Chapter 38: We’re Getting Sky-Jacked

Germaine stared at him for a long moment, her expression hovering somewhere between "I can't believe this is my life" and "I wonder if I can sell this armor for parts if he dies."

"Alright," she sighed, standing up and sheathing her sword with a sharp click. "So how do we actually proceed? What's the 'Master Plan' for our glorious bait-and-switch?"

She paused, a look of sudden, horrifying realization crossing her face. She looked at Ethan, then looked at the dense, oppressive foliage of the forest.

"Wait," she said slowly. "You don't mean... you're not planning to just walk into the middle of a dense forest and start screaming about the Orc's lack of basic hygiene or their hideous facial structures, are you?"

Ethan paused, leaning back on his elbows with a look of pure innocence. "I mean... why not? It’s a proven method! I’ve already established a rapport with the local population. They love a good critique of their nasal cavities. It's called 'Aggressive Networking,' Germaine. Get with the times!"

"You son of a—!" Germaine roared, her hand instinctively twitching toward her sword. "Are you actually insane?! Do you have any idea what happens when you attract a swarm of Orc's in a forest like this? We'll be surrounded in seconds! There are probably a dozen different species of monsters lurking in these trees just waiting for a loud, shiny idiot to wander by so they can see what he tastes like!"

Ethan waved a hand dismissively, acting as if he had a master plan that was far too complex for mere mortals to grasp.

"Ah, but that's where my 'Human Pinball' experience comes into play," Ethan explained, gesturing vaguely toward the direction he had been launched earlier. "When I was flying through the air—you know, during my brief tenure as an Orc-powered projectile—I caught a glimpse of something. A cave. A dungeon entrance. A giant, gaping hole in the ground that basically screams 'Quest Reward Inside!'"

Germaine blinked. "You're telling me your primary source of intelligence was being punched into a forest?"

"Exactly!" Ethan exclaimed, standing up with a flourish. "Between the moments of 'oh god' and 'my ribs are breaking,' I spotted a cave. A proper, old-school, damp-and-gloomy dungeon opening. It’s nestled just past the ridge. And from the amount of guttural grunting and the general smell of unwashed feet wafting from the direction, I can confidently say there's a massive gathering of monsters in there."

Germaine sighed, though a small, predatory smile began to tug at the corner of her lips. A cave meant a concentrated area of targets. It meant efficiency. It meant credits.

"So," she said, glancing back at him. "Your plan is to walk up to a cave full of monsters and start roasting their skincare routines until they all come out to kill you?"

"Precisely," Ethan beamed. "It's called 'Psychological Warfare.' Or, as I like to call it: The Art of Getting Punched in the Face for Profit."

...

For the next few minutes, the two of them wandered through the woods. To any outside observer, it would have looked like a scenic nature hike—if the scenic nature included mutated flora that looked like it wanted to eat your boots and the distant, guttural screams of şeyler that definitely didn't belong in a botanical garden. They chatted with the casual ease of two people discussing the weather while walking toward a literal meat-grinder.

"So," Germaine started, stepping over a suspiciously pulsing root. "You're saying the smoke... I mean, the Gloom... that’s been choking the sky since the Gates first opened? That was only happening in Korea? No other countries had to deal with that perpetual smog?"

"Yep," Ethan replied, his voice sounding muffled and disinterested. "The whole world got the monsters, but only we got the depressing, gray, 'Welcome to the End Times' filter. Total rip-off. But hey, the good news is it's been gone for a few days now. Finally, I can see the sun, which only makes me realize how much I hate the sun."

Germaine blinked, pausing in her tracks. "Wow... I didn't even notice it was gone."

Ethan stopped dead. He slowly turned his helmet toward her, the visor staring blankly into her soul. "Are you kidding me? How do you not notice that the entire sky—which, I might remind you, covers the whole country—suddenly stopped looking like a burnt piece of toast?"

Germaine rolled her eyes, waving a hand dismissively as she kept walking. "No, you idiot. I noticed the Gloom was there. I just didn't notice it disappearing."

"Wow. You are really not paying attention to anything, are you?" he asked, his voice sounding almost pitying. "Most people would be like, 'Oh my god, the sky is finally clear, maybe the world isn't ending today!' and you're just over here like, 'Huh, I wonder why it's so bright out.'"

Germaine scoffed, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. She gave a dismissive wave of her hand, her expression one of utter boredom.

"Please. I have actual problems to deal with," she retorted, her voice sharp. "I care about things that actually matter—like Orc hordes and the fact that my gear is constantly getting ruined. I don't spend my free time staring at a puff of farts that stayed in the sky permanently. Who cares if the 'cosmic flatulence' finally cleared out? It doesn't change the fact that there are things in these woods that want to eat my face."

