inside, breaking the thick wooden planks and completely squashing my feet to jam.


    I’ve never felt more pain in my life. What seems to be the worst is followed by even more. The hand of the statue is slowly tightening its grip, and another tremendous pain starts to emerge from the bottom of my pelvis. I was never so hopeless.


    I can''t release any sound from me. I don''t scream; tears are flowing from my eyes.


    Agonizing pain builds up, and I cannot understand why I’m not fainting yet. All I wish for now is a painless death more than I ever wished for.


    Ribcage and pelvis break


    It is a loud crack, and that is the last thing I can hear, along with the frightening screams and cries of Mike and Astrid. My ears are ringing, and I feel my throat filling with blood and the flesh of my intestines.


    Why am I not dying? I can''t bear it anymore!


    *Soft Ding*


    *Poof*


    A white feline figure appears from a dust cloud in front of Mike and Astrid.


    It scurries in the air in one or two circles, extending its paws afterward and touching both of them simultaneously.


    It is done. The last hallucination, I don''t feel any pain anymore. All three of them disappear in a white dust cloud.


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    My mind is focused only on the present. Quite a pleasant feeling of warm sand brushing over my back, flowing in the wind from behind me. The air is fresh, and I feel cozy.


    Was this all just a dream? Or am I dead? I refuse to open my eyes and simply sit there for a good amount of time, enjoying the breeze and soft massage. It’s more calming than it was around the floating fire back there. I’ve never felt so safe and sound.


    *Blink*


    The ochre-colored particles dance in front of me. An endless open space stretches out in a constant windstorm, with sand and dust flying in all directions but miraculously avoiding my eyes and nostrils.


    I look down at myself, sitting in a lotus position, naked yet feeling more alive, rejuvenated, and cozy than ever. All my injuries are completely healed. I look at my knee, where a scar from my childhood had always been, now vanished.


    Fulfilled with energy, I want to stand up, but I can''t. My bottom parts are holding on the ground. Some force is holding me in place, like a magnet. I raise my hands and look at my left one. While I focus on one of my fingers, it disappears.


    This gives me a wild, unexpected shock. The moment I look away, my finger appears back on. Focusing on different ones follows the same pattern. When I look at it directly, it disappears.


    It is a strange sight to look around my hands and feet while the parts vanish and reappear, solely by my focus. I let the thumb on my right hand disappear and analyze the wound it leaves. It is almost nonexistent, looking like I was born without the thumb. Strange indeed.


    What does this all mean? To get out of this, do I need to sacrifice one finger? Is this the penalty for dying?


    No need for counting; I have 20 lives left. What happens when I’m fingerless? Completely useless, or will I have to sacrifice more than fingers? The thought of that amputee merchant we met earlier—I can’t get it out of my head now.


    Is he a veteran who died too many times until he decided to stop going further? Or am I overthinking this too soon? Could he be a foreigner too? Every second here brings more unanswered questions.


    Wait. Fuck. That means I died. The flow of questions is followed by recent memories. My teeth clench, and tears cover my eyes in an instant. My brain, which almost completely wiped what just happened a while ago, did a great job protecting my sanity, but not for long. The PTSD kicks in, and I start to shiver and shake all around.


    Suddenly, the place feels not so welcoming, and I want to know the answers as soon as possible. Without any idea of how this even works, I look at my pinky toe on my left foot and say out loud, “Confirm.” It feels like pulling out the outlet plug on a TV. Sudden darkness and oblivion.