“Yep. Look at that swirling.”


    “You know how far it is from the nutria field to the crossroads, right? The size of it, and from this distance. How many were in the woods?


    You got almost fifty levels from burning them. How many are even there?” Mike wonders, his eyes burning with anticipation.


    “Can we burn these?” is the second thing he spits out.


    I had already imagined how much additional experience these could provide, but who will have the honor? Definitely not me.


    Mike starts to walk.


    I stay behind, knowing my hands won’t be much help in any combat that might happen.


    <hr>


    Bloodthirsty, Mike unsheathes his sabre and quickens his pace. He runs straight to the heap of swirling bodies. Some of them crawl toward him, but he slices them on the ground.


    As I get closer, I notice that almost every swirling body is already chopped up, missing limbs or heads.


    Painful mumbling can be heard from the top of the pile, and something shiny sticks out.


    I stay and gaze up the hill made of mutilated, yet still living, corpses. I can''t decide which was more horrifying: seeing it from a distance, when it looked like a giant swirling blob of flesh, or up close, where it’s full of thick, rather short snakes with human heads and dismembered, twitching bodies. It’s at least three times the height of a human, maybe more.


    The most surreal part is how the health bars appear and disappear as the faces that point towards us glimpse another prey, turning hostile, only to be forced away by other bodies, making the health bar vanish again and intersect with each other.


    This is definitely a glitch in the system, or whatever governs this place. The system probably never anticipated such a scenario.


    Looking at the top of the pile, I realize the shiny part is none other than the infamous Lecherous Knight—still alive.


    The blob’s constant movement keeps parts of him—his armored leg, his arm—sticking out and then sucked back in. He’s trapped in this swirling abomination, probably with broken limbs, unable to climb out.


    I stand beside Astrid, observing.


    Morbid curiosity and disgust are equally balanced. If we ever get back to our regular lives with our families, I could easily work as a pathologist, surgeon, or firefighter—or even write a horror book. With nightmarish scenes like this, my imagination got an unwelcome boost.


    My tolerance for traumatic events and gore has skyrocketed in just a few days. What has it been? Three or four days? Or maybe I’ll end up with PTSD.


    Enough of this nonsense.


    “Stop fighting it! You’re wasting energy and dulling your weapon!” I yell at Mike, who mindlessly tries to slash the ones escaping the cocoon. Is he doing this to vent his anger, or does he think it will actually help?


    Watching for a while longer, I appreciate my choice of a blunt weapon over a blade. How could you possibly make a hammer worse? You can''t make it more blunt.


    It just is what it is: a heavy, indestructible metallic cube. The handle will suffer, of course, but I believe there’s a way to strengthen it.


    Now, I secretly wish for a modern hammer with a handle made of some high-tech material, like carbon fiber or laminate with a rubber grip. Maybe even flexible, to ease the strain on my wrists.


    Yes, that will be my next goal: a hammer upgrade. As always, one thought leads to another, and I end up daydreaming at the worst possible time.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    “Whoever ignites the fire will get a ton of experience,” I tell them, knowing I’m out of the game. But the idea of doing it myself sparks joy. I imagine investing in endurance now, not just strength.


    How will it affect my Focus skill? How much thicker will my skin get? Will I become invincible to physical attacks? What about the new skills? So many questions, yet impossible to answer now.


    I bet Mike is itching to burn it whole. Or will he show his chivalry? I wait impatiently for them to decide but Astrid immediately offers it to him, explaining why he might be the better choice.


    "No, you need it more." He declines.


    By the look on Mike’s face, I can tell he genuinely wants to pass this opportunity to Astrid. So, in the end, his chivalry wins over his greed.


    “What about a split?” I suggest.


    "And how are you going to achieve that?" Asks Mike.


    “Astrid burns the bottom, and you throw fire on top. I believe you two could time this just right to make it fair.”


    But because of my suggestion, I see the spark in his eyes. He’s eager to level up, to grow, to catch up.


    “I’ll go get the fire. Astrid, stay away from the blob!” He starts walking towards the charred edge. I stand there awkwardly and ask Astrid where she plans to invest her upcoming skill points.


    “You know, when I was tied up down there, desperate for a death other than burning alive, a miracle happened. Those bodies released their energy around the same time, and I got an insane amount of points. I don''t know if I invested them wisely, under time pressure.”


    She looks surprised by my sudden openness, but I continue as I notice curiosity in her green eyes.


    “My arm was tied up. I begged the system to invest all my points in strength. At that time, it seemed like the only way out. It responded to my voice and later to my thoughts. So, it’s reading our minds somehow.” I decide to share my observation but keep the bonus skill secret to myself.


    She thanks me for the information, and I warn her to spend her points wisely.


    “The sheer amount of strength in my body is too much for my outer shell. I believe endurance needs to match that strength. I tested this with a splinter, and you before, with the bow tendon, right?” I continue.


    “I’m still undecided. Curious about what willpower does. I never mentioned this before, but those few points I put in it... I felt something I’ve never felt before. A quick flash, like time slowed down, and I noticed more details around me. That single second of clarity convinced me to experiment with willpower more.”


    As she finishes, we hear Mike coming back. He holds two bright orange glowing sticks.


    One is bigger, with a split, thicker end. He hands it to Astrid, instructing her to pile dry grass on top and kindle it. She follows his instructions, carefully swirling handfuls of dry stems around the split part of the stick. After a few blows, the thick end bursts into flame.


    Meanwhile, Mike kicks back moving bodies and body parts that have wandered away from the pile. Occasionally, the mix of grotesque sounds is interrupted by the old man’s screams. The wounded Lecherous Knight gasping for air.


    “Top or bottom?” Mike asks Astrid. She rolls her eyes, thinking for a moment. Her eyes stop at the knight on top. With a poker face and slightly narrowed eyes, she replies simply, “Top.”


    “Give it a good throw,” Mike says as she adjusts her stance.


    *Fwoosh*


    The torch flies and lands near the center of the pile.


    We all just stand there, watching. The fire starts to spread slowly.


    Thick gray smoke rises quickly, like from a chimney. And as the fire takes hold, the dry corpses that catch it first start to move and twitch rapidly, confirming their pain receptors are still active.


    If they could scream, I’m sure they would. I watch Astrid’s reaction, looking into her eyes. Is she okay with all this?


    But what’s this? I notice her lips twitch, trying not to smile. Her eyes, though, give her away. They never lie.


    She’s starting to enjoy this. Why now? I wonder. Are her points already adding up, is she leveling with her thoughts? No, it’s too early; they need to burn for a while for it to count.


    After a few moments, agonizing screams fill the air, echoing with a range of horrifying tones I never thought a human could produce. It’s like the depths of hell have been unleashed.


    The knight is being cooked alive in his armor, which serves as a pan. I remember how disgusted and terrified I was in school when I first learned about the medieval torture device, the bronze bull.


    And here I am, watching something disturbingly similar.


    *Finger snap*


    Pocco appears in the air in front of Astrid. She pats him on the head and guides him to sit on her right shoulder.


    “This is for you.”


    I gape at her, my mouth open in shock. Surprised by the events.


    Glancing at Mike, I see fear in his eyes. I bet he had no idea what she was capable of. But I justify it, given the extreme gore we’ve been exposed to over the past few days.


    When the screams finally stop, she touches the cat again, and he disappears into thin air.


    I don’t dare get too close to him. I still don’t know if it was all a dream or if he really spoke to me. He acts like a normal cat.


    I see Astrid roll her eyes up to the side, as if she’s hearing something.