Quota 0/391 - Only 3 days left
The Jester could not stop what was happening to it. It felt like a volcano on the edge of eruption, except this one would not leave thousands dead in its wake. The Jester would only claim a few lives, but its master name was one of them.
That, was the sort of outcome Victor had wanted to dodge. But inexperience led to mistakes, and sooner or later, mistakes had to be paid for.
As if their situation had not already gone spectacularly wrong, Death had now sent one of its most loyal agents to finish the job.
But let us return, for a moment, to the Jesters.
The first stood tall and proud, its enormous gaping maw hanging over the second while thick strands of saliva dripped to the floor below.
Each drop struck the iron walkway with a sickening crack, like bones snapping under pressure. The saliva had to be corrosive, because the metal bars beneath it lasted only seconds before starting to melt away.
The second Jester paid no attention to the puddles of drool splashing onto its body, nor to the thunderous growl rumbling out of the warped music box above it.
It cared about one thing and one thing only: finishing the winding of its music box. It could sense intruders, and its task was not complete.
This was not instinct.
It was following orders.
With a quick twist of the handle, it entered its second phase. It spared one last glance for the rude newbie in front of it, then dismissed it from its thoughts.
It would deal with that later, after the job was done.
Victor's Jester felt the disdain rolling off its rival, and something unfamiliar stirred inside it. A moment ago, it had discovered jealousy. Then hatred. But this... this was something else entirely. Something hotter. Wilder. It rattled every part of it.
Humiliation.
To be dismissed like that. Looked down on. Treated as beneath notice.
It could not bear it.
It would not bear it.
Deep inside the skeletal frame that held its jaws together, its red eyes darkened into a violent, glowing crimson.
Without warning, it lunged at the other Jester just as the creature was about to leave, clamping its jaws shut only once its prey was caught between its teeth.
It had gone for the neck, hoping to keep it from escaping, and the gamble had paid off.
The other Jester had not expected such a sudden, underhanded attack. It struggled immediately, not because it was in real danger, but because the whole thing was deeply, offensively undignified.
They were supposed to be noble creatures. Grand. Charismatic. Imposing, goddammit.
This idiot was destroying the image of the entire species.
No credibility meant no prestige. No prestige meant no work.
At this rate, the GDP of the whole race was going to collapse.
It turned to face its attacker, its eyes glowing with a deep, calm red, smooth and still as a lake at night.
Of course it was irritated. But it could still sense that the intruders had not yet reached the exit.
There was still time to teach the newcomer where it belonged.
Meanwhile, back to Victor.
Olivia had climbed onto the rail and was preparing to jump. With Victor still slung across her shoulders, balancing that close to the drop was far from pleasant.
The alternative was no better. It had two massive arms for legs and a gaping mouth waiting to swallow them whole.
Still, Olivia refused to take that option.
As soon as the Thumper finished climbing the steps to the upper walkway, Olivia leapt from the rail.
A drop of barely a meter should not have been a problem for her. But with Victor on her back, the impact hit harder than she had anticipated.
She could not roll to soften the landing, and the shock sent her stumbling forward. She only managed to catch herself by slamming one hand against the ground.
The Coil-Head was only a few steps from the doorway. Olivia lifted her head and pushed herself forward again.
I regret to inform you that your creature has been defeated in an honorable duel. When you have the time, host, you should consider training it!
The first sentence made Victor's eyes widen.
The second barely even registered. His brain was too numb to keep up.
'Defeated?'
He had not thought that was even possible.
His mind had taken such a brutal beating over the last few minutes that every thought should have shut down by now. And yet something inside him still kept pushing, still refused to lie still. Maybe Olivia had missed something. Maybe there was still a way out. Maybe he could offer one last idea, one last warning, one last chance.
A way to be useful.
A way to save them all.
But the instinct that had driven him past his limits finally went quiet, swallowed by a crushing wave of pain and exhaustion.
And in that silence, Victor understood.
There was only one thing left for him to do.
"Leave me behind."
Olivia had already made it through the doorway and was about to brush past the Coil-Head to dive back into the maze.
"Put me down," he said, his voice weak but steady.
She hesitated.
Just for a moment, but it was enough. Enough for the Thumper to finish descending the stairs.
At this point, hesitation could not make things worse. The volcano had already erupted. There was no escaping the island now, not if Olivia and the others kept wasting time on dead weight.
"Put me down, or we all die."
A few seconds more, and there would be nothing left to save.
"Go. And don't turn back. Run like if the devil himself is chasing after you."
With that, Victor forced himself down from her back and collapsed against the cold wall of the complex, his eyes locking onto the Coil-Head's.
