I shake my head with a knowing chuckle. “You missed more than a little, Euro. Want to hear the full story?”

  Euro blinks, then looks to Jumble. “Do I want to hear it?”

  “Probably not. It’s not that pleasant, but… you’ll know it anyway if you stay to watch the anomaly do its thing. Then I guess you might as well hear it first. So!” Jumble claps her hands. “We found some corpses.”

  As if someone just yanked all their strings, Euro’s spine straightens and their expression tightens. They shove the apple at Jumble, then motion at their ears with a pleading look. Jumble nods sympathetically and gently puts her hands over the rogue’s ears.

  “We’ll come get you when we’re done. And if you find another anomaly, yell as loud as you can and we’ll come take it from you. Okay?”

  Euro nods tensely. “Okay.”

  “Then here you go.” Jumble leans in, whispers into Euro’s ears, and puts a staticky skill onto her friend. “I’ll turn the tanks around so you don’t have to see inside of them, too. That’ll let you search the living room while we’re still here.”

  Two very tense shoulders sag in relief as Euro nods once more–this time full of contented ignorance. I watch as they turn and saunter over to the room that I already checked, but instead of going right for the furniture, they go for all the little things that I didn’t bother scouring every inch of. I guess they found the fruit that way, so who am I to tell them to do anything differently.

  “I didn’t know they had a fear of bodies.” I say as I help Jumble turn the tanks so the corpses face the outer wall. “How’d they manage dealing with all the twisted paindne?”

  “The same way they’re dealing with them now.” Jumble taps her ears. “I can make them a little braver, but there’s a reason Dani was doing all the fighting when you met us. Besides me, he’s the only one that can really stomach seeing dead people.”

  She huffs as she twists the last tank into place, then steps back to take them all in. I join her at her side, noting all the different ways the paindne inside died. There’s the two we spent the most time on–shock and ribbons–but the other three I barely got a chance to look at before we moved onto the next one.

  First’s the one with the wound on the back–which, much to my surprise, was from an industrial accident and not something mauling them. Their description doesn’t say much as to what the thing that made the huge wound was, but if it was molten metal or the like, then it’d explain why the wound was so smooth. It could’ve been cauterized the moment it happened. But we already knew this was going to be one, so it wasn’t really that much of a surprise.

  The other two, though, are just as weird as ribbons. Considering which two we found first, it almost feels like we were supposed to find the simpler injuries first. Corpse number four was killed by a sudden gravitational shift–one that was perfectly in the center of their body. It split them perfectly in two, right between the eyes and down through the crotch. Somehow, though, each side of the body’s organs were connected to the other half. The description doesn’t say much beyond that, but it insinuates that this specific paindne was alive during the experiments. I didn’t think this could get more scientifically horrifying, but here we are.

  “None of that makes sense.” Jumble says with a nod at the text. “Unless whoever wrote this was underselling what a ‘sudden gravitational shift’ is, then none of that should've done this to the body.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “So what would a gravitational shift do to a body?”

  “I’m not really sure, but I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t rip you in half. Especially not that perfectly.” She gently pats the tank with her fingertips. “Something else happened, and either the researcher didn’t know it happened, or they put their theory here as fact.”

  Now how the hell did she know that? I scratch the base of my neck to silence my own question; she’ll just sidestep answering it again. “Alright, I guess. What’s your theory then?”

  “A knife so sharp the things it cuts doesn’t realize they’ve been cut.” She says. “I read some of your books that have descriptions of that. It fits perfectly.”

  Something so sharp it… oh, no, Jumble. That’s just a trope. I glance to the side to see if she’s just messing with me, but her eyes blaze with the kind of seriousness that’s impossible to fake. Part of me wants to open my mouth and disillusion her, but… she’s just so certain and proud. Am I the kind of person who’d do that to someone?

  “Is she talking about that one Japanese story?” Pearl asks with a frown. “Punch of the constellations or… something like that? I think I read it when you were sleeping in the resort. But didn’t that guy just punch people?”

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

  I close my eyes and barely shake my head. Time to change the subject before Pearl makes me ask Jumble for her source. “Alright, we’ll keep that theory in mind. How’s number five doing? Can you make any more sense of the notes now?”

  Jumble’s proud smile shifts into a thoughtful line. She walks around me and leans in close to the fifth tank, which contains the strangest dead paindne so far. And that’s saying something. Parts of it flicker into and out of existence, but every time they flicker, they change. Sometimes significantly; a dainty, well-groomed hand flickers into a gnarled fist that looks like it spent day in and day out hammering away at a blacksmith’s forge. Then the forearm could disappear, and in its place a bright red-furred malnourished thing with clumps falling out takes its place.