Ethan let out a sharp, sadistic chuckle. "A 'puff of farts.' I love it. I'm going to start calling the apocalypse 'The Great National Flatulence.' It really adds a layer of prestige to our misery."

A low, resonant growl echoed through the trees, cutting through the sound of their bickering like a rusty saw.

Germaine froze, her eyes darting to the shadows. "Do you hear that?"

Ethan, who had been using a metallic finger to lazily pry at a seam in his helmet, paused. "Hear what? I can only hear the soothing symphony of silen—"

RAAAAAWWWRRRR!

A blur of matted grey fur and glinting fangs erupted from the undergrowth. It was a wolf, but one warped by the dungeon's energy—larger than a bear, with yellow eyes and saliva that sizzled where it dripped onto the leaves. It moved with terrifying speed, its target clear: the shiny, noisy thing in the middle of the path.

Before Ethan could finish his sentence, the beast was on him. A massive paw, tipped with claws like blackened daggers, slammed into his chest plate with a brutal SCREEEECH of metal on keratin. The force didn't pierce the armor, but it lifted him off his feet and sent him skidding backward, digging twin furrows in the moss.

"Ow," he remarked flatly, mid-skid.

Before the beast could land, Germaine was already moving. Her sword flashed in a silver arc as she met the wolf in mid-air, the blade striking its descending foreleg.

SHINK!

The hit landed, but it wasn't clean. The skin was tough, almost like leather and steel. Instead of a deep cut, her sword only managed to carve a shallow, painful scratch along its paw. The wolf yelped, its trajectory thrown off. It landed on the forest floor with a heavy thud, whirling around to face them, a deep, guttural growl rumbling in its throat.

But it wasn't done. Its growl wasn't pain; it was a call.

From the bushes, three more wolves—six, a dozen—emerged simultaneously. They moved with unnerving synchronicity, forming a loose, tightening circle around them. These weren't mindless beasts. They were tactical hunters.

Ethan groaned, getting to his feet. He looked at the fresh claw marks on his chest plate and patted the metal as if comforting it. "Ow. Rude." He glanced at the growing pack, his tone shifting to one of observation. "I'm guessing these guys are the front desk security for the cave. A C-Rank 'welcome committee.'"

Beside him, Germaine's system window snapped open.

[Species: Fulminar Wolf]

[Rank: C]

[Analysis: Highly agile predators. Hunt in coordinated packs. Low individual defense, high collective tactical intelligence. Avoid being surrounded.]

Ethan's own system chose that moment to chime in. But it wasn't providing helpful analysis. His window flickered to life beside his head, the text jagged and glitching.

[Targets Detected: Pointy-Eared Flea-Bags]

[Analysis: Ugly. Smell bad. Probably have worms. You're also ugly and smell bad. Why are you like this?]

[Recommendation: Cry.]

"What the actual fuck?!" Ethan hissed, staring at the offending text. "Is this a bug?! Why is my system roasting me and the monsters?!"

As if in response, his system window glitched violently, then bombarded him with a rapid-fire sequence of translucent, glowing middle fingers that popped up left, right, and center, each one more elaborate than the last, some even with little sparkles.

The alpha wolf, the one Germaine had wounded, let out a commanding bark. In unison, the entire pack lowered their bodies, muscles coiling like springs, ready to lunge from all directions at once. This was it. The classic pincer maneuver. There was no clear path to dodge.

Just as the wolves were about to become a furry, toothy blender aimed at their faces, a small, black sphere the size of a golf ball dropped from the canopy above. It landed with a soft plink right in the center of the semicircle of wolves.

Then it exploded.

Not with fire, but with a deafening POOF of thick, acrid, purple-grey smoke that billowed outward in an instant, swallowing the wolves in a choking cloud and blinding both Ethan and Germaine.

Before either of them could cough or curse, two things happened at once. A metallic clamp snapped shut around Germaine's waist. Another one, cold and vice-like, clamped onto Ethan's armored torso.

Ropes attached to those clamps went taut with a sickening jerk.

The force was incredible. It yanked them off their feet and, more importantly, yanked them toward each other. They were pulled together in a tangled, spinning instant of confusion—Ethan's helmet clanking against Germaine's shoulder, her sword arm pinned between them—before the grapples retracted with a whirring sound, pulling them up and away from the ground, through the billowing smoke, and into the dark, waiting canopy above.

---

Thank you so much for reading this chapter! Your support and time mean the world to me, and I’m so grateful to have you along for Ethan and Germaine's chaotic journey.

A Short Prayer for You:

May God bless you with peace, joy, and strength today. May He protect you from life's unexpected turns, clear your path, and fill your heart with comfort and hope wherever you go. Amen.

See you in the next chapter!