Olivia gave him one last look.
Then she clenched her fists and ran.
She turned right at the first intersection and vanished from sight.
That, at least, was a relief.
Because another sound was approaching from the left, one Victor knew all too well, and hated just as much.
It was so thunderous that even the Thumper began to slow down, despite how close it was to its prey.
The creature might have spent minutes smashing its head into walls just to corner them, but now it abandoned the prize.
Even it feared what was coming.
Even it wanted no part in getting caught in the flow of burning lava.
And then Victor saw it.
Under the cold, dim neon lights, a giant mouth cast a shadow large enough to cover his whole body. Red eyes burned from inside empty sockets, bright and pupil-less.
A nightmare.
And yet, unlike when the Thumper had approached, Victor felt a flicker of relief.
He would not buy them much time, but perhaps, it would still be enough.
With the Coil-Head in front of him, the Thumper backing away to his right, and the Jester slowly closing in from the same side, he had at least taken some of the pressure off the others.
'No miracle deal for me, dear system? I've still got plenty of money left in my account.'
The voice in his head remained silent.
Victor let out a quiet laugh.
He did not want to die, but his feelings were changing jack shit.
He wanted to see his father again.
He also wanted to be rich.
All of that would have to be postponed to a later date.
Except there would not be another time.
Victor almost wished the Jester would hurry up and end things before his thoughts turned any darker.
It came toward him at an unhurried pace, its gaze dragging over him from head to toe, as if searching for something. Then it stopped only inches from his face, and he could feel death's breath wash over him, sweeping away his fear, his doubts, his questions.
Was it... curious?
'I said sweep them away, not bring them closer!'
Death tightened its grip.
Dying was a strange feeling.
Not pleasant, exactly. Not something anyone would go looking for. It felt more like the soft warmth of a Russian summer.
Which was odd.
It was not summer in Russia.
Why was he thinking about Russia?
Why was he thinking at all?
Why think?
Victor opened his eyes.
He was not back in the gardens of his consciousness, or whatever that place had really been. This time, he was suspended in nothingness.
At least it felt more like floating than falling.
'Did I make it to heaven?'
For a place with such a legendary reputation, it was a little sparse. Hardly the crown jewel of real estate.
And there was no one around to greet him, either.
Well. Once the obvious had been ruled out, as some great man had once said, whatever remained, however absurd, had to be the truth.
'I've been reincarnated as some creature with no senses!'
So Buddha had not abandoned him after all. His good deeds had paid off.
Though giving him life as some sensory-deprived organism felt suspiciously close to abuse of power.
'Then again, there probably aren't that many creatures like that. Maybe a bacterium or something. I don't know.'
It would suck, sure, but at least he would still be alive.
Granted, the life expectancy of a bacterium could not be that great.
While running through that deeply important internal debate, Victor noticed something that should have stood out immediately.
His body did not lace or hurt anymore.
His arms, his ribs, his back... all of it was fine.
No ache. No soreness. No trace of everything he had gone through.
Was it even still the same day?
'How am I supposed to answer a question like that?' he muttered.
Then, deciding experimentation was the only sensible path forward, he tried a few things.
'Can you hear me, inner voice?'
Ready and operational, dear host!
Finally. Something that might actually have answers.
'Where am I? In Lyon?'
This time he had at least looked around before asking, so he was fairly confident the answer was no.
Still, the system's answer stumped him a little...
No idea, host!
'...'
Was this system ever useful?
After several minutes of doing absolutely nothing, Victor began to get bored.
And in a place like this, boredom was dangerous.
Moving seemed like the obvious cure. Not because he had thought it through, but because doing nothing any longer felt unbearable.
So he started walking.
Or tried to.
The problem became obvious almost at once: in an endless void, how were you even supposed to tell if you were moving?
Everything around him remained empty. The silence pressed harder and harder against his thoughts.
He vaguely remembered hearing on the news one morning that too much silence could drive a person insane.
Victor was no scientist, so he had no clue whether that was true.
But getting killed by a Jester, reincarnating, and then losing his mind because of silence would look truly pathetic on a résumé.
His walk turned into a jog. The jog into a run.
He no longer had any destination in mind. He just wanted to find "something".
A chair would have been great, but it could have been absolutely everything.
A cart.
A car.
Anything really would be fine.
Instead, he found something far larger.
And far more important.
There, drifting in the void, floated a somber looking facility.
The same kind of complex where an injured creature might be lying on the floor, waiting for its master to come back.
'Do Company employees dust their items with hallucinogens or something?'
And so, a lone figure suspended in the void quietly cursed the name of a perfectly innocent evil corporation.