  All in all, it looks like a dozen or so different bodies are overlaid on top of each other–and they’re all taking turns at existing piece by piece. Just like the actual flesh, the notes, too, seem like they’re flickering between a dozen different short paragraphs of exactly equal numbers of words. Jumble stares deeply at it, her brow knitting together in concentration so deep that she doesn’t even flinch at the frost that’s starting to coat her palm.

  “They all died… the exact same way. But they’re not described in the exact same way.” Jumble leans back and shakes the frost from her hand. “I think I managed to nail down the reason, but I could be wrong. Want to hear it anyway?”

  I nod. Even if she’s wrong, it’s better than staring at a corpse without knowing anything at all.

  Jumble clears her throat, glances at Euro, then turns to me. “The researcher… or researchers, maybe, describe it as three different things. A disease, a radiation leak, and sudden organ failure without any plausible reason. All the people have the exact same damage, and there's no mention of any of them doing… this… in the notes.”

  “No mention of cycling through body parts. None at all.” I cross my arms and lean back against the wall. “So this happened after they did all that research. Meaning there are way more of these tanks spread over the city with people the quest didn’t want to put into this construct amalgam.”

  Jumble nods. “That’s what I think, too. The way all the notes are laid out makes it sound like each dead person was made into exactly one construct–but we’ve got one that’s heavily insinuating it’s made out of five… no, it’s closer to like fifteen people if all the ones in this tank are in it. What’s the point of that?”

  “Shoring up each other’s deficiencies?” I suggest.

  “Maybe, but I’m not sure.” Jumble says, obviously unconvinced. “Unless the researchers took out specific parts of their minds, there’s going to be a bunch of overlap in brain function. That’d make for one unstable construct.”

  “Kind of like the one we have here?”

  “...Yes, actually.” Jumble frowns and pulls out her Class Card. “Dang it, I hate when my own arguments prove me wrong.”

  I smirk at her annoyance. “How often does that happen?”

  “More than you’d think.” She grumbles. “I’m typing the message out now. Take a few steps back just in case.”

  She doesn't have to tell me twice. I back up until we’re standing side by side, and she shuffles a little closer to me for some reason–just far enough that we don’t touch, but if she sways even an inch, that’ll change. I sigh quietly through my nose and throw my arm around her shoulders in a quick side-hug. A little smile creeps up her cheeks, and her tail starts to wag. Poor girl really must’ve been lonely with her Worth Class if she’s this happy to have me as a friend.

  “Here we go.” Jumble taps my arm with her Class Card. “Locked and loaded. Are you ready?”

  I nod and pull away from the hug. Jumble whines quietly and leans into it for a moment, but straightens out right after. Her finger hovers over the send button as she gives me the side eye. I take the hint and pull out my own Class Card to see exactly how the construct responds. She sighs quietly and presses it.

  The construct twitches as the message hits it. It shudders and shakes for a moment, then its arms shoot out to its sides in an ‘A’ pose. Quiet hissing emerges from the thing, almost like an extremely sharp knife cutting through insanely tender meat. Jumble shoots me a victorious grin. I, for one, refuse to believe what I’m seeing as the truth.

  From the crown of the construct’s head begins a little split. It widens down the thing’s skull, travels down its neck, and continues to bisect the construct into perfect halves. All the while that exact same knife-like sound drones out from the wound.

  “I can’t believe it.” I murmur. “From the sound of it, you were actually right.”

  Jumble raises her chin proudly. “Sometimes my instincts are right, you know. But… shouldn’t the construct respond to this?”

  Right, I’d almost forgotten that part. I look down at my Class Card just in case I missed the message, but it’s as empty as before. Looking between it and the construct does absolutely nothing to summon a response, and with the thing just standing there motionless without any expression at all on its face, I’m almost questioning if this is actually an anomaly.

  Maybe… there’s something we’re missing. I take a step forward, much to Jumble’s surprise, and lean in to get a good look at the place where the construct was split. One half is perfectly smooth. The other has monochrome plastic organs which are also split perfectly down the middle. I wave for Jumble to come get a closer look, and before I lower my arm she inserts herself under it.

  “Only half of it worked?” She asks. “Weird. Should I send it again?”

  I consider her suggestion and can’t find any reason not to. “Go ahead right after we back up.”

  Jumble giggles and slips out. “Of course.”

  She backs up and so do I. Once we’re back at a safe distance, Jumble presses her thumb to her Class Card and sends the message again. The construct shudders, and the side that was perfectly smooth suddenly has organs in it. Jumble grins happily as a notification pops onto both of our Class Cards.

  Key Information Found: Fruit With Something Missing.

  This information cuts deep.

  Use it carefully.