"What do I do? What do I do?!"
My mind raced as panic started setting in again.
I glanced at the time.
"…Holy shit! How is it already 1:56 AM?!"
"Open, please! Opeeeeee-wn!" I shouted, my voice cracking noticeably in the silent air.
Think, think, brain. It's your job. Don't betray me now.
Wait, I needed to complete the circuit again, right? I tried placing a finger from each hand on the disconnected engravings, hoping my body would act as the bridge.
WHY THE FCK IS THIS RTARDED, B*TCH-A*S CIRCUIT NOT WORKING?!"
What was the difference between my pee and my hands? Did it just need liquid? "Okay, you ancient urinal, you'll get what you want—wait..."
Did I just touch the same spot I peed on earlier?
Nope. Forget it, brain. Forget it NOW!
pulled out my Excalibur once again and prepared myself.
"…Round two."
[2 MINUTES LATER]
"…Why the f*ck am I not p*ssing?!"
Shit.
My bladder was empty.
I needed water.
"I need to drink"
I pulled a three-liter bottle from my backpack. Carl had told me not to carry so much extra weight, claiming he'd handle the supplies, but look at me now—my "over-preparedness" was actually coming in handy. I chugged the entire thing in one go.
[5 MINUTES LATER]
"…WHY AM I STILL NOT P*SSING?!"
How long does water even take to reach the bladder?!
My Excalibur had been exposed to the cold for so long it was evolving backward from sword to dagger. At this rate it'd become a kitchen knife.
The freezing temperature of the white zone combined with exhaustion was destroying me.
I swear I'd done more work today than in all my high school years combined.
My body was still moving purely because of adrenaline.
The moment that adrenaline disappeared…
…I am finished.
Everything already hurt:
my legs,
back,
arms,
stomach
Yet somehow I was still functioning.
Barely.
"…Wait."
Instead of drinking the water…
…I could've just poured it directly onto the engraving….
I stared at the empty bottle in my hand. "Fck, am I a rtard?"
As I spiraled into desperation, a new idea clicked. It was a "Disgusting Mode" even worse than the last one. (Don't worry, I wasn't going to sh*t on it.)
What if I puke on it? It was my last resort. I shoved my left hand's two fingers into my mouth and, with a single violent gag reflex, vomited right onto the disconnected circuit. It was shameful. I promise I didn't enjoy it.
The door didn't just open; it felt like it teleported out of existence. Wiping my mouth, I rushed back inside.
This time I knew exactly where the artifact room was.
Actually…
Why do I keep calling it "the artifact"?
Doesn't it have a proper name?
…Whatever.
As I moved through the tomb, I noticed the
machines still couldn't perceive me.
To them
I didn't exist.
And then I realized something else.
None of them had eyes.
No cameras either.
They operated using something completely different.
Spiritual detection maybe?
Carl said spiritual power exists in everything, so maybe these machines detect that instead of relying on normal vision.
Something invisible to the eye might still possess spiritual energy.
But then why can't they detect my backpack?
It isn't from Earth either.
Shouldn't it have spiritual energy too?
…Shit. No time for theories.
After nearly fifteen minutes, I finally reached the room.
"…Wait."
The artifact was supposed to be outside.
I left it there.
Did they put it back?
Never mind.
There are still plenty inside.
I stepped in
And immediately froze.
The room was now guarded by those half-naked gun machines again.
"…Not a problem."
I already knew how to deal with them.
They were slow.
Painfully slow.
I'd use the same strategy:
break the glass,
dodge the gunfire,
push the artifact off the platform,
roll-kick it out of the room,
then out of the tomb.
Easy.
These slow-chines were way too easy to outsmart.
So that's exactly what I did.
Glass shattered.
The artifact dropped.
I kicked it forward and kept it rolling.
The machines followed but, strangely enough, never picked it up.
Honestly, if they just lifted the thing and put it back, they'd be way more effective.
Thank God the artifact was cylindrical.
That made rolling it much easier.
Everything was going smoothly.
Too smoothly.
The exit was already in sight.
And yet…
The victory felt empty.
Tasteless.
I wanted revenge.
REVENGE for making me come back here a second time.
So I stopped moving.
The machines stopped too, their weapons aimed directly at the artifact.
Oddly enough, unlike with the pistol, they weren't even firing at it.
Interesting.
I slowly approached one of the machines.
Then I remembered.
I drank three liters of water for this.
I wasted perfectly good water because of these metal bastards.
Earlier, when I was walking toward the tomb, my throat felt drier than the Sahara Desert, yet I only drank around 200 ml to save supplies for an actual emergency.
…And these aluminium foils made me waste all of it.
My revenge deepened.
Slowly…
I pulled out my Excalibur.
And aimed directly at the machine's exposed circuit.
"…Eat this."
With full force, I p*ssed on it.
BOOM.
The machine immediately stopped moving.
Dead.
"…HAHAHAHA!"
The others started aiming toward the sound and opened fire.
But the room was filled with pillars containing artifacts, forcing them to shoot carefully.
That gave me enough time.
I moved to another machine.
Then another.
That night, I killed six machines.
and badly injured a seventh, the seventh survived only because I ran out of ammo.
…Yes.
Satisfied, I kick-rolled the artifact through the exit.
"MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!" I screamed as I stepped outside. The door slammed shut for the final time.
I immediately put my shoes back on.
It was 2:42 AM now.
At least the second trip was faster.
The adrenaline was finally fading.
And my body paid the price.
My legs hurt.
My back hurt.
My arms hurt.
My stomach hurt.
Even my dic—
"…Wait. Why does THAT hurt?"
Oh right.
The aiming.
I had to twist it around like a joystick.
"…Makes sense."
"I'll rest for ten minutes before heading back to Carl, Joey, and Jack."
…Wait.
Did I say their names correctly?
Whatever.
I collapsed onto the freezing ground, letting the cold cool down my burning body.
"…Damn."
"This is comfortable."
"I could sleep here…"
.
.
.
No.
I needed to move.
After resting for nearly ten minutes, I forced myself back onto my feet and started walking toward the others.
"F*CK MY BODY HURTS EVERYWHERE."