All attention was instantly hogged by that sweet, haunting giggle. My chest felt hot, and a smile crept onto my lips.

  ‘You lying little shit—you said you wouldn’t be present.’

  Her dark, rotting hair emerged from the ground, snaring the corpses of the unfortunate couple like black, putrid vines slithering across broken bodies. Their bodies twitched to life: foggy eyes, no breathing, silent moans.

  “Ah!”

  It stirred my guts and triggered my fight-or-flight response. Yet I held strong; I couldn’t nope out of the ritual I had started.

  “JESUS CHRIST WHAT THE FUCK!”

  Nelson jumped back, putting some distance between himself and the scene, just in case.

  “Silence! Do not soil this sacred ritual.”

  Nelson half-closed his eyes, rubbed his temples, breathed in, then exhaled—tired.

  “You know what… I’ll fuck off until you’re done. I’m not into cultist shit.”

  He dove into the couple’s tent. Too much shit had happened, and he refused to deal with this.

  The silent moans morphed into horrified screams and sobbing as a faint glow shimmered around them.

  ‘How the hell are they making noise without airflow?’

  I was more intrigued by the violation of physics and biology than by the paranormal bullshit.

  The glow took shape, overlapping the mangled bodies, reconstructing how they had looked before Nelson’s explosive introduction.

  ‘Oh, ain’t she cute? Still not enough to elope, but still—’

  “Robertooooooo!”

  The girl wailed; my clenchingness increased by 13%.

  “You got me killed, Robertooooo! I should’ve never run awayyyyy!”

  The girl raged through the pain, unloading all of it onto her former lover’s poor decision-making.

  “Lisa p-please! I-I love you… I wanted to m-marry you.”

  “Shutupshutupshutup! If I knew I’d end like this, I would’ve kept performing night duties for your daaaaaad!”

  Roberto took two seconds to process what she had just said.

  I couldn’t avoid chuckling at the mini-telenovela.

  “NOOOOO! YOU SAID YOU WERE PURE!”

  Roberto’s soul-rip screams weren’t as intense as that heart-shattering wail.

  Soon, the rotten hair began to sink, pulling only the souls and leaving the bodies behind. Their terrified shrieks were so loud my ears began to ring.

  “May Helena grant you the grace of being less stupid in your next life!”

  I finished my pseudo-prayer and left before the ritual was complete, letting the screeches play on behind me.

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  “Ritual is over!” I yelled, so Nelson could come out, as I sat on a tree stump in front of the tent.

  “Celestial pussy is that good, huh? Turned a church hater into a religious nutjob in a single fuck.”

  Nelson emerged from the tent, chewing on some dried fruit.

  “Lucky shit.” He was happy his friend had managed to bone a goddess—and jealous he wasn’t the first.

  “Well, if I were to bone one, she’d need full curves, a big bouncy rack! Not a stick like—”

  He kept babbling until a chill warned him to shut up.

  “I’m not going to blaspheme against that sassy, violent gremlin.”

  “So what now, Chad Thundercock?” I asked casually, as we ignored the screams like we used to ignore midday gang skirmishes.

  “Figure out how to open the damn system,” he said, still chewing on the dried fruit.

  “I’ve been trying—voice commands, hand gestures—but nothing.”

  He waved his hands like he was swiping at an invisible screen.

  “Now that you mention it…”

  “Ask Grimmy.”

  “Aside from her giggles when the ritual began, I’ve heard nothing more—nor have I felt her presence within me.”

  I patted my chest, bitter at the absence of the Gremlin Goddess.

  “Well shit. Then there’s no other choice—find the closest town, join the adventurers’ guild, and get some receptionist pussy!”

  He said it dead serious, drawing random doodles in the dirt with a stick.

  “Do you even know where to go?”

  “Not at all! But I can try guessing—there’s an 80% chance we get it right.”

  Nelson pounded his chest as proof of confidence.

  “Nelson, my friend. The last time you tried to guide us on a hike…”

  I sighed, just remembering that shitfest.

  “I got bitten by a non-poisonous snake, and you ended up being the one fainting!”

  “Good thing Jonathan was there to carry me! HAHAHA!”

  “Jonathan was in such a hurry to get back to civilization he screamed he smelled copper. The piece of shit left me behind.”

  “Speaking of my idiotic little brother…”

  Nelson sounded anxious—yet just a tiny bit hopeful.

  “Do you think he’s around here? He was always talking about isekai.”

  “Well, his death was pitiful enough to earn him a second try. Seventy percent chance he’s a slave to a gay noble, fifteen percent he’s a top-tier adventurer, ten percent he’s a respectable human being, and five percent he’s not a fedora-wearing white-knight virgin.”

  “Hey, respect my brother,” Nelson said, holding back laughter.

  We kept talking about the past with the same casualness as soldiers in a trench under artillery fire. Soon enough, the sky turned orange.

  “Ah shit, the sun’s going down already.”

  I pointed at the sky. Nelson turned to confirm it.

  “What!?”

  Nelson furrowed his brows.

  “What? Scared of spending the night in the woods, city boy?” I smirked.

  “I thought we could reach a village within the same day, damnit.”

  “Hey, it’s not that bad. I often sleep on my uncle’s finca—”

  “Frank, I can’t shit in a hole.”

  “You fuckin’ what?”

  With an urgency I hadn’t seen since he got rid of his funny fluor during a surprise police search, he dumped the entire contents of his dimensional bag in front of me.

  “Are you serious?!”

  I knew he was planning something. I’d seen desecrated bags before, back when we were on the road and far from civilization. I shielded Helena’s bag from his line of sight.

  “I’ll use this!”

  He held Luminaria’s bag high in the air and renamed it…

  “The shitbag!”

  “Are you seriously going to use a rare-as-fuck item for shit logistics?”

  “Think about it, Frank! No more digging—just grab the bag and drop your pants!”

  “Come on! It’s not that ba—”

  “I would even lend it to you.”

  He smiled like a true merchant.

  “Deal.”

  My friend won me over with his unparalleled negotiation skills.

  “Also—dibs on the tent.”

  “Eh, not the first time I’ll be sleeping under the stars,” I replied, unworried.

  I stood up and slowly spun around, assessing everything I could see, smell, and hear.

  Fruit trees with fist-sized red fruits. Well-kept grass? That ain’t right. A crystal-clear sky. Chirping birds hiding among the treetops. Rustling leaves played their soothing melody.

  The air was pure, slightly cold. I breathed in and held it for a while.

  ‘You were right—the trees always play the same song, granny… I really miss y—’

  “Time to use my magic shitbag.”

  Nelson strolled past me, ruining my daydream.

  “Happy shitting. Remember to wipe with the leaves that have small white hairs.”

  “Fuck you, Frank. Never again.”

  He cursed at me as he hummed and disappeared among the trees.

  I drifted back into memories of my granny. From digging holes for metabolic needs to starting fires, she’d lived a long, hard life, and every lesson she taught showed it.

  I always barked at her for relying on matches or lighters, so the silly crone never taught me how to rub sticks together or strike sparks with flint.

  “My bones are too old for that,” she’d say, letting out a small chuckle.

  “Well, I’ll one-up that sweet old hag—if I start a fire with some sticks.”

  I slapped my cheek

  to pull myself out of those warm memories. I couldn’t wallow in them—not until I was truly safe.